Category Archive: Uncategorized

1. The Pulse of Progress: Igniting a Community Revolution

   February 10, 2026 4:17 am Leave a Comment

   In 2025 the WASH program ignited a movement that transcended mere bricks and mortar to awaken the human potential within seven primary schools. At Abaka, Ogul, Tochi, Awach Central, Awach Primary, Panykworo, and Kulu Opal we proved that health is a living heartbeat powered by people rather than pipes. By standing shoulder to shoulder with school leaders during their darkest personal trials and busiest travels we forged a bond of resilience. This year of technical maintenance and relentless monitoring transformed cold infrastructure into vibrant sanctuaries of hygiene. At Kulu Opal girls have reclaimed their time because they no longer trek for water and at Abaka a community once defeated by a simple pest problem rose up to reclaim their dignity. These are not just repairs but the first sparks of a fire that will keep these facilities burning with life for years to come.

   

   Girls WASH Room in ABAKA Primary School Neglected and Closed, A Structure That Could Still Be Renovated and Used. 

   The power of health literacy has never been more evident than at Awach Primary, where students have become the primary defenders against disease. By taking ownership of their environment and clearing standing water, these young leaders have slashed daily malaria cases from forty down to fifteen. While this progress is monumental, our process revealed a critical “opportunity gap”: the need for a unified training doctrine. By developing a standardized training manual, we are ensuring that every health worker speaks with one voice, carrying a “ripple effect of wellness” from the classroom directly into the family home. We aren’t just teaching students; we are equipping an entire generation to be the architects of their own health.

   

   Water Tanks Have Completely Been Abandoned and Unattended To, This Has In Most Cases Provided a  Breeding Ground For Mosquitoes

   True dignity in education requires us to confront the barriers that keep girls out of the classroom. At Tochi Primary, under the guidance of Rev. Sister Lucy Grace Latim, we have seen a surge in confidence as girls learn to sew and mend their own reusable pads, directly reducing absenteeism. However, success has brought us to a new crossroads of demand. To ensure no girl is left behind, we must scale our capacity to reach 100 learners per session and, as Denis of Awach Central wisely noted, bring boys into the conversation. To end the stigma of menstruation, we must engage the very peers who often perpetuate it. This evolution from direct soap provision to school-led liquid soap production is the next frontier of our mission, turning “goodwill gestures” into sustainable, localized industries of hygiene.

   

   A Toilet Facility At Ogul Primary School Directly Connected To A Neglected Rubbish Place, This Leaves The Entire Environment Littered.

   As we look toward 2026, our sights are set on an ambitious target of monitoring 15 schools, using our current seven partners as a technical blueprint for the entire district. The roadmap is clear: we are formalizing School Management Committees (SMC) into governing bodies and empowering student-led Health Teams to lead the daily charge. The transition from a service-delivery model to a community-led sustainability model is no longer a dream, it is happening. We are integrating vocational skills like pad-making and establishing dedicated WASH reserve funds to ensure these gains are permanent. We have proven that when you bridge the gap between physical infrastructure and behavioral change, you create a resilient environment where every learner can thrive.

   

   AuntHill Developed and Covered the Pit Hole in The Toilet Facility At Ogul Primary School.

   We have watched the numbers fall and the confidence of our children rise but the horizon is still calling us forward. The gaps we found this year are not obstacles but invitations to reach higher and dream bigger. We have laid a foundation of stone and spirit and while the schools are ready to lead the ultimate test of our resolve is waiting in the shadows of the schools we have not yet reached. The blueprint is signed and the communities are mobilized for the 2026 expansion. We stand at the edge of a great unknown ready to answer a massive demand for dignity that echoes across the region. The question is no longer if we can change lives but whether we are fast enough to reach the thousands still waiting for their turn in the light.

2. Rising to the Challenge: A Year of Bold Action and Hope For Resilient Futures

   February 1, 2026 10:38 am Leave a Comment

   The year 2025 marked a definitive turning point for the Gulu Disabled Persons Union as we transitioned from traditional aid to a sophisticated model of high impact social engineering within Northern Uganda. Driven by the conviction that public health is the fundamental bedrock of regional recovery, our WASH program executed a rigorous strategy to dismantle the systemic barriers of disease and social exclusion. By integrating professional medical interventions with sustainable infrastructure, we successfully transformed educational institutions into frontlines of resilience where lifesaving knowledge meets tangible action. This period of intense activity was defined by an uncompromising commitment to excellence, ensuring that every resource was deployed with surgical precision to maximize community well-being and restore the inherent dignity of the most vulnerable populations.

   

   A Very Sorrow State Girls Toilet Facility In Torchi Primary School.

   Central to our mission was a radical confrontation with the silent epidemic of menstrual poverty which has historically forced countless adolescent girls into premature academic withdrawal. Through strategic partnerships with organizations such as the Her Worth Foundation, we successfully launched comprehensive menstrual health initiatives that replaced cultural stigma with technical self-sufficiency. By equipping young women with the skills to produce reusable sanitary products from local materials and constructing gender responsive facilities equipped with private changing rooms and incinerators, we effectively removed the biological tax on their education. These interventions have done more than improve hygiene; they have ignited a movement for gender equality that empowers the next generation of female leaders to pursue their academic ambitions without fear or shame.

   

   Menstrual Poverty Remains A Key Contributor to High Drop Out Among School Going Girls.

   Our approach to public health was equally aggressive in the fight against malaria, a leading cause of childhood morbidity that continues to devastate rural household economies. Recognizing that awareness alone is insufficient, we facilitated professional screenings and immediate treatment protocols within schools while simultaneously empowering learners to act as advocates for household prevention. The alarming positivity rates unearthed during our interventions served as a powerful catalyst for a new, family centered education model designed to bridge the lethal gap between clinical knowledge and home-based practice. By treating the school environment as a hub for broader community transformation, we have begun to establish a culture of vigilance that protects both the health of the student and the financial stability of the family unit.

   

   Maddie, Alex and Aaron Enjoyed Their Time Working With Us, We Had the Best Peace Fellows In 2025.

   Accountability and data integrity remained the cornerstones of our operational success throughout the year as we moved toward a data first methodology in project management. With the development of streamlined monitoring tools and the professional oversight of dedicated international fellows, we gained the ability to identify specific dignity gaps with unprecedented clarity. This analytical rigor allowed us to move beyond generic assistance, ensuring that infrastructure repairs and resource distributions were prioritized based on measurable need and long-term sustainability. By fostering a sense of local ownership among school administrators and establishing nonnegotiable standards for hygiene, we have successfully laid the groundwork for a self-sustaining ecosystem where health and education are mutually reinforcing.

   

   We Had Malaria Prevention and Treatment Training For All Our Seven Program Schools.

   As we conclude this transformative year, the Gulu Disabled Persons Union stands at the threshold of an even more ambitious horizon. The successes of 2025 have provided more than just proof of concept; they have established a robust blueprint for a revolutionary expansion that will redefine the boundaries of humanitarian impact in 2026. The groundwork has been meticulously laid, the partnerships are solidified, and a series of high stakes initiatives currently in development are poised to challenge the very status quo of regional development. While the milestones achieved thus far are significant, they are merely the prelude to a monumental strategic shift that will be unveiled in the coming months, promising to propel our mission toward a future of unshakeable equity and enduring health.

3. Ending the Silence: The Crisis of the Girl Child in Abaka!

   January 21, 2026 5:10 am Leave a Comment

   In the geographically isolated village of Abaka, the total absence of government services has entrenched a cycle of systemic neglect and deep-seated illiteracy. Within this marginalized context, formal education is frequently perceived as a redundant luxury, and the girl child is disproportionately affected by traditional norms that prioritize her role as a domestic laborer or a future bride. Consequently, childhood is prematurely truncated, as parents resigned to a lack of external infrastructure, view investment in a daughter’s schooling as a depletion of scarce household resources rather than a pathway to advancement.

   

   Happy to Stay in Class, A Girl Child in Abaka Keeps a Beautiful Smiles While Learning.

   This educational exclusion is exacerbated by menstrual poverty, a critical health barrier that remains entirely unaddressed in Abaka. Lacking access to basic sanitary products, girls are compelled to utilize improvised, unhygienic materials such as old rags, newspaper, or dried leaves, which pose significant risks of urogenital infections. This physiological reality, coupled with a pervasive culture of silence, results in recurring school absenteeism. In a community where a girl’s right to education is already precarious, these monthly interruptions often serve as the final catalyst for permanent dropout and the transition into forced early marriage and damaging health risks.

   To mitigate this, the implementation of menstrual health training and the production of reusable sanitary pads is a vital, evidence-based intervention. By equipping girls with the technical skill to sew pads from locally sourced, absorbent cotton, we establish a model of sustainable self-reliance. A single kit of high-quality reusable pads can remain functional for over eight months, effectively neutralizing the financial barriers that currently dictate the trajectory of a girl’s life. This approach provides a practical, eco-friendly solution to a biological challenge that the community is currently ill-equipped to manage.

   

   Peer to Peer Learning is a Habit in Healthy Educational Environment.

   Furthermore, this intervention serves as a strategic tool for socio-economic empowerment. When a girl gains the knowledge to manage her health with dignity, it fundamentally challenges the prevailing narrative that she is merely a commodity or a domestic servant. This shift in perspective is essential for a society that has resigned its fate to illiteracy; it demonstrates the tangible link between health, dignity, and potential. Empowering the girl child to remain in school is a proven method for delaying marriage and improving long-term community outcomes, transforming her from a victim of circumstance into a more productive resilient individua in society.

   

   An Empty School Environment on a Normal School Day is  a Common Scene in Abaka Primary School.

   The situation in Abaka demands an urgent, coordinated response to restore the fundamental rights of the girl child. Despite the community’s current resignation and the lack of external support, targeted intervention can provide these girls with the tools to reclaim their childhood, achieve academic success and confidence. It will require your support to bring these essential services to this isolated village, ensuring that a vulnerable population can overcome systemic barriers and emerge triumphant. Your partnership is key to securing a future where a natural biological process no longer stands as an obstacle to human potential and progress.

4. Agent Orange Revisited – Final Thoughts

   January 20, 2026 6:59 pm Leave a Comment

   

   The author with Ngyuen Van Tuan in 2015. Tuan was 20 at the time. He died in 2018 from hemofilia, associated with dioxin poisoning.

    

   What lies ahead for caregivers like Mai Thi Loi and their families? What does this review of people to people engagement tell us about Agent Orange? Why should Americans even care about a war that finished fifty years ago?

   The answer to the first question seems simple enough. Agent Orange reminds us that for those directly affected, wars never end with the fighting. The fifteen families profiled in these blogs, together with their children and grandchildren not yet born, will suffer from Agent Orange for years to come. 

   But if they are the victims, these families are also on the front line of advocacy.

   Consider the following (slightly abridged) reflections of Angie Zheng, our 2025 Peace Fellow after meeting Nguyen Huu Phuc, a veteran, and his wife Nguyen Thi Thanh last summer. The couple produced eight children. Two died and three were poisoned by dioxin. They include Nguyen Thi Nam, now 36, paralyzed by cerebral palsy:

   “Before we leave, I ask if we might take a photo of the family together. They agree. Mrs. Phuc leans over Nam and begins adjusting her blouse, smoothing the wrinkles with her hand. She murmurs something, low and rhythmic, as if just for her daughter. Her daughter laughs, her grin stretching across her face.

   “It is such an ordinary gesture, but I find myself holding my breath as I watch. This is a kind of love that does not need an audience (or) a camera. It is the love that sustains this house every single day. As we leave, I think about everything they have told me: the history of the war, the cow they once kept, the roof they hope to repair, the chickens roaming the yard. I think about Mrs. Phuc’s hands smoothing her daughter’s shirt, the softness of that gesture.

   “It is tempting to turn this into a story about resilience and about the triumph of the human spirit. But that feels too tidy. Their lives are ongoing. There will still be chickens to feed, a daughter to care for, a roof to fix before the next flood. (But) for a few hours at least, I was allowed to sit with them, get to know them, and hear their stories. This, I (will) hold close.”

   This simple connection between a family managing severe disability in Vietnam and a compassionate American student, is people to people engagement at its most powerful. It also shows why families are such good advocates. The reason is simple: they are motivated and they are in for the long haul.

   Consider Nepal, another Asia country that is struggling to recover for a war that ended many years ago. If Agent Orange parents in Vietnam are relentless in keeping their children alive, children of the disappeared in Nepal are equally relentless in demanding to know how their parents died. Few movements have done more to shape international human rights than families of the disappeared.

   Vietnam is of course different from Nepal and I am not suggesting that Agent Orange families are advocates in the conventional sense. Some, like Le Thanh Duc, are natural communicators. But most, like the Phucs, have no interest in preaching to others and are often isolated within their own communities. If asked, they would probably expect AEPD’s outreach workers to speak for them, just as AEPD expects our organization to speak for them outside Vietnam.

   Telling their stories will remain our main contribution to advocacy, and the last sixteen years have shown that no one does this better than students. As a result, we hope to double down this year and pair two or three American students with affected families in Vietnam. Speakers at the Stimson seminar expressed the hope that foundations will be looking to fill the void left by USAID. If this is the case we hope they will consider our students.

   *

   What role lies ahead for advocates in Vietnam and the US?

   Here in the US, is it realistic to try and rebuild the partnership between civil society and government that put Agent Orange on the map back in the 1980s? This seems unlikely. As the Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney said at the recent Davos meeting, nostalgia does not make a strategy.

   Could the US government once again be a reliable partner? The Trump Administration seems to have little interest in humanitarian aid but it is keenly interested in trade and in containing China. This may account for the agreement last September to continue supporting victims of Agent Orange that I referred to in an earlier blog.

   The agreement was drawn up between the Vietnamese government and the US Embassy in Hanoi. If implementation of the new program is also left to the Embassy that is where American NGOs will have to make their case. They should explain that USAID’s model of institutional care holds out the best hope for the stricken children of veterans. An assessment of USAID‘s program in the eight provinces would be a good place to start.

   It may also be that advocates for Vietnam still have allies in the US Congress, even if they are currently keeping their heads down. It is surely encouraging that other advocacy campaigns are building bipartisan support for issues a lot less close to home than Agent Orange, such as the Burmese Muslims, or Rohingyas.

   When all is said and done, however, any long-term solution will have to come from Vietnam rather than the US.

   I cannot imagine that this suggestion will be controversial. Vietnamese are united when it comes to Agent Orange, and the tragedy is central to modern Vietnam’s identity as well as a symbol of Vietnam’s resistance in the war. As long as veterans are alive and respected it will remain that way, and they will have a powerful advocate in The Vietnam Association for Victims of Agent Orange/dioxin (VAVA).

   The question is how much financial assistance the government will provide.  As Tim Reiser, Senator Leahy’s former aide, pointed out during the Stimson seminar, Vietnam is approaching the status of a wealthier middle-income country. It should be better able than most governments to cover the cost of expanded health care as US aid dwindles.

   But like any government, Vietnam must weigh spending priorities and an ageing population that will put an increasing drain on the economy. The fifteen families profiled in these blogs barely have enough money as it is, and the government does not provide compensation to second and third generation Agent Orange victims.

   *

   Taking a step back, can we expect Americans to remain interested in a war that ended fifty years ago? The short answer is – absolutely. And Agent Orange offers a compelling and relevant case study.

   Students of peace will be amazed that such a cruel weapon could help to build a bridge and promote reconciliation between two former bitter enemies, as discussed in my third blog. Agent Orange shows that peace-building is rich in possibilities and gets there in the end. That has to be heartening.

   Students of war will find something very different – a war strategy gone haywire. It is, for example, astounding that the US military unleashed Agent Orange on its own soldiers and Vietnamese without thinking through the possible consequences.  In today’s world, the US government (and maybe even Dow Chemical, which manufactured the herbicide) would have been found guilty of war crimes and crimes against humanity if they had had so much as an inkling of what the herbicide would do to civilians and non-combatants.

   The fact that the US accepted responsibility for the damage to its own soldiers from Agent Orange but not Vietnamese is hypocrisy of the first order.

   Agent Orange is also a poster child for a particularly vicious type of weapon that is indiscriminate and remains active until it is detonated, which can be years after the fighting ends. These are attributes that Agent Orange shares with anti-personnel landmines, UXO, and cluster bombs. The main difference, for our purposes, is that landmines can be removed and destroyed. Once dioxin poisoning kicks in, it cannot be reversed.

   There is much to learn from these deadly remnants of war. At the very least they give us a reason to pause before rushing into the next generation of weapons. Yet the arms manufacturers, dealers and policy-makers never err on the side of caution.

   Witness the war in Ukraine. I understand that Ukraine is fighting for its very existence, but the use of drones by both sides seems about to produce a new generation of drones guided by artificial intelligence. This is a terrifying prospect.

   *

   Finally, there remains the nagging question that I raised at the start of this series. Why should we continue to care about a war that ended half a century ago when there are so many other crises in the world today and so many other demands on our time and generosity?

   This is, of course, a personal question and everyone will have their own answer. We all have our causes and one of mine is Agent Orange in Vietnam. Personal contact will do that for you and I have never forgotten meeting caregivers like Mai Thi Loi and victims like Tuan, the young craftsman who passed away in 2018 and is shown in the photo above.

   But it could just as easily be Afghan refugees or the homeless center close to where I live in Washington. Of course, there are degrees of awfulness and a homeless shelter cannot compete with Agent Orange or the massacre of innocents in Gaza. But compassion is not measured by statistics. You either feel it or you don’t.

   Compassion is not fashionable or respected in today’s world. Refugees and migrants are treated with contempt and cruelty, and advocates for social justice are derided as “deranged” and “woke.” We are told by those in power that “might is right.” This is worse than compassion fatigue. It is compassion denial.

   It is not easy to stand up to such cynicism, but we must try. Our task at The Advocacy Project is to make the case that Agent Orange families in Vietnam still deserve our compassion for resisting one of the most devilish weapons ever devised by man.

   After following their journey over the past decade this is not difficult.

   *

   MORE READING

   Peace Fellow blogs: Our thanks to past Peace Fellows who have volunteered at AEPD since 2008 and laid the foundation for our work with Agent Orange caregivers: Chi Vu (2008); Gretchen Murphy (2009); Simon Klantschi (2010); Ryan McGovern (2011); Jesse Cottrell (2012); Kelly Howell (2013); Seth McIntyre (2014); Armando Gallardo; (2015); Ai Hoang (2016); Jacob Cohn (2017); Marcela de Campos (2018); Mia Coward (2019); Angie Zheng (2025).

   Fellowships: Apply for a peace fellowship in Vietnam: AP is offering fellowships to students to volunteer at AEPD in 2016 and work with affected families.

   Photos: View our photos of Agent Orange from Vietnam.

   All there is to know about the AEPD – AP partnership: including profiles and resources 

   Reading: Most material referenced in this article and accompanying blogs is linked in the text. For more detailed information we rec0mmend the following:

   From Enemies to Partners – Vietnam, the US and Agent Orange by Le Ke Son and Charles R. Bailey (G Anton Publishing, 2017). The definitive account of how two former bitter enemies found common cause in cleaning up Agent Orange.

   The Long Reckoning by George Black (Alfred Knopf, 2025). The inspiring story of how US veterans helped to launch a movement to heal the wounds of war.

   The Agent Orange in Vietnam Program (The Aspen Institute). A rich online resource that includes maps of areas sprayed and other background material.

   The War Legacies Project. An international network dedicated to exposing and ending the long-term health and environmental impacts of the use of Agent Orange and unexploded ordnance (UXOs), together with Agent Orange Record.

5. Agent Orange Revisited – Student Volunteers from the US

   6:58 pm Leave a Comment

   

   Ai Hoang, our 2016 Peace Fellow, comforts Le Thanh Duc during a visit to meet Mr Duc’s daughters. Ai and her family have donated four cows to Agent Orange caregivers.

    

   If AEPD contributes to this program through its outreach workers, our contribution has come through the thirteen student volunteers, or Peace Fellows, who have spent their summers at AEPD since 2008.

   We have made few demands on these outstanding young professionals beyond asking that they do what graduate students do best: be smart, friendly, curious, tech-savvy and focused. Working through the AEPD outreach workers, they visit past beneficiaries and bring their stories up to date through blogs and photos. Most Fellows have also helped us to raise money for new families on GlobalGiving.

   All of our Fellows have brought their own expectations and skills to the task. Our first Peace Fellow Chi Vu (2008) was part of the wave of refugees that fled Vietnam after 1975 and spent two years in refugee camps before reaching the US. Ai Hoang, another Vietnamese American whose photo is seen above, left Saigon at the age of nine and was studying at the Columbia University Mailman School of Health when she signed up to return to Vietnam for the first time in 2016. Both Fellows wanted to give back to the country that had, in effect, rejected them.

   Ryan McGovern, our 2011 Fellow, joined the US Army after high school and was deployed to Iraq in 2003, where he developed a special loathing for UXO and landmines. Seth McIntyre (2014) served in the Peace Corps in Guyana and embraced social justice after studying the impact of uranium on a Navajo reservation before enrolling at Brandeis University. Angie Zheng, who volunteered last summer, studies conflict resolution at Georgetown.

   Agent Orange is, of course, a compelling human drama and this has produced strong writing and photographs. Jesse Cottrell’s short documentary on the Phan Siblings even drew a compliment from the actor Alec Baldwin. Armando Gallardo (2015) used his skills as a photographer to capture some remarkably intimate moments of Mai Thio Loi and the other families. The blogs of Seth McIntyre (2014), Jacob Cohn (2017) and Angie Zheng (2025) have been especially strong.

   *

   All of these students were born long after the end of the war, but they all knew that their government had been been responsible for the horror of Agent Orange. This has made for some nervous moments through the years.

   When Ryan McGovern, the US Army veteran, met in 2011 with a group of Vietnamese veterans who had lost limbs in the war he had expected hostility. Instead he was peppered with friendly questions about his own military service: “There’s something about the camaraderie and brotherhood experienced in the military,” he wrote later. “I immediately felt a connection with them the same way I would with a US veteran, which made our conversations very personal.”

   Ryan honored the meeting by profiling three of the Vietnamese vets who had all shown ingenuity in rebuilding their lives. They included Mr Hoa, who had tattooed the legend “April 2, 1975” on an arm, in memory of the day that an unexploded bomb claimed his right leg. This struck a chord with Ryan who noted that tattoos and the US Army go together like “peanut butter and jelly.” Ryan was also impressed to learn that Mr Hoa had built a thriving business from planting trees and trained over 200 other veterans with a disability through AEPD.

   As a student of global affairs, Seth McIntyre (2014) felt the weight of history more keenly than most and took to describing the war as the “American War” in his blogs. In one blog, Seth described meeting three generations of Agent Orange survivors. Pham Van Giang, the veteran and patriarch, was relaxed, but his son Dung – who had been seriously affected by Agent Orange – was anything but:

   “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!” 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.”

   *

   Several Fellows stayed involved after completing their fellowships. After returning home to California, Ai Hoang made a pitch to her father, who had left Vietnam in the early 1990s and was so impressed by his daughter’s experience that he visited AEPD in Quang Binh – his first trip to the former North – and paid for two cows.

   The recent Stimson webinar suggested that Vietnamese Americans could be part of a new American strategy on Agent Orange, built around people to people peacebuilding. Ai and her father show how this might happen.

   They are not the only ones. Of the 148 individuals who have donated to our Agent Orange appeals since 2016, 23 were Vietnamese Americans. All of our donations have been measured decisions, taken for personal reasons (a major difference with conventional aid.) The cow project was launched in 214 with financial support from Scott Allen, an AP Board member who visited Saigon during the war while serving in the US Merchant Navy.

   *

   Looking back, it is safe to say that all of us who have worked on this program on the US side came away richer for the experience.

   In trying to put this into words, we have several times drawn on the final blog of Jacob Cohn who was studying at the Fletcher School when he volunteered in 2017. Jacob met seven families, including Mai Thi Loi and raised $1,500 to buy a cow for Dong Thi An, as seen in the photo below. Mrs An has two children. One was going blind when Jacob met the family in 2017. The other suffered from Down Syndrome. Jacob wrote:

   “I am someone who’s periodically struggled with anxiety and depression throughout my adult life (but I have been) have been blown away by the resilience of (these) people who remain devoted to beating the odds and fighting for a better future for their children…..Having the chance to share (their) 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.”

   Like several other former Fellows who found their calling abroad, Jacob signed up as a writer for USAID only to lose his dream job when the agency was disbanded last March.

    

   

   Jacob Cohn, our 2017 Peace Fellow, raised $1,500 for Duong Thi An and her two children. Jacob was so inspired by his experience in Vietnam that he signed up for USAID, only to lose his dream job when USAID was disbanded in March 2025.

    

   Read about Duong Thi Anh and her children 

   Read Jacob’s blogs

   Next: Final thoughts

6. Agent Orange Revisited – Outreach Workers in Vietnam

   6:57 pm Leave a Comment

    

   

   Man of authority: Le Thanh Duc gets advice from Nguyen Van Thuan, one of several outreach workers at the AEPD who have helped the 15 Agent Orange caregivers use their donations wisely. Mr Thuan lost his left arm and most of his right hand during a mining explosion in Cambodia in 1978. The outreach workers are much respected in the villages where they were viewed as war heroes.

    

   In managing their grants, the Agent Orange families have been helped by several veterans who were themselves severely injured in the Indochinese wars and are at the heart of AEPD’s people to people model. Over the years these remarkable individuals have developed deep emotional ties to the families and become fast friends with our student volunteers.

   Last summer Truong Minh Hoc accompanied our Peace Fellow Angie Zheng to the home of Ngo Gia Hue and his wife Tran Thi Thao, whose three daughters suffer from extreme dwarfism. It felt like a family reunion, as Angie wrote in a blog

   “As soon as we arrive, Huệ greets Minh with both hands. They clasp each other tightly, leaning in with warmth. Huệ’s eldest daughter hurries forward and throws her arms around him. She holds his hand and doesn’t let go, smiling wide, while Minh laughs in his boisterous, easy way.”

   Like the family he was visiting, Mr Hoc himself was exposed to Agent Orange while fighting in Quang Tri province during the war. He also knows the agony of having passed dioxin to a child. His oldest son is prone to wandering the streets alone.

   Ten years earlier our 2016 Fellow Ai Hoang had profiled Mr Hoc in a blog and summed him up in one word – “kindness.” To this I would add tough. Mr Hoc was shot in the leg while serving in Laos in 1984 and went through six surgeries to save his leg. He was in constant pain while riding his bike out to villages.

   Mr Hoc’s co-workers have been equally impressive. Hoang Van Luu’s parents were killed by American bombers in 1967 when he was three. He himself lost his right forearm and three fingers on his left hand after picking up an unexploded bomb four years later. Luong Thanh Hoai was blinded in one eye during the 1988 battle of the Truong Sa Sea between Chinese and Vietnamese forces.

   Nguyen Van Thuan, another AEPD outreach worker, joined the army as an engineer in May 1978. Mr Thuan was on a mining mission in Cambodia three months later when a landmine exploded, destroying his entire left hand and three fingers on his right hand.

   These grim experiences have given the AEPD outreach workers a unique insight into the challenges facing the Agent Orange families. I remember watching Mr Thuan advise Le Thanh Duc about his fish sauce while Mr Duc nodded respectfully, as if meeting with a superior officer (photo above). Mr Hoc was compassionate but firm in dealing with Mai Thi Loi’s breakdowns. 

   I remember visiting the home of Duong Thi Anh, a war widow. Her son Huong had lost his sight in one eye and was going slowly bind in the other and he took great comfort from the visits of Mr Hoai, the AEPD outreach worker who had also lost an eye in the war with China. As fate would have it, the two first met while being treated in hospital (photo below). 

   Finally, and critically, the outreach workers have great authority in the villages, where they are viewed as war heroes. This has allowed them to act as a bridge between the local community and Agent Orange families, who generally keep to themselves. This ensures that isolation does not tip over into ostracism. This is peer support at its best.

   The biggest risk is that this deeply personal approach will create a dependency and leave a hole when it ends. Nguyen Van Thuan passed away two years ago and Le Minh Hoc’s war wounds have forced him to retire. Mr Luu is still going strong and he was recently joined by two new outreach workers, Le Anh Nguyen and Tran Gnoc Minh. Both have undergone serious illness and accident, but they were not wounded in war or exposed to Agent Orange. It will no doubt take time for them to build rapport with the families.

   Thanh Nguyen Hong, the director of AEPD is unbothered by this. Among its many attributes, her organization knows how to recruit and retain highly qualified staff. It is another example of their strong people to people model.

    

   

   Le Quoc Huong, left, was poisoned by dioxin after his father was exposed to Agent Orange during the war. He lost his sight in one eye and has struggled to retain vision in the other. Mr Huong is seen with Luong Thanh Hoai, an AEPD Outreach worker who himself lost an eye during the 1988 Truong Sa sea battle between Vietnamese and Chinese forces. Ironically, the two men first met in hospital when they were both recovering, Mr Hoai’s experience has helped the younger man manage the growing challenge of blindness.

    

   Watch this 2011 video of Mr Luu, an AEPD outreach worker since 2003 

   Next – Student Volunteers from the US

    

7. Agent Orange Revisited – Cows to the Rescue

   6:55 pm Leave a Comment

   

   Dương Thị Sen Sen, a single mother and second-generation survivor of Agent Orange, has a repaired cleft lip, a speech and hearing impairment, mild intellectual disability, physical weakness, and chronic pain. She received her breeding buffalo in 2024.

    

   Like many disability advocates, The Association for the Empowerment of People with Disability is committed to the proposition that disability is not disabling.

   Our volunteers have seen plenty of evidence of this while working at AEPD. In 2011 Ryan McGovern introduced us to Mr Can, who lost a hand during the war and became celebrated as a producer of bonzai trees in Quant Binh. Mr Can accepted the physical limitations imposed by his injuries and used the discipline that helped him to survive to channel his talents in new directions.

   Agent Orange is more merciless than other causes of disability because it strips away human agency. This is not to say there are no heroes. As we noted earlier in this series Simon Klantschi, our 2010 Fellow, struck up a friendship with Nguyen Thi My Hue, who suffered from dwarfism but opened a grocery store with funding from AEPD and dreamed of being an opera singer. Jesse Cottrell (2012) produced a wonderful video about three siblings from the Phan family, who were born without use of their lower limbs but built thriving businesses with financial support from AEPD.

   These examples are inspiring but sadly few and far between, because when dioxin poisoning sets in it is irreversible. As a result, and with the empowerment of victims no longer an option, AEPD has decided to support their caregivers.

   There is an economic rationale to this as well, because families that are struggling with a severe disability are among the poorest in almost every society. The Vietnamese government gives a monthly allowance for each family member affected by Agent Orange which currently averages out at around $70 a month. Coupled with military pensions and other forms of social security, this can just about cover the basic cost of living.

   But only just. As he told our 2025 Peace Fellow, Le Thanh Duc is a war invalid himself with a top 81% disability rating and receives ten million Vietnamese Dong per month (about $395). His three daughters each receive around 5 million Dong (about $200) per month. But diapers alone cost Le Thanh Duc about a million Dong (about $40). Even with his income from fish sauce and chickens, Le Thanh Duc has been forced to borrow 300 million VND (about $11,500) from the bank and is still paying back the loan with interest.

   Even climate is adding to the challenge. Vietnam is acutely vulnerable to storms and climate change, and several families have reported serious damage to their homes. For some families, repairing the roof is almost as important as buying medicine.

   In choosing to spend our grants, all but one family has opted for a breeding cow or buffalo. As Mai Thi Loi told us in 2016, the animals can be rented out to neighbors and produce milk. Best of all, they produce calves which currently fetch up to $600 – a huge sum in the villages. When Karen Delaney from AP visited Mrs Loi in 2018, she was renting out her buffalo for around 2.5 million Dong a month ($110). This covered the cost of medication for her sons.

   The main problem with cows and buffaloes is care and maintenance, and gathering fodder becomes increasingly burdensome as caregivers grow older. Dương Thị Sen, seen in the photo above, relies heavily on her 13 year-old daughter for all-round support. But even when pulling together the two are unable to take their buffalo to higher ground during storms and need help from Mrs Sen’s brother.

   As the first generation caregivers age, their prospects for making a sustained living without help from neighbors or family grow dimmer. Their best hope will lie in increased government support. This will be the subject of a later blog.

   Read more about Duong Thi Sen and her daughter

   Next – Outreach Workers in Vietnam

8. Agent Orange Revisited – Ethical Dilemmas

   6:55 pm Leave a Comment

   

   Phan That, left, was exposed to Agent Orange during the war and has passed dioxin poisoning to his son, Pham Van Linh and daughter Pham Thi Linh. Adding to Mr. That’s troubles, the family house is built on low-lying land and is regularly flooded by storms. AP and AEPD raised $2,000 for this family.

    

   The depth, persistence and virulence of dioxin-related sickness warn against any suggestion that the crisis is somehow lessening or “getting better” as veterans pass away.

   In fact, statistics suggest the exact reverse. The Quang Binh government puts the number of current victims at around 6,000 – higher than it was in 2013. Dioxin poisoning is even being passed to great grandchildren of veterans, who are classified as P3 by the government. This is hardly surprising because dioxin has a half-life of up to twenty years in the human body, according to the World Health Organization. It is not clear at what point dioxin ceases to become a health threat, but Vietnam will no doubt continue to serve as a grotesque laboratory.

   From an ethical perspective, it seems particularly wrong that children who were not even alive when the fighting ended have suffered more than their parents who fought in the war and were aware that there were risks. This raises interesting questions for international law. Do the children qualify as noncombatants under international law, even though the war itself has long since ended? Can legal protection be handed down to future generations?

   Agent Orange presents other ethical dilemmas. When Senator Patrick Leahy and his aide Tim Reiser sought US government funding for Agent Orange from the US Congress, they took full advantage of Agent Orange’s fearsome reputation and the remorse felt by many Americans. The money was earmarked for use in eight provinces that had been heavily sprayed. The link to Agent Orange was explicit and useful.

   But the officials at USAID who were implementing the policy were determined not to discriminate in favor of dioxin victims and against other forms of disability. As a result, the funds were used to provide support and care for all disabilities in the provinces, regardless of cause (known as “cause blind”).

   USAID took a very different approach in 2004 when it launched a program on obstetric fistula, which is only one of several life-threatening lower-tract infections (including uterine prolapse) that plague women in Africa and Asia. Our own organization has had no problem advocating exclusively for Agent Orange (and uterine prolapse for that matter), because we believe that effective advocacy is almost always driven by personal experience and will thus gravitate towards single issues.

   But USAID’s position made sense, as well as being principled, because it invested in health services and institutional support that would produce system-wide benefits – a rising tide that would lift all boats. This provides the sort of institutional support that Mai Thi Loi’s son Kien will need after his mother passes. The main problem, from AEPD’s perspective, was that USAID support was limited to sprayed provinces and did not extend to Quang Binh province.

   Photos have also raised ethical questions, as is usually the case in humanitarian disasters,

   The image of Mai Thi Loi’s son Kien chained to the wall, naked and barking, is certainly powerful but also potentially demeaning to Kien himself. We discussed this at length with Mai Thi Loi and our guide from the AEPD, Mr Hoc, who had himself been exposed to Agent Orange during the war. They concluded that photos of Kien should be published in the interests of exposing the horror of dioxin, but taken at a distance.

   Even this proved too much for our Peace Fellow Angie, who visited Mrs Loi’s family last summer and was so upset that she had to put her camera aside.

   One thing is certain – our photos of Kien and the other families do not allow the viewer to look away.

   Read the story of Phan That’s family

   Next – Cows to the Rescue

    

9. Agent Orange Revisited – Children and Parents

   6:53 pm Leave a Comment

    

   

   Pham Thi Do and her son Tuan before Tuan died in 2018 from hemofila associated with dioxin poisoning. Tuan was a talented craftsman and his model of Hue University is displayed at the AP office in Washington.

    

   The most devilish feature of Agent Orange is that it has fallen more heavily on the children of veterans than their parents.

   Nguyen Van Xoan, who we met in an earlier blog, suffered from headaches and nausea after ingesting the herbicide. But this was hardly life-threatening and when we met forty years later, Mr Xoan was a fit man.

   His family, in contrast, had been destroyed. The first two children born to Mr Xoan and his wife Pham Thi Do died from “brain damage.” Their third child died after a miscarriage. The next two children were healthy, but the couple’s youngest sons, Trung and Tuan, came down with creeping paralysis in their early teens. Their eighth child Luyen was born in 1992 with cerebral palsy and had been bed-ridden since childhood.

   When I first visited Mr Xoan’s family in 2015 Tuan, 20, was in a wheelchair and making models out of discarded popsicle sticks. He had felt the onset of paralysis in his legs around the age of fifteen and dropped out of school after being bullied. Restless and talented, he turned to his popsicle sticks and was grateful when I purchased his model of the revered University of Hue.

   We were introduced to Tuan’s older sister, Luyen, during the same visit. It was a stormy day and Luyen lay in bed, pressing her nails into her hands and grinding her teeth. Her mother Pham Thi Do said that this was a sure sign that the weather was about to change and that she would give Luyen a folded carton to hold to prevent her from cutting into her hands. Luyen’s brother Trung – another Agent Orange victim – was in hospital when we visited receiving a blood transfusion.

   Tuan’s grin was infectious and I remember thinking that if anyone could beat the odds he could. But it was not to be and Tuan died two years later. I still have his model of Hue University on my desk in Washington.

   Not every affected family member has died, and some with lesser symptoms have even shown signs of improvement. When our Peace Fellow Mia Coward visited Tuan’s family in 2018, shortly after Tuan died, his older brother Trung was no longer receiving blood transfusions and hoped to apply to a vocational training college.

   But most children of exposed veterans have been less fortunate and watching them waste away has produced a deep sense of guilt in the parents. Like Mai Thi Loi, many are also terrified at what awaits their children, as they themselves grow old and infirm.

   This is the overriding concern of all ageing caregivers. No doubt there is more institutional and medical care available today in Quang Binh province than there was when we first met these families. There is even a social center in Quang Binh that caters to severe Agent Orange cases, and Mai Thi Loi’s son Kien would no doubt qualify.

   But right now Mai Thi Loi cannot bear to think of that. Nor can she count on the support and understanding of her neighbors, who insisted that she chain up Kien when he tried to burn down a neighbor’s house and even put up the money to help her build the new room.

    

   

   Pham Thi Do with her cow, donated through AP in Washington and managed with help from AEPD in Vietnam.

    

   Read the story of Pham Thi Do’s and her family

   Next – Ethical Dilemmas

    

    

    

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10. Agent Orange Revisited – Fuzzy Numbers

    6:52 pm Leave a Comment

    

    Le Van Dung and his wife Dang Thi Miet, both veterans, have produced thirteen children and lost twelve to Agent Orange. Their thirteenth child, Li Thi Ngoc Thuy, has severe symptoms and their grand daughter is suffering from partial blindness.

     

    Geography has played an important role in the way we remember the Vietnam war. Who has not heard of Dan Nang, Bien Hoa, the Ho Chi Minh trail, Hue, Khe Sanh, My Lai, Saigon and Hanoi?

    Quang Binh province is less well known, even though it was here that the North Vietnamese began channeling supplies to the south through the Ho Chi Minh trail. The province lies just north of the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) that separated South Vietnam from the North and was, as a result, largely spared from spraying. Operation Ranch Hand deposited 3,900 gallons on Quang Binh, compared to the 1.8 million gallons dropped around the Bian Hoa aid base in Dong Nai province. (Figures from the Aspen Institute).

    And yet, in spite of generally being largely spared from spraying, Quang Binh has been heavily affected by Agent Orange. The reason is that thousands of soldiers from the province went south to fight and were exposed to Agent Orange. They then returned home when the fighting stopped and passed dioxin poisoning to their children at conception.

    According to one 2013 report from the People’s Committee of Quang Binh, 5,266 individuals in Quang Binh were receiving compensation for illness associated with Agent Orange that year. Of these, 1,411 were sick soldiers and 2,324 were family members who were classified as “indirect” victims.

    The lack of correlation between spraying and sickness helps to explain why it has been difficult to estimate the overall number of Vietnamese affected. Early on, the Vietnamese Red Cross came up with an estimate of around 3 million, which has struck many as a wild exaggeration but was not dismissed out of hand by a 2012 report from the US Congressional Research Service. The CRS team was also told that 365,000 Vietnamese veterans and family members had been diagnosed with a related medical condition.

    Another reason for the fuzzy numbers is that the exact process of transmission remains a medical mystery. The best guess is that dioxin poisoning scrambled the DNA of the fetus at conception. Common sense would certainly suggest that Agent Orange was behind the twelve consecutive miscarriages suffered by Dang Thi Miet (photo above), given that she was exposed to spraying while on active duty during the war.

    But it has been impossible to prove this medically. One reason is that most of the dioxin carriers have also produced healthy children. How and why some siblings succumb while others are spared is not known, but this fiendish lottery does make it impossible to show a necessary cause and effect between Agent Orange and sickness – a fact that has been exploited by chemical companies that have been unsuccessfully sued in the US.

    Also, when a death occurs, the cause is most likely to be recorded as one of many opportunistic ailments that preys on the weakened DNA or immune system of victims. In one example known to us personally, Nguyen Van Xoan’s son Tuan suffered from paralysis in his legs for years. But it was hemofilia that killed him in 2018.

    Faced by the medical uncertainty, but confronted by the very real fury of American veterans, the US government gave up the effort to pinpoint a medical diagnosis. Instead, it agreed that all US service members who served in Vietnam between 1967 and 1971 should consider themselves as having been exposed to Agent Orange and offered to pay for the treatment of any one of 20 serious medical conditions linked to Agent Orange that are still listed on the website of the Veterans Administration. Vietnam followed the same approach and used almost the same list of ailments.

    In other words, both governments agreed that Agent Orange was guilty beyond a reasonable doubt – even if the medical evidence was inconclusive. One thing is not in dispute, however: dioxin poisoning has worked its way into every region of Vietnam, every level of society, and every living generation.

    Read the story of Le Thanh Dung, Dang Thi Miet and their 12 missing children

    Next – children and parents

     

     

     

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11. Agent Orange Revisited – Poisoned History

    6:48 pm Leave a Comment

    

    Le Thanh Duc was exposed to Agent Orange while serving at the former US base at Da Nang. His three daughters are almost completely paralyzed, Mr Duc is seen here with his eldest daughter Le Thi Phuong.  His youngest daughter, Le Thi Lanh, learned to text before she fell ill and still uses texting to communicate with her parents.

     

    The link between dioxin carried by the Agent Orange herbicide and sickness was conceded early on.

    The Vietnamese were first off the mark and organized the first-ever international meeting on herbicides and war in 1983. In 1991 the US Congress passed the Agent Orange Act which promised compensation and medical care to any US Army veterans who had been exposed.

    For affected families in Vietnam, it took years for the full horror of Agent Orange to sink in. Mai Thi Loi never found out how her husband, who died of cancer in 1989, had been exposed during the war. But Nguyen Van Xoan, another veteran, is in no doubt. Mr Xoan was deployed in the province of Quang Tri in the south when an American plane sprayed the forest where he was sheltering. He covered his face and later drank rainwater which was “fresh and did not seem dangerous.” But his first two children died early and unexpectedly.

    Le Van Dung and his wife Dang Thi Miet, both veterans, were also exposed to Agent Orange while serving in the south. Ms Miet suffered twelve miscarriages before producing a child who lived, but barely. Mrs Miet also has no doubt that Agent Orange was to blame.

    Le Thanh Duc, seen in the photo above, joined the army in 1975 after the war ended and took part in the clean-up at Da Nang airport. He remembers being asked to move a leaking canister and in the days that followed he experienced a range of symptoms, including dizziness and headaches. But the symptoms faded and he continued to work at Da Nang – a notorious dioxin “hotspot” – for over a year.

    Several years were to pass before Mr Duc began to understand the horror he had unleashed on his family. Three of his children, all girls, came down with a serious pathology around ten and have been almost completely paralyzed ever since. They are now over forty and still in diapers.

    During a visit to the Duc family in 2013 Kelly Howell, our 2013 volunteer, noted how the three girls responded to their parents with smiles. Le Thi Lanh, the youngest, was even able to send simple text messages from a mobile phone. During his meetings with Kelly, Mr Duc would move the three girls to a new position when they cried out.

    When I first met Mr Duc, in 2015, he was recovering from another unspeakable tragedy. His youngest son had died in a motor-cycle accident the previous year. The boy, 18, had been spared by Agent Orange and his parents were so panicked about keeping him safe that they had asked his superiors to keep a special watch over him when he joined the army.

    His death seemed especially cruel and it sent Ho Thi Hong, his mother, into a spiral of depression from which she had not yet recovered when we visited a year later. But Mr Duc her husband was remarkably upbeat. He had just received a loan of 17 million Dong ($647) through AEPD to start a fish sauce business and proudly showed us the big stone jars in his yard, which stank of fish. Mr Duc was also basking in the aftermath of a television show that had turned him into a local hero.

    With his wife still incapacitated, Mr Duc was carrying the weight of this damaged family on his own. It was something of a tour de force and he remained optimistic even after his fish business collapsed the following year from a massive die-off of fish caused by contamination from the Taiwanese Formosa steel plant.

    At this point, AP launched an appeal for Mr Duc. He invested the money – $1,140 – in chickens. When our Peace Fellow Angie Zheng visited him last summer, he was still selling chickens and had returned to making fish sauce, although he spent most of his time feeding, bathing and changing his three daughters.

    Read Le Thanh Duc’s story

    Next – Fuzzy numbers

     

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12. Agent Orange Revisited – at a Crossroads

    6:47 pm Leave a Comment

    

    US forces sprayed 12.4 million gallons of Agent Orange over South Vietnam between 1961 and 1971

     

    What comes next for Mai Thi Loi and the many other families in Vietnam that are still affected by Agent Orange?

    The question has hung over Vietnam since March of last year when the Trump Administration closed USAID and ended a multi-million dollar program to assist war victims in Vietnam – almost fifty years to the week after the war ended on April 30, 1975.

    The demise of USAID brought an abrupt end to a remarkable experiment in peace-building that had transformed Agent Orange from a weapon of indiscriminate cruelty into an instrument of partnership between two bitter former enemies. This blog looks at the history, and the implications for people to people initiatives.

    *

    The tragedy of Agent Orange dates back to 1961 when US forces in Vietnam copied a tactic used by the British in Malaya and began using herbicides to deny forest cover and crops to Viet Cong guerrillas in the South.

    Between 1961 and 1971 Operation Ranch Hand, as it was known, deposited 19.5 million gallons of herbicide over 10,160 acres of the South Vietnam – roughly 10% of the country. Of this, 12.6 million gallons was Agent Orange – a highly toxic mixture of two dioxin-laden chemicals, so named because it was stored in canisters with orange stripes.

    The war may have ended fifty years ago, but Agent Orange has not lost its power to shock and surprise. On the one hand dioxin continues to take a terrible toll in Vietnam on families like Mai Thi Loi’s. On the other hand – and rather remarkably – Agent Orange has helped the US and Vietnam find common purpose and build a new relationship.

    The effort began to take shape in 1995 when diplomatic relations were restored between Vietnam and the US. As they began to look for ways to heal the wounds, the two governments found common cause in remnants of the war including missing service members (MIAs), unexploded ordnance (UXO), landmines, and victims of dioxin poisoning.

    MIAs came first. Families of missing American service members had begun demanding answers in the late 1970s and the call was taken up by The Vietnam Veterans of America (VVA) that was established in 1978 and became a powerful advocate for war victims in both countries. UXO and landmines came next when – at the urging of US Senator Patrick Leahy – the US Congress set up a War Victims Fund in 1989 to support injured Vietnamese.

    It was not until 2006 that Agent Orange – the most controversial legacy of the war – was addressed at the highest levels of government. During a visit to Vietnam, President George Bush and the Vietnamese president Nguyen Minh Triet signed an agreement to clean up heavily contaminated dioxin “hotspots,” starting with the former US aid base at Da Nang.

    *

    For students of peace-building, this was a remarkable development, even if the lethal nature of Agent Orange had been well understood for years.

    Advocates for US involvement reasoned that starting with the environment would pave the way to people, and eventually it did. In 2019, USAID began funding a program to assist families affected by disability, including Agent Orange, in eight provinces that had been heavily sprayed (Quang Tri, Thua Thien – Hue, Quang Nam, Binh Dinh, Kon Tum, Tay Ninh, Binh Phuoc and Dong Nai.) By the time the program ended last March, over 17,000 individuals had benefited.

    Speaking at the recent Stimson webinar, Susan Berresford, the former president of the Ford Foundation, described this long journey as a perfect example of a public-private partnership that played to the strengths of the different partners – individuals, NGOs, Foundations, and government.

    The Ford foundation itself played a major role by opening an office in Hanoi in 2006 and establishing a high-level dialogue on Agent Orange for experts from both countries a year later. The experts found willing allies in Senator Leahy and his chief aide Tim Reiser, who made sure that money was earmarked for USAID by Congress.

    By the time Ford handed over the Agent Orange portfolio to the Aspen Institute in 2011, the Foundation had committed $17 million and helped to leverage many millions more US government aid to support war victims in Vietnam and clean up dioxin pollution. Ms Berresford estimates that total US funding reached $540 million by 2025.

    Even the Nobel Peace Committee contributed, by awarding the 1997 peace prize to the International Campaign to Ban Landmines. The campaign was co-founded by Bobby Muller, who also launched the Vietnam Veterans of America.

    *

    In spite of the demise of the USAID program, there is plenty to suggest that the Trump administration understands the role played by Agent Orange in building a partnership between the US and Vietnam.

    US funding for cleaning up a second former US base Bien Hoa resumed almost immediately after USAID was closed in March 2025 when it became clear that millions of tons of polluted earth that had been partially removed could trigger an environmental disaster if left untreated.

    According to reports from Vietnam, the Trump administration has also included Agent Orange in a far-ranging strategic agreement between the two governments that was signed on October 31 that was signed by the US Ambassador in Hanoi. As part of the agreement, the US pledged $97 million to help Vietnam’s National Center for Toxic Chemicals and Environmental treatments (NACCET) work on Agent Orange through to 2030. 

    It is unclear how the money will be spent, and whether funding will be restored to the eight provinces in Vietnam that were the cornerstone of USAID’s former program. This presumably will be negotiated by the embassy and Vietnam. I will return to this in my final blog.

    In the meantime, a large number of highly effective former activists are wondering which way to turn. 

    Next – Poisoned History

     

     

     

13. Agent Orange Revisited – Meeting Mai Thi Loi

    6:44 pm Leave a Comment

    

    Mai Thi Loi and her son Kien in 2016

     

    When I first met Mai Thi Loi in 2015 at her home in the province of Quang Binh, Vietnam, her oldest son Kien, 31, was chained to a wall in an inner room, naked and moaning.

    As his mother explained between sobs, Kien had been prone to outbursts of violent rage for years. He had tried to burn down a neighbor’s house and ripped off his clothes when Mrs Loi tried to keep him covered. Kien’s younger brother Cuong was also prone to outbursts, although less violent. Her third son Hung sat smiling amiably through the discussion.

    Our interpreter, who was deeply upset by the meeting, told us that the nearest mental hospital was in the city of Hue. Even if Kien were admitted, Mrs. Loi would still have to visit him and provide food and care, which would require many days of travel. It would also mean surrendering Kien to others, perhaps forever. So Mai Thi Loi remained in limbo – torn between love for her damaged son and fear of his rage.

    My next meeting with Mrs Loi, a year later, was less wrenching. In the intervening months The Advocacy Project had raised $1,200 for her family and Mrs Loi had decided to purchase a breeding buffalo. I went to visit her with Ai Hoang, a Peace Fellow (student volunteer) and an outreach worker from AEPD, our Vietnamese partner.

    At one point we asked Mrs Loi if she would like to give her buffalo a name, triggering a lively discussion among neighbors who had gathered to watch. Eventually they came up with the name “Opportunity,” which seemed appropriate.

    Mai Thi Loi was a bit puzzled by it all but delighted to take ownership of Opportunity, who would prove to be worth her weight in gold. Her sons, however, were in worse shape than they had been the previous year. Kien was still chained and Mrs Loi had been forced to confine her second son earlier in the year. She later wept on Ai’s shoulder in her kitchen.

    Such is the life of a family forever damaged by Agent Orange, the chemical herbicide that was sprayed over Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia during the war.

    Mrs Loi’s husband was exposed to Agent Orange while serving in South Vietnam during the war and returned to Quang Binh in the North to pass dioxin poisoning to his wife and family. Their first two children were born without symptoms, but the next three – all sons – were badly affected. Their father died in 1989, leaving Mai Thi Loi to cope alone.

    In the years since that visit in 2016, AEPD and AP have raised funds for fourteen more Agent Orange caregivers in Quang Binh, including Mrs Loi. We have also followed their progress through students from the US (Peace Fellows) who have volunteered at AEPD for the summer.

    Our 2025 volunteer, Angie Zheng, visited Mrs Loi last summer and found that her second son Cuong was taking medication and was better. But Kien, now 40, was still chained up. Mao Thi Loi herself was approaching 70 and clearly exhausted. She sobbed on Angie’s shoulder as she had done ten years earlier with Angie’s predecessor Ai Hoang.

    What, she asked, would happen to her sons when she herself passed away?

     

    

    Mai Thi Loi and her youngest son Hung take possession of their breeding bullock Opportunity in 2016. Opportunity was the first animal to be purchased for an Agent Orange caregiver by AP and AEPD.

     

    Read Mai Thi Loi’s story here

    Next – Agent Orange at a Crossroads

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14. Agent Orange Revisited

    12:44 pm Leave a Comment

    

    AP was introduced to Agent Orange by Nguyen Thi My Hue in 2010. Mrs Hue’s father was exposed to the herbicide during the war and passed dioxin poisoning to his daughter. Mrs Hue opened a grocery store and dreamed of becoming an opera singer. She struck up a friendship with our Peace Fellow Simon Klantschi, who wrote about Mrs Hue’s spirit and optimism in an affectionate blog while volunteering as an AP Peace Fellow at AEPD. In the 14 years since, AP has partnered with AEPD to raise funds for 15 families damaged by Agent Orange.

     

    My next eleven blogs will look at the human cost of Agent Orange, the herbicide that was widely used by US forces during the Vietnam war.

    I propose to tell this tragic story through the lens of fifteen Vietnamese families that were poisoned by dioxin after being exposed to Agent Orange. All live in the province of Quang Binh, in what used to be North Vietnam. All have received support from The Advocacy Project (AP) in Washington and the Association for the Empowerment of Persons with Disability (AEPD) in Quang Binh.

    AP has made two contributions to this partnership. First, we have raised $16,134 for the families in Vietnam from 148 generous individuals who care deeply about Vietnam and its people. Second, we have deployed thirteen American students (“Peace Fellows”) since 2008 to volunteer at AEPD, get to know the families and update their stories through blogs and photos.

    In Vietnam, our Fellows have worked alongside four AEPD outreach workers who help the families turn their grants into a source of sustained income. All four were seriously injured in fighting and one was himself exposed to Agent Orange. Experiencing the horror of war has given them a deep understanding of the challenges that face the Agent Orange families. Such peer support is at the heart of AEPD’s work with disability.

    Aid experts would describe this partnership between our two small community-based organizations in Vietnam and the US as a “people to people” project. We would heartily concur. Our commitment to the Agent Orange issue, and our advocacy, is built entirely on personal relationships and mutual respect.

    *

    People to people projects could become increasingly important in the months ahead, following the decision by the Trump Administration last March to close USAID.

    This decision ended US government funding for war victims in eight Vietnamese provinces that were heavily sprayed by Agent Orange during the war. It came as a nasty shock to Americans who care deeply about Vietnam.

    A recent webinar hosted by The Stimson Center and War Legacies Project reviewed options for going forward.

    Several speakers favored a return to the activism of the 1980s when committed individuals joined forces with NGOs and foundations to prod the US government into action. But it seems unlikely that the current US administration would cooperate even though the US Embassy in Hanoi agreed in September to continue supporting Agent Orange victims as part of a larger strategic partnership between the US and Vietnam. I discuss this in my third blog.

    Nor are there any obvious champions in the US Congress like Senator Patrick Leahy, who played a decisive role through the Leahy War Victims Fund, and by earmarking money for USAID’s program in the eight provinces.

    People to people projects can certainly help, but personal relationships alone will not make up for the financial hole left by USAID. Foundations could contribute and act as a catalyst for action, as the Ford Foundation did back in the day. But foundations are also facing many other demands on their money.

    In short, there seems no obvious way forward, and no clear target for advocates.

    Given this, perhaps we need to go back to basics and ask this question: why would anyone care about the victims of a war that ended fifty years ago? I will attempt an answer in the next ten blogs.

    Next – Meeting Mai Thi Loi

15. Stitching the Stories of Afghan Refugees in Canada

    January 14, 2026 2:46 pm Leave a Comment

    

    The group gathered for a photo once our job was done. Clockwisefrom upper left: Wazhma, Taheera, Guljan, Fatima, Homaira, Farida, Frista, and Bobbi

     

    Seven years ago I made my first trip as embroidery trainer for The Advocacy Project, going to Nepal to work with women who had lost loved ones to the disappearances.  They told their stories through embroidery and, together, we crafted two quilts to be used to advocate for justice.  Since that first trip, I’ve also traveled to Africa three times to work with groups of marginalized women on similar projects.  The quilts we create help to raise awareness of the tragedies they’ve endured but also show their strength and determination.

    And so this year, in the week before Christmas, I took off once again.  This time, I flew to Toronto, Canada at the request of the Afghanistan Human Rights and Democracy Organization (AHRDO – www.AHRDO.org ) and the Advocacy Project (AP – www.advocacynet.org ) to spend a week with survivors of the Taliban’s war against women in Afghanistan.  AHRDO’s mission is to document truth, preserve memory, and pursue justice, goals which align well with AP’s vision.

    AHRDO enlisted the women and took care of organizing the training.  My job was to help the women tell their stories through embroidery which would then be incorporated into a quilt to be used for awareness and advocacy.  I had led similar trainings for AP with women in Nepal, Uganda and Kenya.  This would be AP’s 45^th stitching project since 2007.  https://www.advocacynet.org/quilts-by-topic/

     

    

    Guljan’s block is off to a nice start!

     

    As each woman entered the room that Monday morning, she greeted me with a smile and a warm handshake.  Farida was wearing a stylish suit and her makeup was flawless.  Her daughter, Homaira, appeared to be a typical western twenty-something.  Frishta bounded into the room, laughing already.  Others came more quietly but each walked in with openness and curiosity.

    As the days of training passed, I had the opportunity to talk with each of the nine women and hear how they had found themselves in Canada.  The stories were all different but all the same.  Fear, loss, confusion, and sadness.  In spite of outward appearances, all were in mourning.

    Niki asked if she could share a short film she wrote, directed and starred in.  It was called, The Silence of a Girl and presented one young woman’s choice after losing control of her own life as the Taliban closed girls’ schools and returned to strict suppression of women and girls.  Facing a hastily arranged marriage to a man she didn’t know and unable to accept a life without personal freedom, she took her life on her wedding day.

    In the room there were tears and nods as others silently acknowledged what they had just seen. They were ready now to share their own stories.  They talked and sketched and revised and consulted with one another.  Ideas were transferred to fabric and these stories of horror and loss began to take shape with needle and thread.

     

    

    Fatima dreams of education back in Afghanistan!

     

    * Farida had been a prominent television journalist, traveling to research her stories and presenting them with polish and confidence. She said, “I loved my job and now I am just zero.”

    * Homaira was in university, studying journalism with plans to follow in her mother’s footsteps. She said that path is no longer open to her.  Her block shows her blindfolded and silenced.

    * Frishta recalled the claustrophobia of having to put on the burka. “I couldn’t breathe! I would throw the awful thing into a corner and step on it.”

    * Guljan, a Ph.D. and professor in Afghanistan, chose to show her current life – wife, mother, cook, English student – while still dreaming of her former life in education. Her husband, also a university professor, now drives a truck to support the family.

    * Tahera’s block shows brave women in prison who take the extraordinary step of continuing their protest for women’s rights and demanding freedom.

    * The desire for resuming education, which was suddenly denied to them, was the theme of a number of blocks.

    Perhaps though, the most painful block was Wazhma’s (photo below).  She showed a mother offering her daughter for sale because crushing poverty offered no other solution.

     

    

    Wazhma’s block shows a mother offering her daughter for sale.

     

    The beauty of telling stories through embroidery is that it is slow, it takes time and care. As the women stitched, they talked to each other.  At first, they talked about the needlework itself, previous experience with stitching, colors to use, whether to use one stitch or another.  But then the important discussions took over:  Do we have friends in common? Did you leave family behind?  Who did you lose?   They encouraged each other, in their stitching and in the struggles of adapting to a new and foreign life.

    At the end of our four days and the completion of nine beautiful embroidered blocks, it was possible to see a change in the participants, however slight.  They had told some of their stories, they had been listened to, and they had found new friends with shared experiences.  Contact information was shared, plans were made to continue embroidering more of their stories with a focus on what the future might be, and laughter was in great supply.  There seemed to be a new resolve to take charge of their situation and move toward what they want.

    As the outsider, I found two things in particular that confirmed this resolve. The first was the stated desire of every single participant to be able to return to Afghanistan one day and rebuild the lives that had been stolen from them – and the belief that this would happen.

    The second thing was the desire, shared with me privately by a number of the women, to find a way that they could help the women and girls still in Afghanistan, primarily through helping them to continue their education.  They understand the importance of education and the difference it can make.

    We had a final debrief of the training and, for the first time, were able to introduce to the embroiderers the quilter who would be putting their blocks into an advocacy quilt.  Janet presented some ideas and asked for feedback and suggestions which the ladies happily provided.

     

    

    Tools of our (quilting) trade!

     

    They also had suggestions for further training, including Frishta’s suggestion to include music breaks.  Noted!  One participant thanked AHRDO and AP for providing a much needed “mental” break for them and others agreed.

    As the women left, they seemed satisfied and happy. The polite introductory handshakes of Monday morning were replaced by long, heartfelt hugs and beautiful smiles.  The training had been a success on many levels.  I hope our time together and the friendships that have been established will encourage these women to use their strength and passion to press for the justice they deserve.  My experience tells me that it can definitely happen.

     

    

    Meeting with Janet, a member of the Toronto Quilt Guide who has agreed to assemble the stories into an advocacy quilt. We are excited to see what she will come up with!

     

    *

16. 1,800 Fires in Eight Years: Living with Flame in the Rohingya Refugee Camps

    January 5, 2026 4:20 am Leave a Comment

    

    Wide view of burned shelters in the Rohingya refugee camps, where flammable housing turns small sparks into large-scale disasters

     

    Fire has become a constant presence in the Rohingya refugee camps of Cox’s Bazar. It is not an unexpected tragedy, nor a rare emergency. It is a recurring threat built into the very structure of camp life. Over the past eight years, more than 1,800 fires have torn through these settlements, destroying shelters and forcing families to relive displacement again and again.

    For many Rohingya, the sight of flames carries painful memories of their villages in Myanmar. Each new fire does not only destroy homes made of bamboo and plastic it revives trauma, fear, and a deep sense of insecurity that never fully fades.

    The camps are among the most densely populated places in the world. Shelters are built almost entirely from bamboo, tarpaulin, and plastic rope materials chosen for being temporary and inexpensive, yet dangerously flammable. During the dry season, heat and wind transform entire blocks into fuel, allowing fires to spread within minutes.

    

    Overcrowded shelters built wall to wall leave no buffer against the rapid spread of fire.

     

    Cooking is another unavoidable danger. Families rely on LPG cylinders inside cramped shelters with little ventilation. A small gas leak, an unstable stove, or an electrical fault can ignite a blaze that spreads faster than people can escape.

    

    Household items and cooking spaces burned after a fire, highlighting everyday risks inside the shelters.

     

    When fire strikes, everything goes. Shelters collapse within minutes. Food rations burn. Schoolbooks, clothes, cooking utensils, and identity documents are reduced to ash. Livestock often the only source of income for a family are killed in the flames, pushing survivors deeper into poverty.

    

    A child searches through burned school materials after a fire, a reminder that education is often among the first losses.

     

    Emergency response is complicated by the camp’s layout. Narrow pathways and steep terrain prevent fire engines from reaching the heart of burning areas. In many cases, Rohingya volunteers become the first responders, using buckets, sand, and their own hands to evacuate families and slow the fire.

    

    Community volunteers respond to the aftermath of a fire before emergency services can arrive.

     

    Survivors carry the impact long after the flames are extinguished. Children struggle to sleep. Elderly people fear they will not be able to escape next time. Women describe living in a constant state of anxiety, especially at night, when many fires begin.

    

    A survivor sits beside a burned shelter, reflecting the emotional toll left behind after the fire.

     

    After the smoke clears, families begin rebuilding often with the same materials that burned before. Emergency shelters are erected quickly, but they remain just as vulnerable. This cycle of burning and rebuilding has become a painful routine, reinforced by policies that restrict durable and fire-resistant construction.

    

    New bamboo shelters rise after the fire, restarting the same cycle of risk.

     

    At the heart of this crisis is a policy of enforced temporariness. Even after eight years of displacement, safer building materials remain limited. While some fire-resistant designs exist, funding gaps and restrictions leave most families exposed to the same dangers.

    As the world steps into 2026, millions celebrate new beginnings. For the Rohingya, the new year arrives with a familiar fear wondering whether their shelter will survive the next fire.

    

    Rebuilding after fire, with the same materials and the same risks.

     

    Closing Thought

    Until temporary solutions are replaced with safe, durable, and dignified housing, fires will remain an unavoidable part of Rohingya life not because they are inevitable, but because they are allowed to be.

17. How Rohingya Families Are Growing Food and Hope Inside the Camps

    December 17, 2025 4:06 am 1 Comment

    

    
    Resilience in action — Rohingya women leading household nutrition through small kitchen gardens.

     

    In the world’s largest refugee Camp 15 Jamtoli, where land is scarce and daily life is defined by restrictions, growing food is an act of quiet resistance and hope.

    Just weeks ago, families involved in the REAL (Rohingya Education and Advocacy League) nutrition project received seeds, and simple gardening materials. On 15 November 2025, those seeds were planted in sacks, Beside shelters, and some are in open areas . Today, green shoots are rising across the camp clear proof that even in the most constrained environments, life finds a way.

    This third phase of our nutrition project focuses on seed planting and daily care. It marks the transition from preparation to visible impact.

    Growing Food Without Land

    In refugee camps, traditional farming is impossible. Families live shoulder-to-shoulder, with no access to farmland and very limited space. To overcome this, REAL introduced container and sack gardening, using recycled aid sacks, buckets, and household containers.

     

    

    Hands watering young plants in garden

     

    Cucumbers, eggplants, pumpkins, beans, bitter gourd, snake gourd, and bottle gourd are now growing in and around shelters. Some families are planting in tiny open spaces between homes, while others grow directly beside their shelters turning unused corners into food sources.

    These gardens are not just practical; they are deeply symbolic. Each plant represents dignity, self-reliance, and care for one’s family.

    Women at the Heart of the Project

    Women and girls are leading this effort.

     

    

    
    Resilience in action — Rohingya women leading household nutrition through small kitchen gardens.

     

    In a context where women’s mobility, education, and economic opportunities are extremely limited, this project brings meaningful work directly to their doorsteps. Women are responsible for planting, watering, and protecting the crops while also passing knowledge to their children.

    Beyond nutrition, gardening provides psychosocial relief. Nurturing plants offers calm and purpose in an environment marked by trauma, overcrowding, and uncertainty.

    Early Signs of Impact

    Just weeks after planting, vegetables are growing strong. Leafy vines are climbing bamboo walls. Seedlings have survived harsh weather and poor soil thanks to composting, careful watering, and daily attention.

     

    

    Healthy Leaves and Veins are climbing Bamboo and shelf

     

    The first harvests are expected within the next 3–6 weeks, depending on the crop. Families are already planning how to share vegetables within households, reduce dependence on food rations, and improve children’s diets.

    For families who have gone months without fresh vegetables, this change is profound.

    This project proves that small investments create lasting impact. With minimal materials and strong community ownership, families are producing food where none was expected.

    REAL is a Rohingya-led initiative trusted within the community, cost-effective, and deeply rooted in local realities. With further support, this model can be expanded to reach more households, integrate composting, and strengthen women-led livelihoods.

    These gardens are more than vegetables.

    They are about nutrition, dignity, and resilience.

    As one mother told us, “When I water these plants, I feel I am feeding my children’s future.”

    Call to Action

    To expand this work through seeds, tools, training, and follow-up support we invite partners and donors to stand with REAL and the families transforming their shelters into sources of nourishment and hope.

     

    

    Climbing Bottle gourd vines

     

    

    Caring garden

     

    

    A wide shot of a grow bag or sack garden beside a shelter, with healthy green leaves

     

18. Soap, Water, and a Wave of Cultural Shift Up North in Gulu District.

    December 12, 2025 8:07 am Leave a Comment

    Gulu Disabled Persons Union (GDPU) WASH program is built on a fundamental belief: that profound, lasting change begins with the smallest, most consistent actions. We’ve constructed robust 5 stance latrine facilities in seven schools, complete with incinerators, changing rooms and water systems, but we know infrastructure is only half the battle. The real victory lies in fostering a cultural shift, specifically, establishing a consistent, non-negotiable standard of handwashing with soap and clean water for our children at school.

    

    The Culture of Hand Wash is Simple, Yet Key in Establishing Fundamental Behavioral Shifts, Learners of Torchi Primary School Have Embraced this Culture.

    In the context of the larger challenges facing our children, from menstrual poverty to high malaria-related absenteeism, it might seem simple to focus on handwashing. But this small act is a foundational pillar of public health. When handwashing becomes a natural, immediate part of the school routine, after latrine use, before eating, it dramatically cuts down on the transmission of diseases, leading to fewer sick days, better attendance, and improved learning outcomes. Significant interventions can only thrive if the simple, essential habits, like handwashing, are mastered first. When a school culture fails to adapt to this basic standard, all other investments are placed at risk.

    To eliminate the most common barrier, the issue of budget, GDPU took direct action. As part of our commitment to influencing this cultural shift, we provided 40 liters of free liquid soap to every one of our project schools. This was a clear, zero-excuse intervention, removing the financial obstacle and affirming that every child should have access to soap for a clean, safe learning environment.

    

    A Hand Washing Station of clean Water and Liquid Soap in Panykworo Primary School.

    Our investment is a seed, but its growth requires the fertile ground of local ownership. Our monitoring has revealed a clear divide in how schools are embracing this crucial shift.

    Unfortunately, some schools, like Abaka, and Ogul Primary School, have not yet effectively integrated the new hygiene standards. The beautiful new facilities sit in place, but the consistent, daily practice of handwashing with soap often remains sporadic, highlighting a reluctance to fully adapt to and enforce the new culture we are championing. This lack of ownership over the fundamental habit undermines the entire purpose of the WASH facilities.

    However, the tide is turning in powerful ways elsewhere. Schools such as Panykworo Primary School and Kulu Opal Primary School have picked up the culture change seamlessly. Their administrators and teachers have internalized the value of consistent hand hygiene, ensuring that the soap and water systems are utilized daily and that the new culture is actively sustained. These schools are the vital evidence we seek, proof that our stakeholders not only see the need for our interventions but are willing to embrace the responsibility and ownership necessary for success.

    The core of our WASH program is precisely this: to influence a simple, yet profound, hygiene culture and establish the sturdy foundation upon which all meaningful future changes, in health, education, and equity, can be possible.

    

    A Pupil of Awach Central Primary School Washes Her Hands with Clean Water and Soap.

    We know the challenge of sustainability is the final frontier. We’ve provided the infrastructure, the training, and the soap. But what happens when the 40 liters run out, and the decision falls squarely on the school budget?

    The success of a revolution is measured not by the battles won by its founders, but by the commitment of its inheritors. As we move from intervention to integration, the critical question remains: will every school internalize the culture of hygiene and permanently allocate the budget for a simple bar of soap? The answer will define the health and future of a generations to come…

19. The Data Revolution: Fueling Success of the GDPU WASH Program.

    December 6, 2025 9:07 am Leave a Comment

    Good intentions alone are insufficient to solve the persistent problem of keeping girls enrolled in rural Ugandan schools; it requires precision. Gulu Disabled Persons Unions (GDPU) WASH program relies on a robust, data-driven strategy to move beyond simple charity toward measurable impact and strategic accountability. This approach is essential because it allows the program to overcome generic assumptions and identify the specific, nuanced barriers—such as the broken doors or inadequate MHM facilities, rather than just a deficit of toilet stalls. By using targeted data from facility audits and surveys, GDPU in partnership with the Advocacy Project ensures that resources are allocated to solve the real dignity gaps that deter girls’ attendance, making every intervention count.

    

    A Latrine in Ogul Primary School is Completely taken up by Wasps and the School has Abandoned It.

     

    The “Data-First” approach drives efficiency and maximizes the utility of limited resources. Accurate monitoring data acts as a financial compass, ensuring every resource yield maximum returns, which is crucial for building trust with partners. For instance, facility audit data and student feedback guided by prioritizing the fixing of a broken borehole serving a large community over minor issues in less-used structures. Similarly, data dictates the frequency and intensity of checks and balances; high-risk schools receive more attention, optimizing staff time. This data-backed prioritization is the essence of responsible fiscal management and effective project execution for our WASH program a GDPU.

    

    The cost of neglect: an unsafe WASH facility in Awach Central Primary School.

    Furthermore, data collection ensures that training and resource distribution are perfectly customized. Data analysis informs the execution of Goal E (Provide hygiene training); if handwashing is high but safe water storage is low, training efforts are immediately shifted to address the greater vulnerability. This directly strengthens the program by focusing on comprehensive hygiene., data on school population and facility usage sets realistic targets, ensuring the highest-need schools are prioritized, transforming production from a simple output metric into a key performance indicator (KPI) for health.

    

    A stark example of what happens when monitoring becomes optional, A larine Designed for Children with Disability in Awach Central Primary School Completely Left to Fall Apart.

    Crucially, data creates a dynamic feedback loop essential for long-term sustainability. When monitoring data reveals an unexpected surge in waterborne illness, it doesn’t just record a problem; it triggers an immediate investigation and in-flight course correction in facility maintenance. This agility is the hallmark of a resilient program. Moreover, the quantifiable results—improved attendance rates and reduced WASH-related diseases—form the most powerful evidence, resonating with funders and advocating for policy adoption.

    

    Dirty and Stagnant water at the water point posses real danger for learners at Panykworo Primary School.

    By embedding data into the very DNA of the GDPU WASH program, the organization ensures its interventions are not just performed, but are optimized, accountable, and profoundly impactful, truly empowering girls to stay in school and thrive. The data proves our value, guides our actions, and ultimately, dictates our success. But what happens when the data that promises success also reveals a deeper, more systemic challenge… a hurdle that requires not just better facilities, but a transformation of the entire community’s mindset? What happens when the greatest barrier to a girl’s education is not a broken tap, but an unseen bias captured in a single, chilling statistic?

20. Small Seeds, Big Impact: A New Chapter in Rohingya Food Security

    November 27, 2025 11:35 pm 1 Comment

    In the world’s largest refugee camp, where hunger, overcrowding, and restrictions define daily life, even the smallest sign of growth feels extraordinary. Today, as we move into the third stage of our nutrition initiative under REAL — following our earlier training sessions and successful distribution of materials  we finally witnessed the moment our beneficiaries had been waiting for: seed planting and the first watering of their home gardens.

    These simple actions carry a much deeper meaning. They mark the beginning of real, tangible change.

    

    Preparing the soil — the first step toward self-grown nutrition.

     

    A Project Rooted in Urgency and Hope

    Food insecurity in the Rohingya camps has reached a critical point. Ration cuts, rising prices, and the complete absence of livelihood opportunities leave families struggling every day. Fresh vegetables  once rare, now almost impossible.

    But through sack gardening, families are beginning to break through this barrier.

    With sacks, compost, bamboo, fertilizer, and training already provided, the next step was to help families turn the materials into action. This week, community members began preparing soil, planting seeds, and using water carefully through the grow-bag system.

    What looks like a small garden project is, in reality, a lifeline for families facing limited food and shrinking options.

    

    Turning shelter walls into vertical farms — a creative response to zero land access.

     

    Women at the Center of the Transformation

    As with every stage of the project, women are leading the implementation.In a place where they rarely have access to safe spaces or learning opportunities, this project gives them a new role: food producers, decision-makers, and caretakers of their own small gardens.

    During our field visit, many women shared how meaningful it felt to plant something with their own hands. A few said it was the first time in years that they felt they were contributing something directly to their family’s survival.

    For them, these gardens are more than vegetables. They represent dignity, capability, and a renewed sense of purpose.

    

    Every seed planted is a step toward nutrition and self-reliance.

     

    Why This Stage Matters for Donors and Partners

    This third stage , the actual planting  is where your support becomes visible.

    It is where training turns into action…

    Where tools turn into opportunity…

    Where hope begins to grow in the most difficult environment.

    For donors and partners, this is the exact moment where the impact of investment becomes measurable:

    Families now have fresh vegetables growing directly at their shelters.

    Women are gaining practical agricultural skills they can use long-term.

    Dependence on shrinking food aid begins to slightly shift.

    Households get a cost-free source of essential micronutrients.

    The community feels more empowered and more resilient.

    This project proves that even small contributions  seeds, sacks, gloves, bamboo  can create meaningful and lasting change when placed in the hands of capable, determined Rohingya families.

    

    The first green signs of success — families nourish their own future.

     

    A Call for Partnership

    REAL is committed to expanding this initiative, strengthening monitoring, and supporting more families with tools, training, and follow-up. But reaching more households is only possible with the support of compassionate individuals and organizations.

    Every sack garden is a quiet act of resilience against hunger.

    Every seed planted is a message that Rohingya families deserve more than survival  they deserve a future.

    If you or your organization would like to support or collaborate with REAL, we welcome your partnership. Together, we can help more families grow food, grow dignity, and grow hope.

21. Growing Hope in the Rohingya Camps with Seeds in Crisis

    November 20, 2025 3:41 am 1 Comment

    

    Families receiving seeds and tools for their home gardens.

     

    “This gives us a little control again. If we can grow even a few vegetables, my children will eat better”

    – Mother of a family that has received seeds

     

    In the world’s largest refugee settlement, where families struggle daily with shrinking food rations and limited opportunities, even the smallest seed can carry enormous hope.

    This week, our team distributed vegetable seeds and home-gardening materials to families across different blocks of the Rohingya refugee camps in Cox’s Bazar. What may seem like a simple activity became, for many people, a powerful moment of dignity, empowerment, and relief.

     

    

    A Father collects materials that will help him grow fresh food.

     

    Planting More Than Gardens

    Each family received a small but complete set of items: Five types of vegetable seeds; Sacks for planting; Bamboo sticks; Watering can; Hand gloves; Netting; Fertilizer

    For many mothers and fathers, this was the first time in years they felt they had something they could grow with their own hands.

    “This gives us a little control again,” one mother said, holding her seeds carefully. “If we can grow even a few vegetables, my children will eat better.”

    In a place where food insecurity is worsening each month, even a small home garden becomes a lifeline.

    More Than Nutrition — A Sense of Independence

    The Rohingya camps face strict movement restrictions. People are not allowed to work, travel, or access farms or farmland. As a result, the community relies almost entirely on aid  aid that has been decreasing over time.

    But this simple project does something powerful:

    🌱 It gives people a sense of independence in a life where they are allowed to decide almost nothing.

    🌱 It reduces hunger, especially for children who rarely get fresh vegetables.

    🌱 It supports emotional wellbeing, letting families feel productive, hopeful, and connected to the earth again.

    🌱 It restores dignity, reminding people that they are capable and resourceful.

    A father told us, “When we fled from Myanmar, we left our farms and everything behind. Today, I feel like I am getting a small part of my life back.”

    A Community Moving Forward Together

    Our volunteers didn’t just hand out materials  they explained how to use each item, discussed planting methods, and encouraged families to share their progress. The camp lanes were filled with excitement, laughter, and gratitude.

    This was more than a distribution.

    It was a moment of unity.

    A reminder that even in severe hardship, the community still has strength, skills, and dreams.

     

    

    Receiving seeds and materials with a smile!

     

    A Call for Global Attention

    This project also highlights a growing crisis: food shortages in the Rohingya camps are becoming dangerously severe.

    Families are receiving less food than ever before. Children are showing signs of malnutrition. Parents skip meals so their children can eat. These gardens are a small solution  but they show how much families can do if they have even a little support.

    What these camps need now is not sympathy alone, but sustained support, investment, and attention from global partners.

    Gratitude and Moving Forward

    This project was made possible through the support and trust of Iain, whose belief in community-led work turned an idea into real impact in the hands of people who need it most.

    We will continue monitoring the gardens, collecting stories, and sharing updates through photos and future blogs  because showing real progress matters.

    Sometimes hope grows quietly.

    Sometimes it fits inside a small packet of seeds.

    But inside these camps, hope is growing again one garden at a time.

     

22. A Rohingya Boy Lost at Sea

    November 18, 2025 12:03 am 1 Comment

     

    

    Missing at sea: Furkahan, 13

     

    Missing child information: Name –  Furkahan; Age –  13 years; Education – Grade 7; Father – Abdul Hoque; Mother- Rashida; Address – Jamtoli Camp-15, Block-G; UNHCR # – 231589; Origin – Aung Seik Pyin, Maungdaw (Myanmar); Father’s Occupation – day laborer; Contact phone: 01865849656

     

    “Is our son still alive somewhere on the vast sea?”

    – Abdul Hoque, Furkahan’s father

    Thirteen-year-old Furkahan, a Grade 7 student from Jamtoli Camp in Cox’s Bazar, is among dozens feared dead or missing after a Rohingya boat sank near Malaysia. His family now lives in unbearable uncertainty caught between the hope that he survived and the fear that he may never return.

    A Family Escaping Violence in Myanmar

    Before becoming refugees, Furkahan’s father, Abdul Hoque, was a farmer in Aung Seik Pyin (Dombhai), northern Maungdaw Township. In 2017, the Myanmar military burned their home and destroyed their village.

    Fearing for their lives, Abdul fled with his wife and six children to Bangladesh.

    “We lost everything,” Abdul recalled. “But at least we were alive.”

    Life in the Refugee Camp

    In Bangladesh, the family settled in Jamtoli Camp-15, Block-G, joining nearly a million other Rohingya who escaped genocide. Camp life brought its own hardships little food, no job opportunities, and limited access to education.Despite severe poverty, Abdul insisted on keeping his children in school. He paid a home tutor 1,000 taka per month, even when it meant skipping meals.

    “I wanted my son to study,” he said. “He loved books more than anything.”

    The Day Furkahan Disappeared

    On October 26, Furkahan went missing. After two days of searching the camp, the family received a call from a trafficker in Teknaf.

    He told them that their 13-year-old boy was already “on the way to Malaysia” and demanded 350,000 taka for his “safe arrival.”

    The family was devastated. Their son had been taken without their consent one of many Rohingya children trafficked into deadly sea journeys.

    The Boat Tragedy

    On October 29, a boat carrying nearly 90 Rohingya refugees including Furkahan left for Malaysia.

    There was no news for days, until November 9, when heartbreaking images appeared online showing that the boat had sunk.

    Media reports confirmed that three small boats were part of the journey.

    One has been declared lost.

    Two others remain unaccounted for.

    Most passengers are still missing.

    A Family Waiting for Answers

    Since the tragedy, Abdul and his wife Rashida have been living in terror and grief.

    “We cannot sleep or eat,” Rashida said. “We only pray to hear something anything about our son.”

    They have reached out to Bangladeshi and Malaysian authorities, humanitarian groups, and rescue agencies, begging for information.

    Every hour without news deepens their despair.

    A Community Living Without Choices

    Furkahan’s disappearance reflects the growing desperation among Rohingya families.

    With no education, no right to work, shrinking food rations, and an uncertain future, many feel forced into dangerous sea routes in search of dignity.

    Some never return.

    For Abdul’s family, survival now hangs on one haunting question: “Is our son still alive somewhere on the vast sea?”

    As the world watches in silence, another Rohingya family breaks under the weight of loss reminding us that behind every statistic is a child like Furkahan and a family still waiting for hope.

     

    

    Abdul Hoque, Furkahan’s father:  Losing an elder son, losing hope….

     

23. The Weight of the Water: How the Daily Burden Kills a Girl’s Dreams—and Her Health

    November 17, 2025 7:04 am Leave a Comment

    In the marginalized, post-conflict districts of rural Northern Uganda, the educational institution should function as a vital anchor—a space where historical deprivations yield to the transformative potential of knowledge. Yet, a silent, pervasive crisis is fundamentally eroding this potential: the critical deficit in clean and safe water access within educational facilities. This challenge is not merely a technical infrastructural gap; it constitutes a profound social inequity that relentlessly dismantles the educational trajectory and lifelong health outcomes of the girl child. Each drop denied represents a breach of fundamental rights, and every kilometer walked translates into a quantifiable loss of instructional efficacy, setting the conditions for a persistent cycle of vulnerability that impedes the entire region’s socio-economic recovery.

    

    Securing the source. The community of Torchi Primary School working together to protect the community’s access to clean water.

    The pervasive water scarcity has systematically distorted the lived experiences of female learners, converting their commitment to scholastic attainment into an arduous, gendered domestic obligation. The cultural designation of water procurement as a female chore forces the girl to negotiate a constant, zero-sum choice between academic dedication and household compliance. When institutional water points are non-functional or non-existent, this obligation escalates dramatically. Instead of engaging in curriculum delivery, she is committed to walking long, high-risk distances—often exceeding an hour in round-trip transit—to compromised, unprotected sources. This opportunity cost results in a critical loss of instructional learning hours daily, ensuring academic underperformance and systemic failure. Crucially, the absence of safe, private water for Menstrual Hygiene Management (MHM) precipitates a devastating “dignity gap,” compelling adolescent girls to accrue 4-5 days of absence monthly or withdraw permanently, a clear denial of their basic educational rights perpetuated by discomfort and infectious disease risk.

    

    Establishing a structure around the new borehole/water point. Clean water access is key.

    The consequences extend beyond academic attrition, inflicting severe, biological damage. Exposure to contaminated sources introduces high levels of morbidity through chronic waterborne diseases, including cholera, typhoid, and endemic diarrhea, which remains a primary driver of childhood mortality in Uganda. This debilitating illness, combined with the energy exhaustion from procurement tasks, critically compromises the learner’s concentration and mental bandwidth. Moreover, inadequate WASH parameters are causally linked to Environmental Enteric Dysfunction (EED) and subsequent stunting, which irreversibly impairs cognitive development. Consequently, we are not merely documenting compromised school attendance; we are actively undermining the fundamental biological capacity of the next generation of female leaders, preemptively capping their potential before they can contribute meaningfully to the regional economy.

    

    The hands that use the water are the hands that protect it. Locals playing their essential role in safeguarding the well’s infrastructure.

    This destructive equilibrium demands immediate intervention. Investing in safe WASH provision transcends philanthropic gestures; it is unequivocally the smartest economic investment yielding superior public health dividends, higher educational attainment, and a more resilient societal structure. The requisite solution is holistic and inclusive: empowering educational institutions with Point-of-Use Treatment protocols (such as chemical disinfection), cultivating Community Ownership through the establishment of student-inclusive WASH Committees, and mandating the construction of universally Accessible Facilities. This is precisely the operational space occupied by Gulu Disabled Persons Union (GDPU). Through our critical WASH program, GDPU is proactively rehabilitating and constructing new water points with a stringent mandate for inclusive access for Persons with Disabilities (PWDs). By upholding the principles of Universal Design, we integrate features like ramps and appropriate handrails, ensuring that every child, irrespective of functional ability, can safely and effectively access the water, coupling this infrastructure with rigorous hygiene education to institutionalize lasting behavioral change.

    

    “Water is life, and clean water means health.”

    We cannot remain passive observers while the potential of our young women is curtailed by thirst, disease, and exclusion from the classroom. The timeframe for incremental adjustment has elapsed. We must immediately mobilize and escalate resource allocation to support these grassroots, inclusive interventions championed by entities like GDPU, channeling resources to remediate contaminated sources and investing robustly in the capacity development necessary for sustainable community-led water management. When we succeed in mitigating the debilitating physical and time-intensive weight of the water from a girl’s daily life and empower her with the weight of quality education, we unleash a transformative potential that secures the future of Northern Uganda. The systems and the strategies are now in place. The only remaining variable is the scale and speed of our collective commitment—will the global solidarity required to meet this urgent humanitarian demand materialize before yet another Hope, another Future, and another Dream is irreversibly erased?

24. Our Nutrition Project in the Rohingya Camps Launches!

    November 9, 2025 11:54 pm 1 Comment

     

    

    Rohingya women actively participating in the first nutrition training session conducted by REAL

     

    The Rohingya Education and Advocacy League (REAL) has officially launched the first phase of its nutrition and home-gardening project, designed to strengthen food security among Rohingya families in the world’s largest refugee camp.

    On November 08, 2025 our team successfully conducted two productive training sessions—one with Rohingya women and another with Rohingya men held separately to ensure comfort, cultural appropriateness, and better engagement. Both groups were highly attentive and eager to learn practical skills that can immediately support their families.

    During the session, community participants learned:

    > How to prepare soil properly

    > How to begin seedling

    > Correct methods for planting

    > Watering and spacing techniques

    > Basic vegetable care and maintenance

    These simple agricultural practices are essential at a time when malnutrition remains a serious concern, and food rations continue to decrease. By empowering families with the ability to grow their own vegetables, we aim to support healthier diets and increased resilience in the camps.

     

    

    Men’s training session focused on practical steps for planting and sustainable home gardening.

     

    Next week, REAL will begin distributing seeds and gardening materials to all participants so they can start the planting phase at their homes. This project is moving forward with strong community motivation and sincere appreciation for the support that made it possible.

    REAL will continue sharing updates, challenges, and progress through regular blog posts to ensure transparency and to advocate for greater food security for Rohingya refugees.

     

25. The Convergence of Service: Visionaries Redefining Empowerment.

    November 7, 2025 7:31 am 1 Comment

    For six weeks, I had the profound honor of working alongside two individuals whose visions for community empowerment were as distinct as they were powerful: Admiral Alex and Maddie. Both remarkably young, their wisdom and drive positioned them as true visionaries. This partnership was a masterclass in how modern service—whether through boots-on-the-ground development or digitally driven advocacy—can fundamentally redefine what it means to protect and elevate the interests of the people. Their stories prove that the greatest impact comes when tradition and technology converge with absolute passion.

     

    

    Alex and Maddie Spared time for a Group Photo with Learners of Kulu Opal after Menstrual Health Training.

     

    Admiral Alex is a man of the uniform who views service through a lens far wider than traditional security. He firmly believes that the true protection of the people’s interests goes beyond firearms; it must start with empowerment. During his six weeks with the WASH program at GDPU, Alex operated with a profound understanding: if communities lack the means to live a healthy and dignified life, the foundation for civil unrest is already laid. His approach, guided by this fundamental knowledge, proved that a leader’s most critical asset is empathy and the commitment to sustainable civilian well-being. This was the mentality he brought to the WASH program at GDPU.

     

    

    Alex Administer the Monitoring Tool with Deputy Head Teacher During a Monitoring Visit at Kulu Opal Primary School.

     

    In sharp contrast, Maddie’s vigor is channeled through a robust and relentless search for tangible results. Driven by a passion to amplify voices, she sees technology and social media as earnest tools for social good. Maddie’s focus is on the powerful narrative of young girls fighting to break the chain of absolute poverty and overcome challenging community perceptions about menstrual hygiene. Her work is dedicated to telling these stories and ensuring these girls stay in school—using modern platforms to tear down old barriers and enable a future driven by real-world change.

     

    

    Maddie Keeps a Watchful Eye on the Girls of Kulu Opal During Menstrual Health Training.

     

    Alex embodies the spirit of a mission-driven soldier whose primary weapon is Love. While his approach brooks no excuse for falling short, his demand for excellence is paired with an incredibly happy and jolly disposition. During his six weeks, Alex brought much-needed clarity and direction, most notably by re-aligning the monitoring tool. The result: our data became more direct and learner-centered, giving us genuine insights into impact.

    Furthermore, his engagement with the wheelchair program opened up new directions and possibilities. This genius lies in his powerful belief that kindness is the most potent element of life, a conviction that allows him to set uncompromising standards while inspiring dignity and success.

     

    

    Maddie Believes that the Future is Brighter with Every Stitch.

     

    Maddie is a force of nature, instantly injecting perspective, raw energy, and fierce drive. As a strong proponent that the world is a global village ready to learn and offer support, she holds the key to unlocking this potential: telling their stories in the most compelling way possible.

    During her six weeks, Maddie acted as a visionary architect, meticulously reviewing and elevating our media platforms. She ensured we were actively setting ourselves on the road to recovery and sustained engagement. Focused and intelligent, she delivered practical solutions poised to shape our program’s operations for years to come. Her connection with the girls and her commitment to unmatched content creation established her as a true catalyst using technology to empower the next generation.

     

    

    Keen to the Process

     

    Together, this formidable duo didn’t just spend six weeks with us; they catalyzed monumental change. Under their guidance, we successfully reviewed and overhauled the monitoring tool and executed two comprehensive monitoring rounds across all our beneficiary schools. Their commitment extended directly to community health, leading to three impactful malaria prevention and testing trainings and the completion of two crucial menstrual health trainings.

     

    

    And From Theory, To Action.

     

    Crucially, their influence propelled our drive for new partnerships. With Alex’s strategic support, we organized a highly productive meeting with World Vision. Simultaneously, Maddie’s sharp research skills ensured we had every piece of necessary information precisely when we needed it, allowing us to leverage data for the maximum good of the program.

    We also fostered a meaningful connection with the local structure by hosting a mutual meeting with the President of the Rotary Club Gulu. Given Alex and Maddie’s established links with Rotary in the UK, it was the perfect synergy to discuss future possibilities. Together, this duo teaches us that love creates a way where there is none.

     

    

    Both Maddie and Alex stitched Hopes into the Future of Countless Girls Up North.

     

    Today, the future is undeniably brighter. This light shines not simply because two incredible humanitarian minds landed in Entebbe from Derby, UK, and drove up north to the historically conflict-affected region of Gulu. The true brilliance lies in what happens when the good in our hearts is listened to and allowed to lead—the result is relentless, positive action. The friendship we forged in six weeks will light the embers of hope in the hearts of our children for years to come.

    As Alex would affirm, “This is not a goodbye.”

26. Malnutrition on the Rise: How USAID Cuts Are Impacting WFP Food Assistance in the Rohingya Camps

    November 1, 2025 4:56 pm 2 Comments

    

    Rohingya refugees queue outside a WFP food distribution center in Camp 15, Cox’s Bazar a daily struggle intensified by recent funding cuts.

     

    “I drink water and sleep when I feel hungry”

    – a mother in Camp 15

     

    In the vast refugee camps of Cox’s Bazar, hunger has become a silent emergency. For nearly one million Rohingya refugees, the World Food Programme (WFP) has long been the main source of food and nutrition. But following major funding cuts from USAID and other donors, that lifeline has been dangerously weakened  leaving thousands of families struggling to survive on shrinking food rations.

    Until early 2023, each refugee received a $12 monthly food voucher. Today, that amount has dropped to just $8 per person. Families who once managed two simple meals a day now eat only once  often skipping breakfast or lunch to save a little food for the evening. Mothers are eating less so their children can have a small share.

     

    

    A mother in Camp 15 prepares a small meal for her children with what little she has.

     

    Children are bearing the brunt of this crisis. Health workers report a sharp rise in acute malnutrition, anemia, and stunted growth among children under five. Many are too weak to play or study, with long-term effects threatening their development and future opportunities.

     

    

    Rows of tightly packed shelters in Camp 14 show the harsh living conditions that worsen hunger and malnutrition.

     

    Overcrowding compounds the problem. Narrow lanes, limited cooking space, and inadequate storage make food preparation and sharing extremely difficult. Families live in cramped conditions, increasing the risk of disease and deepening malnutrition.

     

    

    Entrance of the WFP-supported Nutrition Center in Camp 15, where malnourished children receive lifesaving care.

     

    At Nutrition Centers like this one, staff continue to work tirelessly, providing therapeutic food and supplements to the most vulnerable. Yet even these centers are under strain. Programs such as nutrition awareness campaigns, breastfeeding education, and community gardening have been scaled back due to funding gaps. WFP reports that thousands of children under five are now at heightened risk of malnutrition.

     

    

    Rohingya youth volunteers share nutrition advice and small portions of food within their communities.

     

    As food shortages grow, the pressure within the camps increases. Some young people are taking dangerous risks  seeking work outside the camp, getting involved in smuggling, or crossing the border to find food. Families fear that desperation could lead to more child labor, early marriage, or exploitation.

    Yet even in this crisis, hope continues to survive. Rohingya youth groups and volunteers are doing their best to raise awareness about nutrition, share small portions of food with neighbors, and promote local solutions like growing vegetables in small pots. These efforts show the strength and solidarity of a community that refuses to give up.

    The story of hunger in the camps is not about statistics  it’s about human lives. Every cut in aid means another empty plate, another hungry child, another lost dream. The world must remember that food is not charity; it’s a basic right.

    And for the Rohingya, hope  like hunger  has never been easy to silence.

     

     

27. Surfacing Opportunities, Soap and Social Media

    October 29, 2025 8:48 am 1 Comment

    Surfacing opportunities

    The last six weeks have taught us a lot about development work. Whilst work can sometimes progress slowly, it always gets done. This took some adjusting to initially, being so different to the Western norms. But all in all, alongside the GDPU team, we’ve achieved a lot.

    Whilst work has seemed to be at a slower pace here, we’ve been very busy over the past few weeks, and I think our progress has been significant. We’ve made 120 litres of soap, completed two rounds of monitoring of seven schools in September and October, three malaria trainings, two menstrual hygiene trainings, met with World Vision, met the President of Gulu City Rotary Club, attended the Rotary Club Conference, and worked on GDPU’s social media. 

     

    

    Soap making!

     

    

    Our second menstrual hygiene training with HerWorth at Awach Primary School.

     

    

    Attending the Rotary Club Meeting.

     

    

    Our new friend Faruk becoming a Rotarian! Congrats Faruk!

     

    

    Alex (left), Joe (centre) and me!

     

    

    Meeting current Rotary Club present and headteacher of a special educational needs school who work closely with GDPU.

     

    Aside from work, we’ve met all the GDPU team (who all greeted us with smiles each day); made numerous trips to the Gulu main market; changed accommodation three times; gone on a safari in Murchison National Park; attended the final Ability Sports Africa tournament; and had a new wardrobe made for us by the WAW ladies! 

     

    

    Gulu Main Market.

     

    

    Gulu Main Market.

     

    

    The wet streets of Gulu.

     

    

    Coach Isaac and his team celebrating big after winning the Ability Sports Africa Premier League!

     

    

    A frequent sight in Gulu!

     

    

    A very large African snail.

     

    

    Once in a lifetime experience at Murchison Falls National Park.

     

    

     

    

    Balancing skills!

     

    With the newly developed monitoring tool, GDPU are paving the way for future collaborations with other organisations to continue their work. Continuing to monitor schools will provide invaluable evidence for the success of GDPU’s model, something we are sure will continue in the future. 

    We’ve found money is the biggest limiting factor, and this is likely the same for many organisations across the world. The GDPU team are absolutely not short of ability, drive, passion or direction, but are often restricted by a lack of access to funds. However, with lots of determination they often find their way around this, managing to do an amazing job with what is accessible to them. This is an amazing and useful skill to have, which I’m sure is a major factor behind GDPU’s success. 

    Soap

    Last week we made 120 litres of liquid soap for distribution to GDPU’s partner schools. 

    The process was simple, although I’m not sure we should have been using sodium hydroxide so casually! For a step by step guide on liquid soap making, check out our Tiktok here: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMApe1EWh/ .

    To make 120 litres of soap, it costs approximately 240,000 UGX (~£50). This includes the 20 litre jerry cans for distribution (15,000 UGX) and materials (water, sodium hydroxide, glycerine, fragrance and colouring). Per 20 litres of soap, it costs 40,000 UGX to make. In terms of time, for a batch of this size, it takes approximately 1.5 hrs. It’s a simple but highly effective method. 

     

    

    Emma, myself and Alex mixing Clean Wash soap

     

    

     

    

     

    The soap is then bottled and distributed to schools who need it as part of GDPU’s WASH package. Schools get ~40 litres for free, and then they can pay for any more they need. This soap is significantly cheaper than soap available in local shops. 

    The soap making production line is being expanded to include people with disabilities at GDPU. This provides an important skill to these young people, which can be used both personally for soap production in their homes, but also to sell and provide an income from.

    Social media

    The importance of social media has become evident to me over the past two years working with the Advocacy Project (AP). For AP, we’ve managed to advocate for numerous start ups across Instagram, LinkedIn, Flickr and TikTok, amassing 12,000 views in total across 21 videos. This is important not only for spreading the message of these organisations, but also for fundraising and donor opportunities. Social media gives an immediate insight into what projects are doing with donor money; this high level of transparency can encourage more donations as trust increases. 

    In Uganda, I’ve been able to work with the GDPU team to establish new social media pages and develop their current sites. When doing this, it’s crucial that it is done in a sustainable way. Before setting up the pages, I made sure they would actually be used by the team here, and we were not setting up the pages purely because I was out here. I also ensured the accounts were all established using a GDPU team member’s email to ensure they would always be able to access their account, and were not relying on me to send a verification code from the UK!

    We have found hashtags to be essential. They link posts together, so if someone sees one of your posts with #WASH, for example, they’re more likely to see similar posts with the same hashtag. This way, awareness about these projects can be raised amongst individuals who have already shown some awareness in that area. 

    Whilst sites such as TikTok and Instagram Reels take some getting used to, it is simply a case of practice makes perfect! With the right tools and teaching, it’s easy to pick up on. It’s such an effective tool to reach global audiences quickly from your mobile phone. It’s unlike traditional campaigns which are often costly and time consuming – social media can reach a global audience in a matter of seconds! 

    I will likely be stepping away from my social media role at AP from now, but it has taught me invaluable skills which I will continue to use in the future! 

    We have had such a wonderful time in Gulu over the past six weeks and we’ll certainly be back in the future! Thank you to all the GDPU team for making out time so enjoyable.

    And thank you Iain for always being on hand to support us from the USA!

28. The 1:100 Crisis: How Broken Latrines are Flushing Away Futures, Dignity and Education in the Rural North.

    October 27, 2025 8:56 am 1 Comment

    The deplorable condition of school latrines in rural North is a severe and dignity-robbing crisis, driven by decades of conflict and critical under-investment, standing as one of the most significant barriers to education. Far exceeding the 1:40 national standard, schools often operate under catastrophic circumstances, with ratios soaring past 1:100.

    This untenable pressure immediately renders traditional pit latrines unusable, leading to collapsing structures, broken roofs, and an absolute lack of privacy like working doors. Fundamentally, this environment is profoundly unhygienic, unsafe, and violates the basic rights of a child, demanding immediate intervention not just to fix infrastructure, but to restore the right to a safe, dignified, and accessible education for every child.

     

    

    A Poorly maintained and Bushy WASH Facility in Kulu Opal Primary School.

     

    Once girls reach puberty, the injustice intensifies: latrines are rarely separate, lack essential lockable doors, and are utterly devoid of necessities like water, soap, or dedicated Menstrual Hygiene Management (MHM) changing rooms. Girls are therefore forced to choose between dignity and education, facing fear of shame and severe infection risks. They are structurally compelled into periodic and sustained absenteeism, an injustice that powerfully explains the poor academic performance and high dropout rates among girls in the north.

     

    

    Rusted and Neglected, A Functional Latrine Stance in Awach Central Primary School. 

     

    The direct and devastating consequence of this crisis is a staggering academic disadvantage that fundamentally undermines the goal of universal education. The lack of dignified latrines forces girls to miss an estimated three to five days of school every single month, an absence that quickly accumulates into weeks of lost instructional time over a school year.

    This is not merely a hygiene problem; it is a primary driver of gender inequity, making it incredibly difficult for girls to keep pace with their peers. We must urgently dismantle this structural barrier, as securing safe sanitation is the most direct and powerful way to ensure girls remain in the classroom to realize their fundamental right to a complete and equitable education.

     

    

    Broken Latrine Doors are no Longer Important Issues To Many Schools.

     

    Beyond the profound academic impact, poor school sanitation creates severe public health risks for the entire school population. Dilapidated, unsanitary latrines become immediate breeding grounds for disease-causing pathogens, and the lack of accessible water and soap for handwashing accelerates the transmission of waterborne diseases like cholera, typhoid, and diarrhea.

    For girls, the risk of urinary tract infections (UTIs) is significantly heightened. Furthermore, the dark, secluded nature of many broken latrines blocks also exposes girls to increased security risks and harassment. We can no longer allow the simple act of using the toilet to be a source of anxiety and disease; the safety and health of our children depend on our swift response.

     

    

    The Alternative is to Invested in Maintenance Just Like Awach Primary School Has Done.

     

    Improving school sanitation stands as one of the most vital and cost-effective investments for securing both education and public health in Northern Uganda. This demands a comprehensive, gender-sensitive WASH strategy that goes far beyond simply digging new pits. We must deliver new latrine blocks with private, lockable stalls, dedicated MHM washrooms with running water, and safe disposal mechanisms.

    By securing this hygienic and dignified environment, schools will drastically boost girls’ attendance and retention and improve overall student health. Our collective commitment is the key to ensuring the educational opportunities for Northern Uganda’s children are not flushed away by neglect, but firmly secured for their future… but the moment of truth is now: will we act before the next collapse?

29. Rotary Clubs, we need your help – you too can build a loo in Gulu!

    October 23, 2025 4:08 pm 2 Comments

    Rotary Clubs, we need your help – you too can build a loo in Gulu!

    As I’ve said in previous blogs, GDPU is a small organisation, and its M&E model can’t be expanded without solid partnerships. There’s two ways of doing that: finding on-the-ground, influential organisations who we can export the model to; or attracting donors and beneficiaries who can financially support its growth.

    The latter has become especially important this year, as President Trump cut 90% of the USAID budget – amounting to almost $60 billion. Humanitarian responsibility thus falls to private donors or Rotary Clubs, if not the cash-strapped NGO budgets.

    The Advocacy Project and GDPU are reaching out to Rotary Clubs who might be prepared to help. Three clubs have pledged support so far: Rhode Island (US); Gulu District (Uganda); and Gulu City (Uganda).

    

    GDPU fan-favourite and founder of Ability Sports Africa, Faruk (second from right), becoming the youngest person in Uganda to be awarded Rotarian status. Also a Rotarian recipient was the owner of Northern Pearl (third from left), where our shower burst into flames. He fetched us the fire extinguisher and inevitably saved my eyebrows from being burnt off. Sadly, this act of heroism wasn’t mentioned in his citation.

    But what does ‘support’ look like? To avoid falling into the woolliness of an ‘I support you, you support me’ trap, this definition needs to be clearly established with Rotary Clubs. Our ask is simple – we’re looking to build a consortium of global Rotary Clubs, who will lend their confidence and signatures to our funding bid for Rotary International. That way, GDPU can soften the blow of USAID cuts and claim grants of around $30,000 from Rotary International.

    The President of Gulu City Rotary Club, Samuel, is an inspiring guy. In his day job, he runs the “very special” Thumbs Up Academy, which helps children with additional needs. Samuel remains enthusiastic about putting his Rotary Club as a signatory of GDPU’s funding bid, and invited us to a district-wide meeting of Clubs the next day. Clubs from Gulu to Kampala are already engaging in ambitious WASH initiatives – but GDPU needs to spread its message further afield.

    

    At Thumbs Up Academy with Gulu City Rotary Club President, Samuel. The school has a sensory room (left) and several spaces where pupils are taught vocational skills to set them up for an independent life, from sewing to bricklaying (right).

    So what if we get more Rotary support? What would getting these grants mean for the WASH project? Our M&E model ensures that any donations are stretched as far as possible. Rather than spending $15,000 on a brand-new toilet block, M&E offers a more careful approach, identifying how to repair the old toilet for just $100. You can read all about it in my previous blogs.

    GDPU also identifies other low cost, high value approaches to make their money go further. Partnering schools with local health clinics – as discussed in my last blogs – is free of charge, but brings a massive impact. At Awach Primary School, after our monitoring visit helped broker a relationship, the local clinic donated over 3,000 antibacterial tablets and 200 mosquito nets. Reported cases of malaria amongst their pupils soon fell from 40 to 17 per day.

    

    At the Rotary meeting with Club Presidents from Gulu City, Gulu District, and Kampala. The District Governor (centre of the photo) gave us a warm welcome.

    A Rotary Club bet on GDPU is a good one. They spend money wisely, track progress carefully, and improve children’s’ lives endlessly. It’s been a privilege to work with them.

30. “If you die young, you don’t achieve your dream of becoming a doctor or nurse, just like us” (Nurse Susan) – the importance of malaria prevention training in Ugandan primary schools.

    3:14 am 2 Comments

    

    Sister Mary introduces malaria training at the Tochi School

     

    This week, we have completed GDPU’s sixth malaria prevention training at Tochi Primary School. Such training is essential, especially in an area such as Northern Uganda which has amongst the highest malaria prevalence in the world.

    GDPU helps its partner schools to make their own personal link with local health clinics. This ensures the longevity of the relationship between schools and clinics so they can work together again, whether on malaria training or other public health issues. 

    The process begins with a phone call from GDPU to the headteacher of the school introducing the idea of malaria prevention training. Most, just like Sister Mary Grace Latim at Tochi, are on board with us delivering this training.

    This session at Tochi Primary School was meant to be delivered two weeks prior, however, this would have fallen in the first/second week of term. In these initial weeks, most parents don’t send their children to school as they believe the teachers will not be there so it’s a ‘waste of time’ to send them. In most schools this is not true, however Sister Mary was eager to ensure as many children benefited from this session as possible and so we delayed it.

    Even still, it was disappointing to see some children running home when Sister Mary announced the training was taking place. When talking to the children who were present, she stressed the importance of this teaching, and thanked all those who stayed. However, she too was disappointed to not see the whole school present for such an important session. 

    A nurse and a doctor from the local health clinic led the session. The children were very excited to see the doctor – I gather he is something of a local celebrity as the doctor for the village!

    Susan, the nurse, discussed with the children the causes of malaria, signs and symptoms, what to do when you first experience symptoms, and how malaria is curable but you can contract it time after time if you’re bitten again. She stressed the importance of preventing malaria, rather than curing it, and the way to do this was by sleeping under mosquito nets, using repellent oil, draining any stagnant water away and slashing bushes in the compound to minimise their breeding grounds. 

     

    

    Susan teaching Tochi’s students.

     

    

    A VERY eager student!

     

    The children were all very knowledgeable on this topic, even naming the specific mosquito that carries malaria (with the best known being anopheles gambiae). It was bizarre to see children this young being so technical about a communicable disease, but it’s their norm from a young age. 

     

    

    Lots of hands-up to answer the Nurse’s questions!

     

    

    The testing begins….

     

    

    Most were scared of the finger-prick….

    
    

     

    

    … Others were not!

     

    

     

    

    The Doctor collects a small drop of blood for the lateral flow test.

     

    A child who particularly stood out to us all was Aloyo Princess. When we were monitoring Tochi’s toilets prior to the training session, we saw Princess leave class to sit in the sun. Joe correctly pointed out – “why would a child leave class to come and sit in the sun unless they are unwell with a fever”.

    Princess was coughing and looked generally unwell. When the health workers asked for anyone who might have malaria symptoms, or anyone who wanted to get tested, to join the testing line, Princess remained seated. So, Joe went over and ensured she joined the queue.

    Princess was very reluctant to get tested – I’m not sure whether that’s because she was scared of the needle prick or because in the back of her mind she knew what the result was.

     

    

    Princess wincing at the finger-prick.

     

    

    Malaria tests develop: a double line is positive. Princess was test number 208.

     

    After being tested, Joe had a discussion with her to understand how she was feeling about her positive result.

    Princess is 14 years old and in P4. Her mother is a single parent to her and her siblings, following the death of her father when she was 8. This positive test reflected her 6th time getting malaria.

    It’s alarming that she had already had malaria 5 times but did not put herself in line to be tested. This might reflect the cultural norm of viewing self medicating malaria with a simple dose of paracetamol, as reliable – whilst it might provide short term relief, it is not a cure so symptoms will return. Princess’ mother and siblings also often get sick with malaria; they have no malaria nets in their house which is likely a cause of their frequent illness. 

     

    

    Joe discussing the positive result with Princess, who looks noticeably worried.

     

    Following the training, Princess is eager to teach her siblings about this session. She left with a deep understanding of the importance of prevention rather than treatment, and is something she seeks to educate her family on. She is also extremely keen to be given some nets for their family.

    After this, I discussed with Joe how involved local health centres are in distributing nets to their local communities, and I was pleased to find out this happens frequently. So why is the malaria rate still so high? It was alarming to hear it’s purely because of greed; people take more nets than they need in case of needing more in the future. But even more alarmingly, mosquito nets are more often than not used as fishing nets and even as material for wedding dresses! 

    Out of the children present at the session, 66% tested positive. Without this training, it’s likely these cases would have gone undetected until their symptoms were much more severe. Sister Mary was extremely worried after being told this figure, but relieved that so many of her students would now receive treatment. 

     

    

    Out of these 12 tests, 10 are positive.

     

    For the children who tested positive, the health clinic came prepared with anti-malaria medication. Most schools will choose for this medication to remain at school and administered to the children who tested positive each day. This prevents stockpiling of malaria medication at home, which oftentimes expires before it is even used. 

    The health workers also delivered some limited training on HIV/AIDs and Hepatitis B. There was less focus on these as they are slightly less prevalent, however, equally (or more) important as their impact can be much more severe. The children were equally knowledgeable on the causes, symptoms, effects and treatment for these two diseases. For these, and especially HIV/AIDs, the importance of prevention was stressed even more as there is no cure. Likewise, for Hepatitis B, prevention via vaccination is key. 

    Whilst discussing all these diseases is important, the result of this was a relatively brief session on malaria, despite this being the main reason we were there. This has highlighted an important change that needs to be made.

    For future training, we think GDPU should put together a contract or brief for the health clinics on the topics they should deliver. The clinics, as the medical professionals, should add the substance, but we need to ensure that all children at GDPU-supported primary schools are being told similar information. For example, there should have been a greater focus on the proper use of nets, what to do if they break and where they may be able to access some nets for their family. Instead, the children were only told “nets can stop you getting malaria”. 

    Whilst this training and testing session was hugely beneficial to the students, it highlights malaria to be an epidemic in Uganda which requires significantly more attention that it is presently given.

31. Monitoring with ‘Awach-ful’ eye – seeing results from our M&E model

    October 22, 2025 1:43 pm 2 Comments

    Monitoring with ‘Awach’-ful eye – seeing results from our M&E model

    In a busy start to the week, we kicked off our October monitoring visits on Monday. This was the ‘after’ of our ‘before and after’ – the test for whether our M&E had actually paid off.

    At first it seemed like our results were a mixed bag. We began with a visit to Panykwowo, a well-administered school which has always warmly received GDPU’s monitoring efforts. True to form, the school had been very responsive to our menstrual hygiene advocacy. For the first time on any of our school visits, we saw soap, period pads, spare underwear, and towels directly available in the girls’ changing room. It was clean, dry, and by far the best-stocked we’d seen.

    But the upkeep of Panykwowo’s toilets and handwashing stations had been less successful. Their makeshift drainage systems were blocked, leaving pools of stagnant water and a haven for breeding mosquitos.

    

    Putting a dampener on things at Panykwowo: stagnant water at the handwashing station (left) and toilets (centre). A struggling drainage channel trickles away from the toilet block (right).

    Our second monitoring visit – this time at Awach Central School – showed a similar story. The toilets were dirty; the doors damaged; and the walls dilapidated. We’d also asked if the school could fix the gate at the toilet block: a low-cost, simple change which could go a long way to protect the dignity of children using it. But, with Awach Central stretched for cash – like all seven primary schools – requests like these can simply be too much to ask.

    

    Doors rusted, gates busted, and toilets disgusted: at Awach Central School.

    But, just five minutes down the road at Awach Primary, our luck turned. Out of all our visits throughout the past six weeks, no school better made the case for M&E than Awach did.

    From a basic WASH standpoint, everything at Awach Primary looked good. Despite being just five years newer than the toilets at Awach Central School, those at Awach Primary were in exceedingly better condition. The latrines were clean, and the broken tap we raised during our September monitoring visit was now fixed. But, in particular, Awach Primary’s malaria prevention efforts had made astonishing progress.

    

    Monitoring with ‘Awach-ful’ eye: the difference in condition between Awach Central (left) and Awach Primary (right). The pathway to the toilet at Awach Primary is essential for wheelchairs and the front gate offers privacy.

    After our September monitoring visit, we introduced Awach Primary to the possibility of working with local health clinics, having already brokered these partnerships for many of the other GDPU-supported schools. When we returned to Awach this time, this partnership wasn’t only in place, but prospering.

    Indeed, by putting the school and clinic in touch, our M&E model proved to have made another effective recommendation. Awach Primary’s Health Teacher had received 200 mosquito nets, 25 malaria testing kits, and over 5,000 antibacterial tablets to treat infections.

    

    “Awach and Learn”: Awach Primary setting the standard for local health clinic partnerships. Along with the malaria prevention resources, the school also secured five bottles of iodine; 2,ooo paracetamol tablets; and ten rolls of bandages.

    In collaboration with GDPU, clinics also run malaria prevention training, now delivered in six of the seven local schools. This teaches pupils about the importance of mosquito nets, medication, and eradicating mosquito breeding sites around the home – including bushes and pools of stagnant water.

    The malaria prevention package has only been rolled out last year, since it was flagged as an important WASH component by our monitoring model. But now, as the training begins to take stock, we can see its staggering impact. In fact, the Health Teacher admitted that since our training at Awach Primary, the number of malaria cases per day had dropped from approximately 40 to 17.

    And it’s not only teachers at Awach Primary who are taking the initiative. The pupil-led ‘health club’ has spearheaded efforts to clean up the site, including cutting the grass behind the toilet blocks. This gets rid of mosquito breeding grounds, keeping cases down.

    

    Cut the grass, the mosquitos won’t harass: Awach Primary leading the way (left); but Awach Central still needs some support (right).

    Malaria is a huge problem in Ugandan schools. The highest rate of positive tests we’ve recorded at a malaria prevention training is 74%. Our last session recorded a 66% positive rate. Continuing to support these sessions across all seven primary schools – and upholding Awach Primary as the gold standard – is already paying dividends.

    

    Positive tests, negative news: 66% of pupils testing positive (double lines showing) for malaria at Tochi Primary School.

    Our M&E model identified the prevention training as a way to tackle this challenge, and now we’re starting to see results. Progress is being made in leaps and bounds at Awach Primary – now we must empower the other schools to do the same.

32. “Ignorance is not a choice; it’s a lethal gap” A Child’s Cry and a Community Call for Support.

    October 20, 2025 11:52 am 1 Comment

    “We don’t need another lesson that ends when the bell rings. We need constant, urgent training that goes beyond the classroom, right into our homes. My little sister got sick because my parents didn’t know the net had a hole. Malaria took our savings, our sleep, and almost took her. Don’t just teach me to spot the danger—train my whole family so they can save us next time. Ignorance is not a choice; it’s a lethal gap. We need the knowledge now, and we need it to stick, forever.”

     

    

    A Young Girl at Ogul Primary School Takes In the Pain During Malaria Test, She Fortunately Tested Negative to Malaria.

     

    The words of 17-year-old Daniel Ojok echo with a sense of urgency that demands our attention: “Ignorance is not a choice; it’s a lethal gap.” His plea—for training that reaches past the school class rooms and into the heart of every home—is a stark indictment of the silent epidemic that continues to ravage the region of Northern Uganda: malaria.

    The recent malaria treatment and prevention training session at Ogul Primary School was led by Dr. Patricia Aciro, a health worker at Angaya Health Center 3, Unearthing a disturbing reality: Of 100 pupils tested, a staggering 54% were positive for malaria. This statistic is more than a number; it represents 54 families whose savings, sleep, and very future is under siege. It underscores precisely why the standard, infrequent health talk is failing, and why a fundamental shift to constant, comprehensive, School and family-centered training is crucial.

     

    

    Pupils of Ogul Lines Up to be Tested and Checked for Malaria after a Training on Prevention and Best Practices against Malaria.

     

    The devastating impact of this knowledge gap is acutely felt through the voice and testimony of Daniel. His family’s painful experience—losing savings and sleep because his parents “didn’t know the net had a hole”—underscores the cruel reality that a single lapse in knowledge can be catastrophic in highly endemic regions like the North of Uganda. We must heed his powerful call for training that reaches the entire family.

    As Dr. Aciro asserted, “An educated child is a shield, but a trained parent is the fortress. Continuous malaria prevention knowledge must flow to the whole community to truly break the cycle of disease.” The goal isn’t just to educate the pupil; it’s to activate the most critical line of defense—the pupils, parents and the whole community—transforming a fragile lesson learned in a classroom into a resilient, practical instinct within the home and entire society.

     

    

    Test Results Processing to Determine the Health Status of the Pupils at Ogul Primary School.

     

    Malaria doesn’t take a holiday or even a leave from duty, and neither can our prevention education. The training must be constant, not a one-time event, reaching every segment: young, old, school, and home. The necessity for this shift is driven by the region’s intense endemicity and a persistent knowledge-to-practice gap.

    In Northern Uganda, where malaria remains the leading cause of morbidity and mortality, high infection rates translate directly into missed school days, reduced academic performance, and chronic financial strain—perpetuating cycles of poverty. Furthermore, training must be precise: it must move beyond simply telling people to use a net. It must explicitly address the deadly misuse of tools and provide practical, repetitive instruction on environmental control.

    The community must recognize that draining stagnant water and proper disposal of plastics does not just deter the Anopheles mosquito, but also shields them from diseases like elephantiasis and Dengue Fever, reinforcing that prevention is a vital, and holistic defense mechanism.

     

    

    Dr Patricia Making Efforts to Explain Prevention Measures to Pupils During Malaria Prevention Training in Ogul Primary School.

     

    To achieve this instinctive defense, training must become constant and comprehensive. Institutions, such as Ogul Primary school, should be viewed as a crucial starting point, not the finish line. The health message must be channeled outwards, utilizing the energy of the learners, but supported by continuous, adult-focused education. Health workers must dedicate themselves to recurring community outreach sessions that are tailored to the realities of local life, focusing on practical skills like net repair and the early identification of severe symptoms.

    When training is continuous, the message doesn’t fade, and the proper use of preventative measures shifts from a burdensome chore to an automatic, life-preserving habit.

     

    

    A Young Girl Curiously Looks at other Results as Her Blood is Drawn to Test.

     

    We must move past the one-off health talk. The 54% infection rate among the pupils of Ogul Primary School is a crisis demanding an immediate and sustained response. By committing to making malaria prevention an ingrained instinct—a defense mechanism so deeply embedded it is never forgotten—we empower every parent, every child, and every community member in Northern Uganda. Let Daniel’s powerful account, 17-year-old voice be the catalyst that transforms our passive awareness into an active, lifelong commitment, finally breaking the devastating cycle of disease and building a healthier future.

33. Pads, Periods, and Poverty – how menstrual hygiene training can keep Ugandan girls in school

    October 18, 2025 2:22 pm 2 Comments

     

    

    I attend the training for making re-usable sanitary pads and am impressed by how well these girls are doing!

     

    On Monday, alongside four members of HerWorth, GDPO delivered menstrual hygiene training to 70 girls at Kulu Opal Primary School. 

     

    

    These girls were selected by the Senior Woman Teacher as being ‘of age’ for such training. Interestingly, girls were not selected based on year group; in Uganda, year groups are not decided by age but instead by ability, as some children will start school much later than others. As a result, we had girls from P4-7. 

     

    

    Senior Woman Teacher addressing her pupils.

     

    In Gulu, Northern Uganda, approximately 24% of girls drop out of school. The cause of this is not a lack of willingness to learn, but menstrual poverty.

    This has caused 21 girls to drop out of the Kulu Opal school this year. Girls are often not educated on what menstruation is and how to cope with it. There are rampant myths about menstruation and many girls face bullying at school from their male counterparts for bleeding onto their uniforms or needing to bathe at school. Furthermore, many girls will not be able to afford sanitary pads, and so decide it is easier to stay at home than worry about needing to change at school. 

    HerWorth is changing this, one session at a time. Brendah from HerWorth began the session by discussing the elements of menstruation with the girls. She discussed what menstruation is, importantly accompanied by a diagram of female anatomy which more often than not is never seen by girls, other changes to the female body, and the importance of personal hygiene during menstruation. I was also pleased to hear she discussed what is ‘normal’ for menstruation, so the girls can more accurately recognise when something might be wrong and access medical help.

     

    

     

    

    The HerWorth team!

     

    Whilst the session was conducted in Acholi, the girls’ reactions and expressions transcended language. These were reactions I understood from my first lessons on such topics. There was some worry and anxiety, mixed with curiosity and, for some, excitement. Some were inquisitive, others were shy. Some seemed to be enjoying the session, whilst others appeared scared.

    I think all the girls understood the importance of this topic. And if they didn’t, the deputy headteacher made this even clearer to them. She spoke about how she never had such education due to the stereotypes of the time, but is something she would have benefited hugely from. She emphasised how normal menstruation is, which will at some point affect everyone in the room. The girls appeared more relaxed, and even more engaged, after this. 

     

    

     

    

    Next, we moved onto discussing, and then making, reusable sanitary pads which are all made from recycled and locally available materials. Brendah led an interactive session with the girls about different brands of disposable sanitary pads available in the shop. The common theme: these pads are simply too expensive for many to buy monthly. To keep the session inclusive, as some of the girls would be able to afford disposable pads, Brendah did explain that these can be disposed of in the incinerator on-site. However, all took part in the session on reusable pads. 

     

    

    A demonstration of how much liquid these sanitary pads can hold – up to one cup!

     

    This was the part of the session where the girls became even more engaged – whether this was because they were doing something crafty or because they were excited to be able to take charge over something happening to their bodies. 

     

    

     

    

     

    

    Teamwork, concentration and fun!

     

    There were a few members of staff present at the session. Something I wasn’t prepared for was how engaged the younger, female teachers were in learning how to make reusable sanitary pads. This showed that the lack of education on menstrual health isn’t something that affects only young girls, but many older women as well who are even less likely to be taught about such matters.

    This likely stems from the generations of myths and misconceptions about menstruation. One myth is that menstruating women should not be allowed to cook food, as they are ‘dirty’ and will kill children they touch. Another myth is that menstruating women should not use the latrine if they are wanting a child in the future.

    We discussed all this with the girls in our session and attempted to debunk some of these long-held beliefs. Seeing the engagement of the teachers and girls showed just how wide-reaching and impactful this education can be: if all the girls present at the session discuss menstruation with even one other person (whether that is their mum, sister, cousin or aunt), 140 people could benefit from this one 3-hour session! Whilst this is still a pilot project, its impact is clearly immense. 

    With proper care, these reusable pads can last for up to a year, making huge economic savings through not buying disposable pads.

    Below is a step-by-step guide to making re-usable sanitary pads, for anyone who may find this useful or is simply interested in the process. 

    Step 1: Using a template, cut out the pattern. This material should be soft, so as to not irritate skin. Felt works well for this step. You can vary the template based on the size required. Use this PDF for a guide on creating a template.

     

    

     

    

     

    

    Step 2: Using another template, cut 2 lengths of the towel. This is the absorbent layer of the pad, so ensure the towel is suitable for this. Place this towel length ways on the orange-felt shape you have just cut out.

     

    

    Step 3: Sew the towel onto your orange, softer layer. Make sure it is central and runs down the orange layer vertically (as shown below). A simple running stitch works well for this step.

    
    

     

    Step 4: Next, using the same template used for the orange layer, cut out your waterproof layer. A silk-like material works well for this step.

     

    

     

    

    Step 5: Place the pink layer over the top of your orange/towel layer. The towel should be sandwiched between your orange and pink layers. Sew this together (your stitch should sew your pink layer to orange layer).

     

    

     

    

    This is what your pad should look like when the layers are sewn together.

     

    Step 6: Sew two buttons (to make your pad adjustable) or poppers onto the wing of your pad. Ensure you make a whole on the opposite wing so it can close, and sew around this hole to prevent it expanding.

     

    

    Menstrual hygiene training is a vital part of our WASH programme – a three hour session, supporting over 70 girls, hopefully serves as a sustainable and high-impact initiative.

     

    

    The result of the training – 70 happy girls who had each made their own reusable sanitary pad!

     

34. Bubble Trouble: Soap, Schools, and Signs of a workable M&E model

    October 17, 2025 3:56 pm 1 Comment

    As we start our second month of monitoring visits, we’re in a credible position to refine the M&E model. Thanks to the work of Aaron and the GDPU team, it was already solid. We’ve added more specific questions on pupil malaria illness, attempting to roughly gage the success of our malaria prevention training.

    We’ve also added a section to record comments by menstruating girls, asking how comfortable they feel using school WASH facilities. Previously, this was covered by a quick question to the headteachers themselves, which we felt was probably adding some bias to our findings!

    

    Effective M&E: The water tank at Kulu Opal Primary School. The tap wasn’t operational on our last monitoring visit in September – on our October visit, it was working.

    Refining the model is all well and good, but without properly responding to its findings, the model is useless. Our monitoring visit to Kulu Opal Primary School revealed a simple but serious issue: the school had only 20 litres of liquid soap to last the entire term. With over 500 pupils and toilets used around 200 times a day, that’s far from enough. Just through handwashing, they’d need at least 35 litres per term. With their current stock, only about 120 of the 200 children using the toilets daily could wash their hands.

    With Covid still prevalent and Mpox outbreaks emerging, the need for well-resourced WASH programmes is more acute than ever. These shortcomings can have devastating impacts for pupils, with knock-on effects suffered in academic attainment, well-being, and enrolment.

    So, as our monitoring had highlighted, we needed to make more soap. The seven primary schools under GDPU’s programme should receive 40 litres of liquid soap per term – enough for handwashing and general cleaning. Later in the week, we returned to the GDPU office with Emma and made 120 litres ourselves. 80 litres will be delivered to Awach Primary School, when we do our monitoring visit next week.

    

    Making the soap: mixing Sodium Laureth Sulphate, Cocamidopropyl Betaine, and Methylisothiazolinone – chemicals which don’t sound too safe to breathe in!

    You might recall the mantra of my last blog, about M&E being low cost, high value. Indeed, there’s only a small price to pay for sending a monitoring team out, paying for repairs which the visit exposes as necessary, and replenishing basic cleaning supplies.

    The same goes for liquid soap. Soap comes in 20 litre jerry cans: the jerry cans themselves cost 15,000 shillings; the materials (sodium hydroxide, glycerine, water, fragrance, colouring agents, etc) cost 25,000 shillings. So, in total, 20 litres of soap costs 40,000 shillings (and some strong arms for mixing!) to make. That means, to pay for the 120 litres of soap we made this week (enough to support a school for one year), it cost only 240,000 shillings – approximately £50. So, the mantra withstands – M&E: low cost, high value. For a relatively tiny investment, the impact on pupil health and attendance is significant.

    Our model – after almost two years of careful refinement – is clearly yielding some actionable, tangible insights. Now, our next goal is to expand its reach beyond the seven schools we currently monitor. But with the GDPU team already stretched thin, partnerships will be crucial.

    

    More evidence of good M&E: Kulu Opal toilets looking clean and dry.

    So after our Kulu Opal visit, the team met with David, the regional representative for World Vision. World Vision is a humanitarian NGO, pumping over $3 billion annually into global development. Their business in northern Uganda, like GDPU, includes several WASH projects.

    World Vision has a unique approach to monitoring: appointing local leaders and NGO representatives to oversee WASH activities within a small ‘cluster’ of 15 households. We talked through GDPU’s WASH success over the last decade: 30 toilets built; 12 Fellows sent; and $80,000 invested. Discussions about our M&E model were positive, and we arranged another meeting to discuss finer details with World Vision’s designated WASH professionals. So stay tuned for more updates!

    Impactful spending isn’t always big, ambitious, or sexy. Sometimes, all it takes is some careful thought, thorough monitoring, and a generous sprinkling of sodium hydroxide.

35. Restoring Dignity: Sowing the Seed of Hope, In a Mythical Society!

    October 14, 2025 1:49 pm 5 Comments

    The story of Kulu Opal Primary School is a testament to resilience, set against the grim backdrop of Gulu District, where a student drop-out rate 70% of them girls, sounded an unacknowledged cry for help. The silent culprit: “menstrual poverty,” a crisis that wasn’t just about hygiene but a devastating assault on the dignity of young women labeled “unclean” by community myth.

     

    

    Trained and Empowered, Girls of Kulu Opal Primary School with Their Reusable Sanitary Pads After Menstrual Health Training.  

     

    With vital backing from The Advocacy Project, our WASH program recognized that to secure their future, we first had to restore their self-worth. Our Menstrual Health Training began by dismantling deep-seated cultural stigma, the kind that saw 15-year-old Head Girl Anena Gladys barred from school, and replaced it with fact, normalizing a healthy biological reality.

     

    

    The Head Girl of the School, Gladys Anena neatly puts her Hopes in Each stitches.

     

    The key to autonomy was skills transfer. BRENDAH from Her Worth Foundation led a powerful session demonstrating that dignity can be woven with thread and needle. Girls learned to craft reusable pads from local materials, a skill so revolutionary it has brought drop-outs back to class and offered an escape from transactional vulnerability. They are no longer victims of their bodies, but resilient creators of a clean, hopeful future. Why, then, are we not scaling this solution yesterday?

     

    

    Peer to Peer Learning, the Girls Teaches Each Other Because they Realize That Ending Menstrual Poverty is  a Collective Responsibility.

     

    The urgency is undeniable: the Senior Woman Teacher confirmed 21 drop-outs this year alone due to this lack of access. The girls’ hunger for knowledge, demonstrated by their refusal to break for lunch until the training was complete, underscores the profound hunger for this change. By integrating this training with accessible latrines and essential, stigma-defeating incinerators, we guarantee that the dignity restored in the workshop is protected in the school environment, ensuring every girl can pursue her education with confidence and pride.

     

    

    Prossy, An Instructor From Her Worth Foundation Carefully Shows a Learner How to Use Her Material to Best Align Her Product.

     

    The success at Kulu Opal is more than a victory; it is a proven blueprint for achieving educational equity. We stand at a critical inflection point where the time for celebrating is over, and the moment for strategic scaling is paramount. We urgently appeal to our partners: we must secure the resources to replicate this MHM training across the district and immediately fund the procurement of more integrated WASH facilities.

     

    

    Young Ladies Of the Community of Kulu Opal at Work, With Every Stitch, Comes  a Future of Dignity.

     

    The future of hundreds of girls hangs in the balance, a future currently held hostage by myth rather than fact. We possess the solution, the method, and the mandate. The question is no longer if we can change the course of education in Gulu District, but who will step forward to decisively secure this unshakeable dignity, before another academic year is lost?

36. WASH and Women – supporting girls’ hygiene and sanitation at school

    12:05 pm 1 Comment

    Last week we visited all the primary schools monitored by GDPU. Our journey there highlighted just how remote many of them are. Three schools were an hour plus from Gulu along exclusively dirt roads. We passed remote villages, farms, and rivers which seemed to be the local meet up spot with nothing else around! We also saw a large correctional facility where prisoners are sent for ‘rehabilitation’ for many weeks – intense labour in a large farm, working 7am-7pm every day. Joe informed us they have to work for their food; food is at the end of the field, and they only get it once the land leading to that plate is ploughed/sowed/harvested etc! 

    

    Our journey to Abaka Primary School.

    Abaka Primary School stood out to us all as having some major failures. Present at our discussion was the headteacher and senior male teacher. 

    

    Most worrying for me was the responses to our questions about the girls’ experiences of life at Abaka. We were met with some reluctance (or maybe more simply just lack of knowledge in this area) from the Headteacher. When asked about where the girls change, we were alarmed to be told this takes place in the library. We were not able to see this, but the senior male teacher said there is simply a sheet, which anyone can lift up, separating the learning area of the library and this makeshift changing room. Thinking back to my time at school, I could not think of anything more humiliating than having to walk through the library, through crowds of people studying, to change. There are no washing facilities in or near the library, meaning the girls would then have to go back to the latrine block to wash themselves. The result of this is not only embarrassment, but wasting of important education time.  

    We also discovered girls were throwing their sanitary pads down the latrine pit. The result; a rapidly filling pit which becomes harder to empty. Whilst this school would benefit from an incinerator in future, at present the school has not proven capable of caring for such an installation. We aim to deliver a menstrual hygiene training session here to educate the girls on making re-usable sanitary pads, which in turn should cut down on such products being thrown in the latrine. 

    Upon hearing this, we were very alarmed. We had a stern conversation with both teachers present. The senior male teacher volunteered himself to take on this project; he appeared very motivated to change these key areas by our next visit to his school. He agreed to work with us, and most importantly the senior female teacher, to promote significant change in his school.

    

    The broken gutter system, which has been noted on out monitoring system.

    Awach Primary School proved much more successful. Their toilets were in great condition, and handwashing facilities were well equipped throughout the school. It was great to see the girls were using the incinerator to dispose of used sanitary items, and that the changing room was being used. However, we did notice the incinerator had not yet been burned since its installation. Whilst alarming at first, further discussion highlighted the incinerator was not yet full enough or ready to be burned (as the material has to be somewhat dry). We are also seeing how plausible it would be to deliver some training to the teachers on using the incinerator.

    Awach has a well-established student Health Club, with 30 children involved. Involvement is so high as those attending the club appear healthier and have fun whilst gaining this extra-curricular skillset. They discuss a wide range of health-related issues, including; personal hygiene, how best to maintain school sanitation, and delivering peer-to-peer education. The latter is arguably the most significant, especially for young girls who may be reluctant to discuss their changing body and health with teachers or parents. This week we are going to have more discussions with the teacher who leads this club, as we are hoping we can transplant his model into schools such as Abaka. 

    

    Meeting Awach’s Headteacher and Health Club teacher.

    After a long, hot and exhausting day, we were all excited to get back to Gulu. However, we had a slight mishap when trying to leave our final school (Awach Central Primary School). It provided an interesting spectacle for the pupils. Our driver soon had it sorted! 

    

    This week, we have begun discussing resource allocation to best support those who need them the most, especially regarding incinerators. We have altered our questions to collect more data on how many girls may be menstruating and how girls are currently disposing of menstrual products. Whilst not in the near future, this is still important information to collect as it will help inform allocation of the next possible incinerator. It will also guide us as to where may benefit most from a menstrual hygiene training led by HerWorth. This is more sustainable and reliable method for choosing resource allocation. 

37. Not your average Joe

    8:46 am 3 Comments

    Not your average Joe

    Meet the WASH team at GDPU

    Our WASH team at GDPU is small but mighty, led by Emma Ajok and Joe Okwir. The pair have amassed years of humanitarian experience, specifically working in disability advocacy and youth support.

    This week, I interviewed Joe about life at GDPU: his role; his biggest challenges at work; and what he’d do if a donor gave him £1,000 on the spot…

    

    Joe at the GDPU office.

    What is your role at GDPU?

    As the Project Officer for the Vplus project at Gulu Disabled Persons Union [a project offering safeguarding, counselling, and advisory support to over 80 young people with disabilities], my primary responsibility is to ensure the successful, day-to-day implementation and management of all project activities aimed at empowering youth with disabilities. This encompasses coordinating and supervising the training team and peer mentors, mobilizing beneficiaries, and overseeing the delivery of vocational skills, financial literacy, and business development training.

    I am accountable for providing crucial follow-up support and mentorship to graduates, facilitating their linkages to jobs or small business start-ups, and diligently executing the project’s monitoring and evaluation framework. Ultimately, I am the key driver responsible for translating the project’s strategic goals into tangible economic empowerment and inclusion results for the youth we serve, which includes preparing timely and accurate project reports.

    And for my role as the Monitoring and Evaluation (M&E) Officer for the WASH Program at GDPU, my central role is to strategically drive program effectiveness by designing and implementing a robust M&E framework that rigorously tracks the success, impact, and sustainability of all project components, including the construction and utilization of drainable latrines with changing rooms and incinerators, the effectiveness of menstrual health training provided in partnership with Her Worth Foundation, and the uptake of malaria prevention training.

    I am responsible for conducting field monitoring, collecting both quantitative and qualitative data on facility usage and behavioural change, analysing this data to carefully map out areas for improvement, and ensuring that all findings feed directly into adaptive project management. Furthermore, I manage vital stakeholder coordination with schools and local leaders to secure facilities, collaborate with partners to guarantee progress, and proactively leverage social media and blog platforms to promote awareness and document the program’s successes and community impact.

    
    

    Joe with the Her Worth team at Kulu Opal Primary School, working with girls to make reusable period pads from recycled fabrics.

    What made you want to get involved in advocacy work?

    My motivation is rooted in a deep sense of social justice and accountability, driven by the need to close the glaring gap between the progressive laws of Uganda (like the Persons with Disabilities Act) and the difficult daily reality of exclusion and rights violation faced by PWDs (Persons with Disabilities) in Gulu. I am fuelled by the intellectual challenge and moral urgency of dismantling systemic barriers—whether they are physical barriers to facilities like the new latrines, or policy barriers to economic opportunity.

    Furthermore, I draw immense satisfaction from empowering the community’s own voice, ensuring that the advocacy is genuinely led by the PWDs themselves according to the principle of “Nothing About Us Without Us,” while using my skills to facilitate, coordinate, and secure concrete, measurable improvements in their lives and in the broader community’s acceptance of inclusion.

    Inspecting the incinerator at Kulu Opal Primary School.

    What do you enjoy most about your job?

    My mission at GDPU is to ensure that the rights of Persons with Disabilities (PWDs) are not just affirmed but visibly achieved. My strategic commitment is reflected across three integrated functions: as the Project Officer for the Vplus Empowerment Project, I actively design and lead programs that deliver economic self-reliance through skills training.

    Simultaneously, as the Monitoring and Evaluation (M&E) Officer for the WASH Program, I rigorously generate evidence on the success and necessity of our inclusive facilities, such as the accessible latrines and MHM solutions. Crucially, I unify these functions by managing our organizational social media platforms, transforming M&E data and Vplus success stories into compelling advocacy content and public awareness campaigns. My motivation is complete: I am driven to implement life-changing projects, prove their success with hard data, and ensure that our collective voice and achievements are heard and replicated to accelerate systemic inclusion across the continent and globe at large.

     

    What are the greatest challenges you face in your role at GDPU?

    My greatest challenges in seamlessly integrating the Vplus Project Management, WASH M&E, Advocacy, and Social Media functions are rooted in the field. I constantly navigate the tension between generating the necessary, high-quality M&E data required to prove impact, and the need for immediate, compelling advocacy content to influence policy and public opinion, often resulting in a severe time-crunch were rigor battles urgency.

    Furthermore, despite my best coordination efforts, I grapple with the overwhelming project demand versus the limited resources available, forcing me to humbly manage the profound disappointment and high expectations of PWDs in Gulu who need vocational skills or accessible facilities. Finally, the daily battle against deeply ingrained attitudinal and political inertia – the resistance from local leaders or school administrators who allow infrastructure to degrade – means much of my work is spent addressing systemic human barriers rather than purely technical challenges, underscoring the demanding nature of rights-based development work.

    Hands-On and Hands Washed – Joe on a monitoring visit to Awach Central School.

    If a donor gave £1,000 (approx. 4.7 million UGX) to GDPU and you could spend it on anything, what would it be?

    I would invest the entire sum into Entrepreneurial Start-up Kits for 10 high-potential graduates of the Vplus Empowerment Project. This targeted expenditure is the most compelling use of funds because it directly bridges the critical gap between project output and measurable, sustainable outcome: instead of scattering the money on small operational costs, this single investment immediately converts trained individuals into viable business owners by equipping them with the essential capital assets (e.g., a commercial sewing machine or a specialized electronics repair kit).

    This action not only delivers an undeniable return on investment in the form of sustainable livelihoods, but also generates the irrefutable M&E data and powerful success stories required for my social media and broader advocacy efforts, thereby providing us with the leverage to secure significantly larger future funding and influence lasting policy inclusion.

     

    What do you hope to achieve with your advocacy work in the next ten years?

    Within the next decade, my advocacy and professional trajectory is singularly focused on becoming the Lead Disability Inclusion Specialist in the region, if not Africa, synthesizing my hands-on experience with advanced academic expertise in Conflict Management and forthcoming specialization in Public Policy or Inclusion.

    I will leverage this mastery to achieve a paradigm shift in the country from “Charity to Civic Right,” specifically by utilizing data to compel legislation and influence allocation and disburse a minimum of 10% of annual development budget toward PWD-specific needs, eradicating reliance on external funding for basic services.

    This verifiable local success will serve as the proof-of-concept I then shall use in continental forums – alongside my academic credentials – to drive the adoption of the Vplus model as an official, scaled-up economic policy and to drastically reduce key indicators of public stigma by at least 50%. My goal is to use data-driven local victory to inform and enforce the highest standards of inclusive public policy across the continent, firmly embedding the principle of “Nothing About Us Without Us” at every level of governance.

38. Background to the Camps

    October 11, 2025 1:35 am 1 Comment

     

    

    The Rohingya camps in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh, stretch across the hillsides

     

    The sprawling landscape of Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh, is home to a staggering reality: the world’s largest refugee settlement. What began as small, scattered camps has grown into a city of shelters for nearly one million Rohingya people  a humanitarian challenge of immense scale. To advocate effectively for the Rohingya, we must first understand the journey that led them here.

    A History of Displacement

    The Rohingya, a Muslim minority from Myanmar’s Rakhine State, have faced decades of discrimination and violence. Stripped of their citizenship in 1982, they became stateless in their own ancestral land. This denial of identity was followed by restrictions on movement, education, and healthcare  effectively institutionalizing their exclusion.
    Repeated military crackdowns forced many to flee to Bangladesh in waves during the 1970s and 1990s, each return more fragile than the last.

    

    Newly arrived Rohingya families rest after days of walking to reach safety in Bangladesh — a moment of exhaustion, resilience, and hope.

     

    In August 2017, violence escalated to an unimaginable level. Following attacks on security posts, the Myanmar military launched “clearance operations,” marked by mass killings, sexual violence, and the burning of entire villages. Within weeks, hundreds of thousands of Rohingya fled across mountains and rivers, seeking refuge in Bangladesh. The host community welcomed them with compassion, but the sheer scale of the exodus quickly overwhelmed the existing resources.

    Life Within the Camps

    

    “Refugees queue patiently for food assistance — a daily reminder of both their dependence on aid and their enduring resilience.”

     

    

    “A Rohingya woman prepares a meal inside a makeshift shelter — a glimpse of perseverance amid hardship.”

     

    Inside the camps, life is defined by both struggle and resilience. Families adapt to a new rhythm, surviving on aid while trying to preserve a sense of normalcy. Women, in particular, hold their communities together  cooking meals, caring for children, and passing down traditions. For them, each act of daily life becomes an act of resistance against despair. Amid overcrowding and uncertainty, dignity endures through these small but powerful moments.

    Cooking inside these cramped shelters is not just about food  it is about preserving family, culture, and hope in an unfamiliar land.Each ration they receive means another day of survival. Despite the uncertainty of tomorrow, their patience and discipline reflect a quiet strength that defines life inside the camps.

    Education: A Ray of Hope

     

    

    Rohingya children attend a learning centre — education offers light even in uncertainty.

     

    Despite limited opportunities, education has become a beacon of hope for the younger generation. Community-based learning centres offer a chance for children to learn, dream, and imagine a future beyond the fences. Every notebook, lesson, and shared story helps preserve identity and strengthen resilience among the displaced population.

    Conclusion

    The story of the camps is not only about suffering  it is also about endurance, compassion, and humanity. As long as the Rohingya remain stateless, the world must continue to advocate for their right to return home safely, with justice and dignity restored. Their struggle is a reminder that behind every number lies a life, a story, and an unyielding hope for belonging.

39. “The organisation does well those things which the boss checks”- General Bruce C. Clarke

    October 7, 2025 1:35 pm 1 Comment

    “The organisation does well those things which the boss checks” – General Bruce C. Clarke

    Why Monitoring and Evaluation is low cost, but high value

    Last week, we started our first monitoring visits to the seven primary schools which are currently enrolled in GDPU’s WASH programme. Visits are meant to take place once a month, without notifying the schools’ teachers ahead of time. So these were the visits for September.

    GDPU’s M&E model is built on a Google Forms. Via a sit down with the school headteacher, the form asks 74 WASH-related questions – sussing out whether girls feel comfortable using the changing facilities during their period, or whether there’s enough liquid soap to go around for the rest of term.

    The monitoring team – this time consisting of myself and Joe – then looks around the WASH facilities themselves. Are the toilets in good condition? Is there a cleaning routine in place to keep the toilets in good condition (or, more often, bring them up to a good condition!)? Is there any student engagement with the cleaning routine? As you might guess from the picture below, the answers to these questions can be a mixed bag…

    

    Toilets at Ogul Primary School (built just six years ago): in need of some TLC and M&E.

    Our feedback is then written on a scorecard, which is returned to the teacher, along with a request for them to take action where necessary. For me – as a westerner, very clearly new to this, and commanding absolutely no authority to tell qualified teachers how to run their schools – I find this part deathly cringeworthy. However, without written comments, the teachers will likely forget the takeaways of our monitoring visit. It’s hard enough attracting teachers’ involvement in WASH as it is, so some cemented, written next steps at least gives us a fighting chance of causing some improvements.

    Other blogs have shown the long, meticulous journey that GDPU have taken to get their M&E model to where it is now. Indeed, as the title quote suggests, along with Einstein’s famous words (“not everything that can be measured is important… and not everything that is important can be measured”), M&E can be difficult to get right. There are selective biases, and it’s hard to know which variables to test.

    Thinking practically, incentivising teachers to buy into GDPU’s monitoring efforts has also been a challenge. At Abaka Primary School for example – facing teacher strikes and administrative crises – pushing for better maintenance of girls’ changing facilities is seemingly too ambitious of a request. And asking teachers to maintain a cleaning routine is just another thing on their long list of immensely daunting and pressing tasks.

    A history of vandalism to Advocacy Project-funded public toilets in Gulu also taught us that local communities having a direct stake in the facilities could be helpful. But getting parents and community leaders interested is only having mixed success. At Awach Central School, “75-80%” of parents are attending PTA meetings, where discussions about WASH objectives for the incoming term took place. Conversely, at Abaka, encouraging parents to leave their farms for a day and attend a PTA meeting was proving much more difficult.

    

    At Abaka School, speaking with the Senior Man Teacher and the Assistant Headteacher. The repeated absence of their Headteacher has left the school flooded with challenges and adrift of leadership.

    Overall, however, GDPU’s monitoring efforts are paying off. The case of Kulu Opal Primary School is a perfect example. The toilets at Kulu Opal were first installed by Japanese humanitarian benefactors, back in 1995. It was reported to AP that the Japanese donors never returned to the toilets, so it was unsurprising that they quickly fell into disrepair. Thirty years later, GDPU’s prototype M&E model breathed new life into the Kulu Opal toilets.

    

    

    M&E in action: the toilets at Kulu Opal Primary School in June 2024 (above) and August 2024 (below).

    M&E stops the reinvention of the wheel. Indeed, demolishing the dilapidated toilets at Kulu Opal in 1995 – and spending around $15,000 to build some new ones – would’ve been the wrong call. Instead, M&E can clearly revive the existing WASH infrastructure, allowing GDPU to stretch their dwindling funds ever-further. All we need is a serviceable vehicle (already challenging enough!), printed copies of the M&E forms, and some strong stomachs. This is a proactive model, which can respond to damage and decay on a monthly basis, enacting simple repairs at no more than $100 each. A cheap, efficient, and reproducible method.

    As the stark contrast at Kulu Opal shows, monitoring is low cost, but exceedingly high value.

    More visits to follow next week – stay tuned!

40. How can we ensure girls’ voices are heard? – “Advocacy doesn’t happen in a day”

    12:50 pm 2 Comments

    On our first introduction to GDPO, we were shown the head offices, kitchen, the hall where training takes place, the welding workshop where broken wheelchairs are fixed, and the on-site health clinic. 

    

    The on-site welding workshop where Ben repairs wheelchairs for local people.

     

    In the clinic, we met Joyce, who leads its operations. But these are people I’ve only met before over Zoom. I don’t properly know their challenges or constraints, their backgrounds, or their lived experience. I’m desperate to ensure we aren’t treading on anyone’s toes here. It’s important to remember they are the experts – they have done this for years and know their community. Whilst our involvement can and will be important, the time limitations of our stay should not be ignored. Expressing these feelings to Joyce, she summarised it perfectly – “advocacy doesn’t happen in a day”. In fact, I wonder if advocacy can affect any change in six weeks? How long should I be spending here to make a difference? Six weeks? Six months? A year?

    

    GDPU’s on-site health clinic

     

    Chatting with Joe made me realise some limitations of this which I hadn’t previously considered, purely from being an outsider – might these girls want to be asked by a male who they don’t know what support is offered to them during their menstruation? May they want to be pulled out of their valuable lessons to talk about the cleanliness of their facilities? Is there a possibility the girls may be conditioned into saying certain things to us? 

    Girls clearly face unique challenges in the Ugandan education system. Menstrual hygiene is a massive impediment. Indeed, poor WASH facilities – offering minimal privacy and dignity for girls on their period – means many of them miss up to one week per month of schooling. Their attainment can soon slip behind. For girls who brave this ordeal, choosing the stay in school, the anguish continues. At Abaka School, girls have no designated changing room, so are forced to replace their pads in the school library.

    Girls are also bullied and shamed by their classmates – a problem which has flagged the attention of staff at Awach Central School, who have since instructed their Senior Man Teacher to discourage boys from this behaviour. But for schools without incinerators (only two of the seven GDPU primary schools have them), it’s an easier alternative for girls to chuck their period pads in the surrounding bushes.

    The WASH project looks to mitigate these issues – but it isn’t the only GDPU initiative which advocates for the women and girls of Gulu…

    WAW Women

    We were introduced to the WAW (Women in Action for Women) ladies. The WAW ladies are all survivors of Joseph Kony’s Lord’s Resistance Army. To rebuild their lives following such a tragedy, they have been trained in tailoring and embroidery, with a view to starting their own businesses in the future. It was amazing to see these women at work: they were making a great start to their sewing entrepreneurship by sewing bespoke dresses. We were greeted with smiles and laughs. 

    

    This was a wonderful reminder of the strength and determination of these women, making real, tangible differences to their lives in the wake of utter hardship. They are true inspirations! 

    There was even an offer of a dress and a shirt for me and Alex, an offer we think we’ll accept! 

41. Empowering Girls Through Enhanced Health, Safety, and Confidence.

    8:28 am 3 Comments

    For millions of girls, the simple lack of a safe toilet or private hygiene space—Water, Sanitation, and Hygiene (WASH)—is a barrier that forces them to miss school or drop out entirely.

    Our work at Gulu Disabled Persons Union (GDPU) champions an integrated WASH program that is more than just infrastructure; it’s an empowering investment in human potential and a commitment to inclusive learning environment where every girlchild feel safe and confident to stay at school and achieve the very best of their potential.

     

    

    A Five Stance Latrine Constructed Fitted with an Incinerator and Changing Room along with Water Tank

     

    The most critical impact is through dedicated Menstrual Hygiene Management (MHM), ensuring girls can manage their periods with dignity. Our program guarantees this by facilitating the construction of drainable latrines fitted with changing rooms that include clean, safe water for use, providing a private sanctuary. To complete the MHM loop, the program also builds incinerators for the safe and discreet disposal of menstrual waste, ensuring girls never have to sacrifice their empowerment and education for a natural life process.

     

    

    Learners of Tochi Primary School Happily Displays their Hand Made Reusable Sanitary Pads after a Menstrual Health Hygiene and Management Training.

     

    Supported by the Advocacy Project, Our program’s power extends beyond menstrual hygiene management to enhance overall health and safety. The construction of well-maintained and secure facilities, paired with the provision of free liquid soap, significantly reduces the risk of infection and boosts girls’ self-esteem. Furthermore, we directly improves Health and Attendance by providing clean environments and conducting crucial malaria prevention and testing training, drastically reducing illness-related absences and empowering girls to remain healthy and focused in the classroom.

     

    

    Learner of Awach Central Primary School Lining Up to be Tested and Potentially Treated After Malaria Prevention and Testing Training.

     

    The long-term success of this program lies in sustainable “software” and profound community partnership. This involves specialized Menstrual Hygiene Training (MHT) and integrating WASH into life-skills education to instill lifelong habits. We envision a world where student-led WASH Clubs are actively engaging with the local community and parents in training and maintenance, we foster vital ownership and ensures the empowerment is enduring.

     

    

    Our Mission is Clear, Empower Learners to Feel Confident and Support Each other with WASH Related Issues within their Learning Space.

     

    In essence, our gender-responsive WASH program isn’t just about constructing toilets; it’s about demolishing the barriers to education. It ensures every girl can attend school comfortably, reach her full potential, and contribute to a healthier, more equitable future for us all. GDPU is fueling the next generation of female leaders—but who will answer the call for the millions of girls whose safe, dignified school day has yet to arrive?

42. Welcome to the real Pearl of Africa, GDPO!

    October 2, 2025 7:48 am 1 Comment

    After a long journey from the UK and a night in the capital, we found ourselves driving through the bustling streets of Kampala to the bus station. We passed numerous “freshers” posters advertising the university Freshers Ball.         

    

    Poster advertising the Fresher’s Ball.

    Our driver informed us we were passing Kampala University and the long queues of traffic we were sitting in were a result of new students moving in. It offered a unique reminder of home, where only recently I had graduated from my law degree. Having read up on Uganda’s colonial past, I was interested to see how this may have shaped its legal system. Of particular interest to me was how legislation impacted women and girls in Uganda. I am using my first blog to briefly discuss elements of this topic, which I will keep in mind during my stay, and subsequent blogs, in Uganda. 

    The court structures of Uganda and England & Wales are much the same: the lowest level of legislature being the Magistrate’s Court, ascending to the High Court, Court of Appeal and eventually the Supreme Court. Where it differs significantly is sources of law and their interpretation. As an ex-British colony, Uganda’s legal system is based on a blend of Common Law and customary law. Customary law only has grounding when it does not conflict statutory law. It’s complex! 

    But, what really piqued my interest is what this means for women and girls in practice. In March 2021, the Succession (Amendment) Bill was passed. This was a pivotal change in the law to tackle discrimination resulting from the historical practice of the law giving preference to males regarding inheritance and land ownership. The repercussions of this practice were wide-reaching. With no access to inheritance, and no income from land ownership, this left many women and girls vulnerable to violence. Further reformation was made in April 2021 with the Employment (Amendment) Bill. This required all employers to enact measures to prevent sexual harassment, abuse and violence in the workplace. 

    These provide just two examples of the gap in the law which facilitated the violence, abuse and ill-treatment many women and girls were subject to. Whilst the law has been reformed, there is still a long way to go to enable equal access to opportunities. This summer, I will frame my blogs around the girls’ experiences of school-life, and the individual challenges they are facing on the ground. This is where the fantastic work of GDPO comes in. 

     

    

    

    The GDPO Office

    This summer, we will be working with Emma and Joe. Have a read of Aaron Bailey’s blog to get a greater understanding of their essential roles in GDPO and the WASH project! However, from our short time in Gulu so far, their strength and determination to improve the lives of all students through WASH is blindingly obvious. 

    Our primary focus this summer will be on WASH – a community-based project involving local stakeholders (parents, students, teachers, local leaders etc) to help build accessible toilets in primary schools in areas surrounding Gulu, Northern Uganda. The project is essential to ensure all students have access to clean, accessible toilets whilst at school. Two groups where a direct correlation between access to such facilities and school attendance has been identified are students with disabilities and female students.  

    There are currently 7 primary schools who have directly benefited from WASH’s accessible toilets. All vary in the standard by which they are maintained: on school visits, GDPO staff have observed buildings in a state of disrepair, mosquito infested toilets, or no available handwashing facilities. Conversely, other schools maintain a cleaning rota and ensure students always have access to soap and emergency sanitary items if needed. After identifying these disparities, GDPO recently developed a monitoring and evaluation strategy to unify the experience students will have in accessing WASH facilities across all 7 schools. The monitoring and evaluation tool is two-fold: it will enforce similar standards across all schools whilst also acting as a reliable data set to reach out to local NGOs working on projects similar to WASH. This way, GDPO can hopefully transplant its WASH model to more schools and communities in the future. 

    This coming week we finish our final visits to schools, completing the September monitoring and evaluation. We are continually reviewing and streamlining this process to show partners how effective this tool really is. 

     

    We’re really looking forward to the weeks ahead of us working with Emma, Joe, and the rest of the team at GDPO! 

     

    

    

    Meeting two amazing people (Peace Fellow Alex McDermott left, Ojara Denis middle and Okwanga Charles right) who are enthusiastic contributors to GDPO’s active sports programme! Both play national-level wheelchair basketball. Here, they are resurfacing the basketball court.

43. Seeds of Revolution

    October 1, 2025 10:32 am Leave a Comment

    As I get ready to leave Nepal, I have been reflecting on the work we’ve done this summer and all that I have learned. There is much to think about, but what I find myself continually coming back to are memories of all of the incredible people I have met. I couldn’t possibly capture them all, but want to take the opportunity in my last blog to share just a few moments that I will carry with me.

    _____

    We sat on the porch of the Thakurbaba Municipality Medical Center talking with three of the psychosocial counselors. One of the women, Laxmi Chaudhary held her three-month old son. His head was tilted back, eyes shut, chest rising and falling with the soft breaths of sleep. She rocked him slowly as she sat, tapping gently. As she rocked, she told us about her brother, Shiriram Tharu, who was abducted and killed by Maoists in 2002. He was 22 years old and had two children. Laxmi raised his children along with some of her other siblings. Now she works with the counseling center providing support to other conflict victims. She and the other counselors, also victims and survivors of the conflict, often go door to door to meet with people in their homes and listen to their stories. We talked for some time before the heat began to take a toll and they needed to return to work, but as we closed our notebooks and began to pack our things, Laxmi stopped us. “Thank you for speaking with us,” she said. “We are always the ones talking to others, listening to others, but mostly, we don’t have anyone to hear our story.”

    _____

    “Namaste,” I smile and clasp my hands together. I’m walking to Ram’s house and his neighbor, Sunder Oli, who runs a shop across the street has said hello to me. I’ve visited his place a few times with Ram to sit and sip tea and had the privilege of spending one afternoon listening to his story. “The world is a global village,” he had said at the end of our conversation, “the transformation of society is everyone’s responsibility.” Now he’s a familiar face at some of the events I attend with Ram and in the neighborhood. Our greeting this morning feels like an acknowledgement of the small connection we have made.

    

    Ram and I drinking tea with Sunder (far left) along with some neighbors

    _____

    I joined the women sitting on the step. Giri, the owner of the Budhanilkantha guesthouse I was staying in, had invited me to celebrate Teej with his family. Dusk had arrived along with a slight breeze and the patio was lit with the warm glow of small overhead lights. The group of women, Giri’s daughters and some of their friends, took turns dancing and resting on the step. Their children were playing in the kitchen, which was open to the patio, and occasionally one would come out and join the dancing. I clapped along to the music as I sat, watching as others danced. Then a new song came on and Laxmi, Giri’s wife, grabbed my hands. Pulling me up, she brought me into the group and held my hands, guiding me to the music. We moved around in a circle, inwards and outwards, clapping and moving our hands and hips to the rhythm. I awkwardly did my best to keep up and couldn’t help but catch their joy, laughing as Laxmi spun me around and around.

    _____

    I sat across from Ram’s mother at the dinner table. There was small conversation, but with the language barrier there is very little she and I can say to one another. Our interactions typically consist instead of smiles, pointing, and head nods. She watched me eat and as I took a sip of water, she said “pani,” pointing to her glass. “Pani,” I repeated, pointing to mine. She nodded. “Chamal,” she pointed to the rice. I repeated. The other women at the table joined in, helping me learn. “Tarkari,” she held up a potato from the vegetable curry. “Tarkari,” I repeated, adding, “mitho!” She laughed, her face crinkling with delight.

    

    Ram’s mother, Laxmi Bhandari

    _____

    Isha grabbed my hand, pulling me up from the table where we had been playing cards. She found a rock and Bhawani marked four boxes in the pavement. Then I watched as they showed me how to play. On one foot Isha hopped in place and kicked the rock into the first box, then the second. She fell, giggling. It was Bhawani’s turn. “It can’t land on the line,” she explained. The air was crisp and our skin warm from the sun, the forest just in front of us alive with the chirps and chatter of birds. Isha’s mom and baby sister sat on a bench nearby. They had all come to forest camp, the first stop for Bhawani and me on our trek, to visit Isha’s father for Dashain. It was my turn. I got my balance on one foot, hopped a few times to orient myself and attempted to gently kick the rock. It flew out of bounds. Isha tumbled over in laughter, her little pigtails shaking as she giggled. We played again and again, taking turns. Bhawani was clearly a master and, to Isha’s delight, I slowly got better. Eventually we grew tired and sat on the ground for a game of jacks. Then, as the day faded and the air grew cooler, we moved inside for more cards.

    

    Isha and I on a swing at Forest Camp

    _____

    There are many more stories to tell — nights spent surrounded by Ram’s family, playing with his little niece and nephew; victim panels and roundtables I had the privilege of sitting in on; strangers who have stopped to say hello and ask where I’m from; afternoons sitting at Coffee Talk with Niraj; a dinner turned into late night chat with Uddhab and his wife as we waited out the rain; long walks, endless conversations, and words of wisdom from Ram; and the invitations from Manju and Ram’s sister to feel “like a daughter.”

    I am reminded of our conversation with Prem. Some of these interactions were brief, our connection fleeting as we passed through each other’s lives, while others are relationships that will hopefully be sustained a lifetime. But even for those who I might never meet again, a small part of them — of their story, their generosity, their care — will be carried with me forever. And it is in these moments, however mundane, that, as Prem said, our humanity, our mutuality, is clear.

    _____

    We are sitting outside at The Chiya Spot drinking tea. There are red flakes in the glass and Ram points to them. “Seeds of revolution,” he says, and Niraj and I laugh. If there is anything I have learned from Ram it is that relationships are everything. We could go anywhere in Nepal and there would be people whose homes he’d visit, someone he’d have to meet for tea, a meeting to attend. To an outsider a peace process might consist of truth commissions, trials, exhumations, reparations, or other formal processes. But in Nepal, on the ground, peace and justice begin with relationships. They are initiated by the people all across the country that have supported one another, grieved together, listened to one another’s stories, organized themselves, formed groups and started memorialization parks and campaigns, that together have transformed themselves, as Ram says, “from victims into social leaders.” These relationships are the true “seeds of revolution.”

44. Landing in Gulu – sun, safari, and (exploding) showers!

    10:26 am 1 Comment

    Landing in Gulu – sun, safari, and (exploding) showers!

    I’ve just arrived in Gulu, northern Uganda, to spend six weeks working on a Water, Sanitation, and Hygiene (WASH) project. The project involves a partnership between AP and the Gulu Disabled Persons Organisation, which has seen accessible toilets and changing rooms built across seven primary schools since 2015. This is work we can all be proud of – but what’s next?

    I’ve got limited (successful) experience of humanitarian work, but starting projects in Malawi and South Africa has given me a notebook full of lessons and an understanding of some common pitfalls.

    In Malawi, I’d established ‘Educate Africa’, a platform to raise funds for the Good Hope Primary School in Lilongwe. At first glance, it felt like we were affecting some positive change. Between 2016 and 2023, ‘Educate Africa’ raised £30,000; created opportunities for 11 students in my British secondary school to experience leading the project; and visited the Good Hope School itself three times. We built a classroom, toilets, a perimeter wall around the school, and helped fund a new breakfast programme. But the 13-year-old who came up with the project’s name (!) clearly lacked any PR training, and looking back, some of the money we raised seemed to disappear to ill-defined timelines and poor supervision.

    Eight years later – then in my final year of university – I came to Africa again. This time I was based in Knysna, South Africa, as a Lord Laidlaw Scholar. I’d been given £6,000 and five weeks to support the development of ‘Growing Green Minds’ – a project by the fantastic Knysna Education Trust, which piloted an eco-curriculum across primary schools in the local township.

    Engaging with a multitude of stakeholders – Rotary Clubs; local government; schools; and other grassroots NGOs – gave the impression things were moving in the right direction. But, as I found out, intuition is a poor guide for effective altruism. Unsurprisingly, humanitarian super-brain Dr William MacAskill had already identified this as the trap I fell into, in his book Doing Good Better.

    Indeed, I started basing the eco-curriculum around my idea of a target audience, my idea of resource constraints, and my idea of the developmental milestones which my curriculum needed to hit. However, I quickly realised that whilst some time needed to be spent working from a desk, the school’s contexts and challenges (which the curriculum would be written around) could only be fully understood by being on the ground. So it was no surprise that when I presented my first plan to the Knysna Education Trust staff, it came back covered in red pen and signs of a very rushed fact-finding period. As the old Army adage elegantly puts it, “time spent in planning is rarely wasted, time spent in reconnaissance is never wasted”.

    But whilst I knew that sun, safaris, and a strong course of antimalarials were waiting for me in Gulu, so too was a long list of hard-won lessons on effective altruism. The first of which involved wrapping my head around the concept of Monitoring and Evaluation.

    

    In Gulu: sun, safari, and (exploding) showers.

    Monitoring and Evaluation (M&E) is the recipe for successful and sustainable projects: a process used by charities, militaries, and governments worldwide. Put simply, M&E assesses the design, implementation, and results of a certain plan or policy, to assess its effectiveness – more technical information can be read here.

    The Gulu Disabled Persons Organisation (GDPO) – whose team I will be joining for the next five weeks – have recently drawn up their own model of M&E. Team Manager Emma, Joe, and 2025 Peace Fellow Aaron (who’s excellent blogs you can read here) have designed a robust system using Google Forms, which I will be supporting the delivery of. The aim is to check if the WASH facilities recently built by GDPO – toilets; changing rooms; water tanks; and provisions of liquid soap – are still operational.

    GDPO and AP have invested over $79,500; 11 Fellows; and ten years of work into the development of WASH. But – as my experiences in Malawi and South Africa suggested – it’s not worth committing more resources to a failing project. M&E protects all that is good about charitable initiatives, and ensures that our valuable resources – stretched ever-thinner by USAID cuts – keep going to the right places.

    As in Malawi and South Africa, I’m sure I’ll learn many more lessons about Doing Good Better in Gulu. But with a solid M&E system in place, I can hope to avoid the most embarrassing ones.

     

45. The Mountains are Always Ahead

    September 21, 2025 3:19 am 1 Comment

    The streets, empty just a week ago, have resumed their normal activity. Shops are open, traffic is thick, the music of the city has commenced again at once. “It’s kind of like nothing happened,” Niraj said to me. I felt it, too — a sense of normalcy seems to have returned almost as quickly as it left. It’s a misleading feeling and a privilege enjoyed only by outsiders like me and those who were less affected.

     

    

    An empty street in Patan Friday 12 September

     

    But even for as normal as it sometimes feels to me, there are reminders that it is not. I walked home from a meeting with Ram and Niraj at Coffee Talk last Sunday, taking the long way down Tanka Prasad Ghumti Sadak. I passed by Singha Durbar, the gate only part way open and security forces guarding the entrance. But even with a partial view I could still see the damage. I stopped at the Supreme Court, joining others who were peering through the fence at blackened walls and broken windows. Car skeletons were piled up in the parking lot next to tents propped up as makeshift courtrooms. A group of attorneys in suits and ties seemed out of place. It took me a while to recognize the cafeteria where I had eaten with Ram and Niraj just a few weeks ago — we had been celebrating the victim movement’s mass petition finally being registered.

     

    

    Tents set up outside of the Supreme Court

     

    I continued my walk past the Bar Association and Ministry of Health, the Nepal Government Employees Organization, the Department of Roads, all with broken windows and damage from fire. I was one of many walking from building to building, wide-eyed, staring, taking pictures, talking in small groups, attempting to process. One man I spoke to could only shake his head and say, “this is really bad.” As shocking as it all is for me to see, these are the buildings meant to serve them, their country, their home.

     

    

    The Department of Roads

     

    While the physical destruction is a jarring reminder of all that went down last week, it comes nowhere close to capturing the true scale of loss. The death toll, now at 72, continues to rise. Most of these are youth. They were sons and daughters and siblings, students working for their and their family’s future. Many were from villages outside of Kathmandu who had come to the city to study, who as children had experienced the armed conflict, had witnessed first-hand the violence and loss, who believed at some point in the promise of democracy, and were angry that they had been betrayed.

    There are others still missing. Mothers in remote villages that have not heard from their children. Bodies in hospitals unidentified.

    And, as Zeudi Liew reminds us in her blog, many of these students were killed by firearm. Security forces shot them, not in the legs, but the head, the chest, the throat.

    Dashain and Tihar are just around the corner and many families are heading into the festival season without their loved ones. For them there is no normalcy.

    “We cannot forget,” Ram repeats. We are talking about how quickly life in Kathmandu has resumed and he acknowledges that it is important to continue moving forward, but that we cannot move on. No family will forget, and the larger society must not either. Ram and I are on the same page — we are referring both to recent events and the longer history of violence, oppression, and resistance. For the past several decades Ram and thousands of others have entered festival season without their loved ones. The country must remember the students killed in these recent protests as well as all of those martyred and disappeared during the People’s War.

    But it will take more than memory. All of the questions and demands raised by the victim movement for the past 20 years now seem more urgent than ever.

    Ram says that Nepal has seen a kind of “detransition” over the last two decades, away from the representative democracy promised by the CPA and towards kleptocracy and elite-led politics that resemble those that preceded the jana andolan. The current crisis has halted this detransition. And now the country must choose what direction to go in. Unless victims and survivors are active participants in the process, it seems unlikely that things will move forward.

    But even then, these are big questions to tackle. How to heal? How to repair? How to transform?

    In another one of our conversations on the topic, Ram was reminded of something he wrote many years ago: “In Nepal, the road is long and hard, but the mountains are always ahead.”

    That is exactly where we are headed this week, for some much needed reflection, discussion, and peace. Our work is often done in walking meetings anyway.

46. No Future without Victims and Survivors

    September 11, 2025 5:05 am 3 Comments

    In my first blog I described the liveliness of Kathmandu, noting the “miraculous ballet of cars, bikes, and people moving ceaselessly down every alley, colorful shops, distant honks or dog barks, and smell of incense and gasoline.” But today the roads lack their normal stream of traffic, replaced instead by military vehicles and personnel. An eerie quiet has taken hold. There’s graffiti and trash, charred government buildings, air still thick with smoke; the city’s vibrancy replaced by destruction, despair, and uncertainty.

    Student protests began peacefully on Monday morning in Kathmandu. But by that afternoon, violent clashes with security forces that fired live ammunition, rubber bullets, tear gas, and water cannons into the crowd had killed over a dozen young people and left hundreds injured.

    Unrest continued into Tuesday as protesters targeted government buildings and the homes of top political officials, setting Parliament and the Supreme Court on fire and forcing Prime Minister Oli to resign.

    The protests are a result of a deep frustration that has been growing among young people about government corruption and impunity, and economic inequality. A recent social media trend among Nepali youth is indicative — videos tagged with #nepokids depicting the luxurious lifestyles of the children of Nepal’s political elite paired with clips meant to represent the everyday struggles of ordinary Nepalis have been going viral. The social media ban enacted by government last week was seen as an attempt at political censorship and ignited the festering discontent.

    After nearly 250 years of monarchy, an attempt at a democratic system in 1951, reversion back to autocracy, and 10-year civil war, Nepal became a democratic republic in 2008. Gen-z, born during this period of emerging democracy, was promised a new Nepal.

    Yet, since the passage of a new constitution in 2015, the same three leaders, all presidents of their respective political parties, have rotated as the head of government (KP Sharma Oli of CPN-UML, Pushpa Kamal Dahal of CPN-MC, and Sher Bahadur Deuba of Nepali Congress), their leadership characterized by rampant corruption and opaque political maneuvering. Along with the ongoing impunity with which security forces continue to operate and worsening social and economic inequality, this has left youth with a deep sense of injustice, their promise of a new Nepal betrayed.

    From the many conversations I’ve had with victims and survivors, I can’t help but see a connection between the current discontent and that which fueled the People’s Revolution three decades ago; between the government’s sidelining of victims and their neglect of the general public’s demands.

    In some respects it seems like so far nothing has changed: top leaders remain primarily invested in protecting their own interests rather than those of the people.

    As youth leaders head into further dialogue with the army and President Paudel, uncertainty grips the public. The proposal of Former Chief Justice Sushila Karki as interim prime minister and potential for new elections is hopeful. But, many fear, as Ram put it, that the country is headed into “a long dark tunnel.”

    At these crossroads, I think it is important to remember that for the past two decades, victims and survivors have been demanding acknowledgement of and accountability for the atrocities that occurred during armed conflict, for truth, and for true social transformation that addresses the inequality and injustice at the root of the conflict. The current outrage and violence is, in part, a product of the fact that their demands have gone unheeded.

    With the current political vacuum, there is an opportunity for real change. But justice and equality will not be possible unless victims and survivors are seen as relevant stakeholders in the process, their demands for reckoning with the past, accountability, truth, and transformation taken seriously. As one victim leader told me in January, “the victims’ agenda is not just for the victims, but for the benefit of society as a whole.”

47. Memory, Resistance, and the Long Struggle: Victims Host Candlelight Vigil in Honor of the Disappeared

    September 8, 2025 2:25 am Leave a Comment

    30 August; Kathmandu

    Around 5pm, people started to gather. They greeted one another — hands clasped, a pat on the back, a nod. They sat on the curb and stood in the street. Some laughed, others yelled out, two women stood to the side sharing quiet conversation. The mood was difficult to pick up on — there was the joy and casualness of a typical Saturday evening, but also a kind of solemnity.

    Several people grabbed what first appeared to be a tarp and began stretching it out across the road. They pointed and gave directions and others joined, raising it up with a pole underneath and pulling ropes at the corners to a tree, light pole, and metal bars of a truck. The fabric rose, revealing a beautiful orange and yellow interior. As more people arrived, a small group started drawing out numbers in chalk underneath the tent — 1,350+. And, as others unveiled a long train of paper, gathering the group into a circle, they lined the chalk numbers with small candles.

    

    There were around 50 people now, clustered around the outside edge of the tent, their feet making a circle around the 1,350+. They were nearly ready to start. The air was cool, and the rain held off.

    Safety pins and white printer paper hosting demands like “Abolish the commissions formed and controlled by political factions” and “Make the status of missing citizens public” were pinned on shirts. Ram grabbed a microphone. The group quieted and he began, “Thank you all for gathering today in honor of August 30, the International Day of the Disappeared.”

    “We are also using today as a boycott campaign of the commissions,” he explained. “Therefore, we would like to welcome and thank all those who are participating, including family members, human rights organizations, civil society, and media workers.” He continued, “We are asking questions, and the government is not answering. The state has not been held accountable and has acted dishonestly and deceitfully in the issues raised by the victims.” He touched on the long history of their movement represented in the papers participants held up, reiterated the need for justice for the disappeared, and thanked everyone again before handing the mic to Suman Adhikari.

    Friends for the last decade, Suman and Ram met in 2010. Suman’s father was killed by Maoists during the conflict and together he and Ram brought together victims from both sides through the Conflict Victims Common Platform, an initiative they started in 2014. His presence at today’s event is a testament to not only their friendship, but the powerful, cross-boundary alliances that Nepali victims have formed.

    In his speech, Suman emphasized that every step in the state led process has been taken without the consultation and participation of victims — a cruel injustice and indication that the government does not intend to realize justice, but rather to protect their own political interests.

    When he finished, the mic continued to make its rounds. Human rights advocate Indra Aryal criticized the state’s ongoing betrayal of victims after their decades long struggle for justice; former NHRC commissioner Mohna Ansari spoke about the disingenuous approach top political leaders have always taken to human rights; activist and former chair of Amnesty International Nepal Charan Prasai emphasized the need for a victim-led civil commission. At one point, a Pakistani activist took the mic. Drawing connections between the struggle of Nepali victims and citizens of other Asian countries, she emphasized “we live for the day of a just and lasting peace.” “My heart is also with Gaza,” she added. “With the thousands who have suffered there, the thousands that have died there, and thousands that are suffering today from famine.” In an expression of solidarity she ended, “I give you courage from my country and take courage from yours.”

    In all of the speeches, the significance of this Saturday was clear. It was a moment that called upon the community to not only look backwards and remember the disappeared and decades long fight for justice, but to look forward — to mobilize, determine the way, and call to action.

    Pulled around the circle of people was a red string hosting papers and images — all 70 pages of the petition victims submitted to the Supreme Court in August, a joint statement released by international human rights organizations, news articles, press statements and position papers spanning the last two decades, a letter to the Prime Minister, and the photographs of family members disappeared by the state. Like the speakers, the papers told a story about the past, and of the future: victims have spent the last two decades fighting for justice, for those that were disappeared, and they will not settle for anything less.

    Matches taped to the end of small rods were lit and, crouching down, people began to light the candles of 1,350+ disappeared. As the rods were passed around, little flames went up, flickered out in the wind, and rose again. The day was fading, and a soft orange glow took hold.

    As I watched I couldn’t help but reflect on what it takes to remember. In resistance to the erasure of a disappearance and state silence, a candle is lit again and again. It’s a collective effort, the match passed around from person to person. And, in the end, a larger story is illuminated.

    

    Family members, civil society leaders, activists, and community members light candles in honor of the 1,350+ disappeared on August 30

48. Meeting Mai Thi Loi

    September 6, 2025 12:01 am 1 Comment

    It takes two weeks of paperwork for AEPD’s visit to Mai Thi Loi to be approved. My passport has been stamped, signed, notarized in a fluorescent-lit office and handed from desk to desk. The road into the commune is two and a half hours of driving through thick green hills. By the time we arrive, the afternoon light is soft, hazy. 

    We meet Loi outside her house, a small structure perched at the top of a hill with a patched metal roof and sturdy concrete walls. Loi takes us inside, and we gather around a low table. Mai makes the introductions, and I take a seat beside Loi. Two of her sons, Hung and Cuong, are nearby, both perched on two beds near the back of the room. Their eldest brother, Kien, is not here. 

     

    

    Mai Thi Loi

     

    Loi’s husband, Nguyen Van Tri, served in the army between 1972 and 1976 and was certified as an Agent Orange victim before he died in 1989. No one knows how or when he was exposed, only that when he came home, he was already ill with symptoms of Agent Orange poisoning. Loi’s five children were born as second-generation victims of Agent Orange. Her two older daughters have mild intellectual disabilities and are married with families of their own. Her three sons have severe physical and intellectual disabilities, along with chronic health issues and severe mental illness. All three have recurring violent episodes, especially the eldest Kien, who has been chained since adolescence due to his extremely violent outbursts. Loi, now sixty-six, is unable to manage the violence. 

    Her voice thins when she begins to speak of Kien. She covers her face with both hands, tears sliding between her fingers and pooling in her palms. “He is usually chained and naked,” Mai translates softly. “He tears his clothes off when she tries to dress him.” Loi’s shoulders shake as she cries, her whole body folding in on itself as though trying to swallow the emotions. Lưu leans forward and rests a hand on Loi’s back. We all sit with her like this for a while.

    Care, for Loi, is not abstract but daily and embodied. It is the rhythm of waking early, of scrubbing six sets of clothes by hand, of feeding her three sons one after the other. It is traveling thirty-seven kilometers to the city hospital each month for health checkups. Even though her sons can be violent, Loi refuses to send them to the Agent Orange social center in the city. When she asked what they wanted, they told her they wished to stay with their mother. She cannot bring herself to separate from them. The center is far away, and she worries she could not afford the trips to visit. Mai explains that Loi feels a deep responsibility to care for all her children herself, especially those with the most severe conditions like Kien. As Loi speaks, tears stream down her face once again. “After I pass,” she says between breaths, “then the social center can take them.”

    Iain, AP’s director, has said that families like Loi’s are why the Agent Orange Livelihood Sponsorship program exists at all; why AEPD continues to return, year after year. Loi was one of the first beneficiaries of the program. In 2016, AP and AEPD raised $1,200 to provide her with a breeding buffalo, meant to generate steady income. The buffalo became a significant source of income. She even shared it with a neighbor to earn a little more, until it died from illness. Now that Loi is older and weaker, she can no longer raise a buffalo or tend the fields. And yet, Loi tells us again and again that the sponsorship mattered. It has kept her children fed and medicated, greatly improving the mental health of her two younger sons. This has given her a measure of hope.

    Before we leave, we ask to take a photo of the family together. By the time we step back outside, the light has shifted. Somewhere down the hill, a motorbike sputters awake. I follow Mai and Lưu back down the slope, and the house becomes smaller behind us until it disappears into the trees.

     

    

    From left to right: Hung, Cuong, and Loi. (This visit has fewer photos, as much of the conversation was deeply emotional. We chose to set the camera aside and simply listen.)  

     

    It would be tempting to imagine a clean solution, one that would ‘fix’ the damage wrought by the U.S. war in Vietnam. But Agent Orange’s legacy is not a problem to be solved once and for all with a single aid package. Victims of Agent Orange and their caregivers continue to live with the lifelong, intergenerational, and environmental effects of the war. Long-term reparations matter; yet this year, the U.S. government withdrew all funding for Agent Orange relief and support for war legacies in Vietnam. This withdrawal is not an abstraction: it ripples through the lives of countless Agent Orange-affected families, already stretched thin, leaving them to shoulder the costs of a war they did not choose, did not wage, and in many cases were not even alive to witness.

49. Meeting Nguyen Doan Phuc

    September 4, 2025 7:45 pm 1 Comment

    It is hot by the time we reach the Phucs’ home. The road winds slightly uphill, taking us away from the busier center of the commune. At the top, their house opens into a courtyard, shaded and still. Two dogs lift their heads as we approach, and then quickly lose interest, letting us pass. Chickens scatter at our feet.

    

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    Mai and Minh, my colleagues from AEPD, call out a greeting, and Mr. and Mrs. Phuc emerge from the doorway. They smile and wave us in, pulling up chairs around a low table. Someone sets out cups of tea.

    The first half-hour is slow and unhurried. Mai and Minh talk with the couple in Vietnamese: casual questions, neighbors’ news, small jokes that make everyone laugh. I can’t follow most of the conversation, but I can feel the rhythm of it: a cadence of growing comfort.

    Mrs. Phuc laughs easily, her floral shirt bright against the wooden chair, her teeth flashing in the afternoon light. Mr. Phuc listens quietly, smiling when she teases him. The dogs bark occasionally from the yard until Mrs. Phuc shushes them and they trot off obediently.

    

    When Mai gently asks if Mr. Phuc could share his story, he nods and begins. His voice is steady, not theatrical, as though telling something that has been told many times. He describes where he was during the war, how he was exposed to Agent Orange, and the illnesses that followed. He talks about his daughter, how she was born with severe disabilities, how she has dealt with chronic illness all her life.

    As he speaks, I think of the broader history that threads through this family’s life. Agent Orange, a defoliant sprayed by the U.S. military across millions of acres during the war, continues to poison soil and water in Vietnam decades later. It has also left a legacy of intergenerational harm. Children and grandchildren of those exposed are often born with congenital disabilities and chronic illness.

    

    In the U.S., veterans fought a long, bitter battle to get even partial acknowledgment of these effects. It took years of litigation against the chemical companies that produced Agent Orange before a handful of illnesses were recognized as connected, and even then, compensation was limited. Victims in Vietnam, like Mr. Phuc, have never received reparations from the U.S. government. And the only form of reparations for the war, the USAID War Legacies Program, was halted under the Trump administration.

    When the story turns toward the present, Mr. Phuc tells us about the cow they once raised. The cow was provided through by AP and AEPD through their livelihood sponsorship project, an effort to generate sustainable income for families living with the effects of Agent Orange. For a few years, it worked well for the family. But as Mr. and Mrs. Phuc got older, and as their daughter’s needs became more demanding, caring for the cow became too much.

    They decided to sell it and use the money to raise chickens instead. Mr. Phuc gestures toward the yard where several chickens roam. They are smaller, quieter, easier to care for. The couple earns less money now, but they seem at peace with the trade-off. “It’s enough,” Mai translates.

    

    When Mai asks about their daily life, Mrs. Phuc becomes animated. She describes her morning routine: rising early to sweep the yard, cook breakfast for her husband and daughter, prepare food for the dogs and chickens. She lists the tasks matter-of-factly: bathing and dressing her daughter, cleaning the bed, cooking lunch, washing dishes, tending the animals, sweeping again. As she speaks, I picture her moving through these rooms, her day a cycle of care. She tells me this with a wide, toothy grin. She does not present the work as a burden, though I know it must be tiring.

    It’s not lost on me that caregiving often manifests along gendered lines in these visits. It is Mrs. Phúc who wakes early to sweep the yard, who mixes the rice porridge, feeds the chickens and dogs, bathes her daughter, dresses her, tends to the smallest tasks and the constant ones.  Watching her, I think of Mobilizing Morality, a study of caregivers in Vietnam, where women speak not of burden but of trách nhiệm, tình cảm, and lòng hiếu thảo (responsibility, affection, filial duty). In Mrs. Phúc, I see caregiving with warmth, with a kind of acceptance, embedded in the texture of everyday life. It makes me question what caregiving might mean in other settings, how relational care and interdependence could be more valued, more visible.

    

    At some point, we rise and follow Mr. and Mrs. Phuc back into the house, where they wish to introduce their daughter. She is lying on a wooden bed under a blue mosquito net. The light is dim, cool, a relief from the heat outside. She looks up at us and smiles, her mouth opening wide.

    Mrs. Phuc sits on the bed beside her, holding her hand as she introduces her to us. Mr. Phuc stands at the foot of the bed, listening quietly. They speak to her in Vietnamese — their voices soft, warm — and her smile widens.

    Afterward, Mrs. Phuc takes me through the rest of the home. She shows me the kitchen, proudly pointing out the jars of pickled vegetables lined up on the counter, the pots on the stove, the glass-front cabinet neatly filled with dishes. She gestures toward a make-shift hammock next to the bed and urges me to try it.

    The dogs follow us in and out of rooms. She scolds them when they bark, but her voice is fond. It is clear that she loves them, just as she loves the chickens, the plants, the house. Everything here feels tended to, even the smallest corner.

    

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    Before we leave, I ask if we might take a photo of the family together. They agree. We walk back to the bedroom, where their daughter is still lying. Mrs. Phuc leans over her and begins adjusting her blouse, smoothing the wrinkles with her hand. She murmurs something, low and rhythmic, as if just for her daughter. Her daughter laughs, her grin stretching across her face.

    It is such an ordinary gesture, but I find myself holding my breath as I watch. This is a kind of love that does not need an audience, a camera, a visitor from far away. It is the love that sustains this house every single day.

    As we leave, I think about everything they have told me: the history of the war, the cow they once kept, the roof they hope to repair, the chickens roaming the yard. I think about Mrs. Phuc’s hands smoothing her daughter’s shirt, the softness of that gesture.

    It is tempting to turn this into a story about resilience, about the triumph of the human spirit. But that feels too tidy. Their lives are ongoing. They do not end when I walk away. There will still be chickens to feed, a daughter to care for, a roof to fix before the next flood.

    For a few hours, I was allowed to sit with them, get to know them, and hear their stories. This, I hold close to my chest.

    

50. A Visit with the Ngô Family

    August 30, 2025 10:31 pm Leave a Comment

    The table in front of Ngô Gia Huệ’s home is crowded with tea cups, soda cans, and a porcelain kettle painted in blue. Above us, strips of red, yellow, and green fabric hang loosely from the roof, filtering the sunlight into soft color. Minh is the first to sit down. He worked with AEPD as an outreach worker for many years and first met the Ngô family in 2017. Now, he has returned from retirement to join us. I had only met him that morning, but I begin to see him through the family’s eyes, through the warmth of recognition.

    As soon as we arrive, Huệ greets Minh with both hands. They clasp each other tightly, leaning in with warmth. Huệ’s eldest daughter hurries forward and throws her arms around him. She holds his hand and doesn’t let go, smiling wide, while Minh laughs in his boisterous, easy way. The scene feels more like a reunion than a scheduled monitoring and evaluation visit.

     

    

    Left to right: Minh, Eldest Daughter, Hue’s wife, & Hue

     

    I watch, trying to situate myself. From my experience in the U.S., professionalism tends to keep warmth and intimacy at a distance. Boundaries are emphasized. Here, the lines are softer. The relationship between outreach worker and family is not diminished by care, but shaped by it. Minh is trusted and welcomed in ways that surprise me. As both visitor and observer, I take this with gratitude – the chance to witness a different way of building relationships and community.

    We gather around the table, cups filled. Huệ begins to tell his story. He was exposed to Agent Orange while stationed in Quảng Trị during the war, and his body has carried the consequences since. His left leg is paralyzed, his health unsteady.

    His three daughters, now middle-aged, are all second-generation victims of Agent Orange. The eldest, along with Toan and Naan, live with moderate intellectual and physical disabilities, as well as mental health challenges. Huệ explains that they sometimes have violent episodes, which have become especially difficult for him and his wife to manage as they grow older.

    

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    At the table, Toan fidgets with a toy backpack, pointing to a fraying strap and nudging it toward her mother. Naan, the youngest, lies on a bed just behind us. She glances up now and then, then drifts back into her play, disinterested in the conversation. Her father tells us about her intestinal condition, which requires frequent hospital visits for enemas and other treatments. She cannot move on her own and needs constant care. All three daughters still menstruate each month, and Toan, Huệ explains, is unable to eat when she has her period. 

    

    As Huệ speaks, his wife sits beside him, listening, occasionally adding a word. Together, they describe the daily rituals of caring for three daughters with such needs while aging themselves. There are moments of strain, even violence, when the girls act out. “We try to overcome it together,” Huệ says simply.

    When the family first received support from AP and AEPD in 2017, Minh sat down with them to co-design a livelihood plan. The typical model is to raise a cow or buffalo, animals that can generate income through breeding or labor. But for Huệ and his wife, who are elderly and caring for their daughters full time, that model would not have been sustainable or suitable.

    Instead, they chose to raise pigeons and chickens, smaller animals that could be managed within the rhythms of the household. The income is modest, around 600,000 VND per month ($24), but the family describes it as meaningful and appropriate to their circumstances. It supplements their needs without overwhelming their capacity.

    After we finish talking, Huệ stands and beckons us to the back of the house. The yard comes alive with noise. Chickens scatter at our feet, clucking loudly, while pigeons beat their wings against the wooden slats of the loft above. There are so many birds that the space feels restless with motion.

    Huệ shows us the cages and crates he has built by hand. Plastic baskets and scraps of wood are repurposed into nesting boxes. Eggs are laid carefully in the corners, cushioned with dried corn husks. In one blue basket, a hen sits firmly on her clutch, her sharp eyes following our every move. Nothing here is wasted; every material is bent toward use, toward survival. As Huệ talks about raising pigeons, what comes through is not pride in scale but in fit. These small creatures match the family’s capacity and provide a livelihood they can manage.

    

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    As we prepare to leave, Huệ’s wife urges us to stay for lunch. The table is already set with rice and vegetables, the dishes waiting to be uncovered. We explain, reluctantly, that the schedule will not allow it. She nods, smiling politely, but lingers in the doorway as we go. I think about the meal we didn’t share, and about how hospitality, like caregiving, repeats itself every day, whether or not there is someone there to witness it.

    

    AEPD outreach worker Minh heading to the Ngô family backyard

51. Meeting Mrs. Hue

    August 24, 2025 3:33 am Leave a Comment

    Dương Thị Huề is waiting for us by the roadside in a pink shirt and patterned green trousers, her graying hair pulled into a bun. As the car slows, Mai leans out the window to greet her. Huề smiles, gums showing, then without a word mounts a pink bicycle and sets off ahead of us. From the back seat I watch her small figure move steadily down the road, pedaling with ease. My gaze shifts between the Buddha ornament swaying on the dashboard and Huề’s back, her motion even, unhurried.

    

    The house appears after the bend. Chickens scatter at the motion of her hand as we climb the steps. Inside, the living room opens wide, the summer air close on our skin. Against the wall a cabinet holds silk flowers, portraits of her children, and a television. The room feels both austere and lived-in. Huề sets out tea and we sit together at the wooden table.

    

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    Huề is seventy-one. She was exposed to Agent Orange during her service in Quảng Trị. Of her eight children, four are affected: three daughters and one son. One daughter has passed from complications due to Agent Orange; two live in a social care center. Her son remains nearby, living with severe mental illness and now kidney failure. 

    For many years, Huề lived with her son together in their old house. His illness was unpredictable. Sometimes he was quiet, but oftentimes he was violent. During his violent episodes, she would sometimes chain him to the wall. She spoke of it as she might any other domestic task, not to dramatize but to account for how she managed. As she grew older, she no longer had the capacity to restrain him; there was little else she could do. 

    

    The new house, built with support from AP and from a son working abroad, has changed her days. She lives alone now. Her son stays in the old house. Each morning she cycles to him with food. Often, she admits, he is still violent. She could send him to the center, but she says she wants to care for him herself, while she can. Then her voice drops: she is older now, and less strong. She does not know how much longer this will last. She tells us the support from AP and AEPD has been significant. The house gives her safety, and with it the possibility to continue caring for her son on her own terms.

    Huề takes us to see her old house, a short bicycle ride away. Her son is not there when we arrive; he has likely gone out to cut grass for the cow. Mai and Minh tell me that the last time AEPD staff visited, he turned violent and hurled something at the outreach worker, resulting in a concussion and forehead injury. At the doorway, I notice the bolts on the frame, metal slid heavy against wood.

    

    A cow rests in the yard, its calf tied beside it. Huề shows them to us, then gathers longan from the trees, handing them to Mai, who exclaims at their sweetness before passing some to me. They carry the taste of summer.

    
    
    

    We linger in the yard. Huề feeds the cow, then leads us under the shade of a jackfruit tree. Our driver fetches a ladder to twist the spiny fruit from its branches, while Huề waits below with a yellow sack, ready to catch the heavy drop. 

    The interview inside had been serious, Huề’s face composed, almost stern. Here in the yard, her expression loosens into laughter. She grins as the fruit drops into her arms and as the afternoon unfolds in small tasks.

    

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    When it is time to leave, Huề takes my hands in hers and rubs them slowly, back and forth. The gesture is tender, almost familial, and for a moment I think of my grandmother. I hold her hands a little longer before letting go. She wishes me health and a bright future; I ask Mai to return the wish. The words pass between us, suspended in translation, neither wholly hers nor mine.

    

52. Glimpses of Green: Promising Project Developments

    3:09 am Leave a Comment

    Tuesday, 19 August; Kathmandu

    The day started with a team meeting at Coffee Talk (a cafe in central Kathmandu and Niraj’s home base). We just sent out the second edition of our newsletter last Friday and had at least a week before we’d need to start thinking about the next one, so we used the meeting to continue discussing some of the bigger questions on our minds: Where do we want to be in a year and how to we get there? What’s the best place to start with programming? How do we make the newsletter sustainable? What about the website? How will we secure the funding we need to carry out all of this work?

    When all of the milk teas were finished, we transitioned to a “walking meeting” (these have become typical for our team) and made our way in the rain to a Kathmandu University building to check out what could become our office space.

    We missed the turn, walked too far, came around on the wrong side, but eventually made it — a gate with a small sign hosting the KU logo pinned on. The groundskeeper let us in, and we walked down a cobblestone path before ducking under an archway and out of the rain. It was dark and damp with old wires strewn about, piles of wood and brick, and a small fire emanating more smoke than warmth. The building itself was not so much a building as it was the remnants of one.

    As we waited here for the groundskeeper to return with a key, Ram told me about the building. It had been the home of Balkrishna Sama, a poet and member of the Rana family (he later changed his name to “Sama” meaning “equal”) who left his family and revolted against the Rana regime. It was damaged in the 2015 earthquake and, now owned by KU, was in the process of being repaired.

    The groundskeeper returned and led us inside. Not much different from outside, it was one of those spaces that seems to hold the life of the past and possibly the future, but not quite the present. Moss poked through the flooring where it existed, brick walls were dark with age, a couple of pieces of laundry hung on one of the low wires, unclear who they could possibly belong to, and, while it didn’t reach the corners, light poured in through the open doorway in front of us. Watching where we stepped, we walked through and stood in the doorway. There we could see a small courtyard and salmon-colored brick building with green frames. The groundskeeper pointed, Ram nodded, and I learned that this is where we could have an office.

    

    It was only drizzling now and so the three of us walked over. Cupping our hands over our eyes, we pressed our faces up against the windows and peered inside at the music department’s office on the first floor — a handful of desks, a computer. We walked over to the side of the building and discovered a small staircase leading to another green door. It was unlocked and inside we found a long narrow room with small windows and rows of chairs. Our excitement started to grow. We discussed where we might put desks once the chairs were moved out, took pictures, peered through the windows. “Ok,” Ram declared, “this will be our office.” “I can lobby,” he added, smiling at me. Niraj walked to the other side of the room and took a picture of us to mark the moment.

    

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    Outside again, our excitement continued to grow, and we went back and forth throwing out our ideas. There’s the perfect amount of space for a banner above the door, Ram pointed out, we could get one printed with our logo. And this courtyard would be a great place for us to host events, I noted. Like the monthly round table we’ve been talking about, Niraj added. The side had piles of wood and other supplies, but I explained that we could clear it out and plant some flowers. When it’s nice out, Ram announced, we’ll bring chairs and work out here. By the time we left, we were all unabashedly giddy.

    Things were the same, only we were much more aware of the actuality of our project, of everything we had accomplished and all the plans in place. There’s just something about a physical space that makes it feel so real.

    I couldn’t help but think of gardening in the rain, a metaphor Laila used in a mid-July blog to describe the start of our project. All we had at that point was a handful of seeds — ideas, relationships, a draft of our first newsletter, a center name. Now, our feet wet from rain soaked shoes, and hands dirty from a busy first month of work, I could see some green poking through the soil.

    We left certain we’d return soon and went out for some momos and then a couple of beers, returning amid casual conversation to the questions from that morning. Eventually our bellies grew full, and dusk arrived along with the cool air that follows the rain and so we took another walk before heading home on the bus.

    But, as I imagine many gardeners do, we all went to bed that night with a hope for what plants we might reap and the knowledge that, like any nascent garden, our project will need careful attending to.

53. Lê Thanh Đức: Caring for Three Daughters with Agent Orange

    August 21, 2025 1:12 am Leave a Comment

    The first thing I notice when I enter Lê Thanh Đức’s home is the stillness of the room. A fan hums in the corner, dispersing the warm summer air. Two women rest on the bed, their bodies curled against the wide frame. One turns her head as we enter, her eyes widening curiously for a moment before shifting into a soft smile. I smile back.

    

    Đức explains that his three daughters, all now in their forties, cannot speak. They communicate through gestures: touching their face when hungry, pressing their stomach when they need the toilet. Over decades, Đức has learned to read these signals. The room carries traces of the routine of their daily lives: the fan positioned just so, the folded cloth by her side, the neatness of the bed. Everything has been arranged with attention.

    

    Đức, now 65, was exposed to Agent Orange during the Vietnam War, when he fought in Đà Nẵng in 1974. The remnants of war remain, in his own chronic pain and in the intergenerational health effects of his children. He and his wife had six children in all. One died from complications due to Agent Orange. Two are unaffected and now work far from home to support the family. The remaining three daughters live here, with severe physical and intellectual disabilities. They are nonverbal, bed-bound, and experience frequent seizures.

    I ask him what his days look like. He tells me they revolve almost entirely around caregiving. He feeds his daughters, bathes them, changes their diapers, washes their clothes. They cannot speak, but the gestures they make communicate enough, and he responds quickly. Because of their seizures, he often sleeps only an hour or two each night. The rhythm of his life is measured in these small cycles of attention.

    

    

    Later, in the yard, I see the same quiet order at work. Dishes soak in a blue basin. Clothes hang in rows along a wire, patterned florals catching what light filters through the overcast sky. These are ordinary details, but here they feel heightened: visible signs of how caregiving fills the day. Đức rises before dawn, he tells us, tending to his daughters one by one.

    My eyes catch on a red plastic bag slumped against the wall. Inside are dolls, plushies, and a Barbie with tangled hair. Judging by the wear and tear, these toys are clearly played with regularly and beloved. My emotions catch in my throat.

    

    The family’s main income comes from government allowances for Agent Orange victims and war invalids. As a war invalid with an 81% disability rating, Đức receives 10 million VND per month (about $395). His three daughters each receive around 5 million VND (about $200) per month. Even so, it is not enough to cover basic living expenses. Đức tells me that diapers alone cost about 1 million VND (about $40) each month. To manage, he borrowed 300 million VND (about $11,500) from the bank, a debt he is still paying back with interest.

    When AEPD and The Advocacy Project first supported Đức in 2016, the traditional livestock model was not realistic given his full-time caregiving role. Instead, he chose to raise chickens and invest in equipment for a small fish sauce business. He continues this work today with the help of a close friend, producing traditional fish sauce at a time when cheaper industrial brands dominate the market. “There is still a lot of opportunity here,” he tells us, hopeful that people will continue to seek out something homemade and authentic.

    He bottles the sauce in recycled water jugs, prying open the caps for us to smell and taste. Minh and Mai each try a bit, nodding with approval. Đức watches closely, grinning as if the praise confirms what he already knew.

    

    He shows us the chickens, scattering feed into a corner of the yard. They rush toward the grain, wings beating against one another, the flock erupting into sound. Đức laughs, a sudden bright sound that fills the space. He crouches low, eyes crinkled, his face alive in the flurry of movement.

    

    The initial support – $1,138.74 raised by AP and AEPD – was significant and well-matched to his circumstances. Still, listening to Đức, it becomes clear that such one-time funding cannot offset the ongoing weight of caregiving, debt, and the long shadow of Agent Orange. Community support helps, but it does not replace the need for stable, long-term livelihood opportunities.

    I keep thinking about the red bag of dolls. Their plastic limbs and fabric seams softened from use, proof that play continues here, woven into the cycles of care.

    There is love in the routines: feeding, bathing, lifting, changing. Love not as sentiment but as repetition, a rhythm that holds the family together. I wonder how long such rhythms can be sustained, how love and exhaustion fold into one another, how support rarely reaches the households that need it most.

    Here, disability and poverty compound each other. For households like Đức’s, where multiple family members live with severe disabilities, the demands of care require more resources than what has been provided. The severity of care required makes it impossible to take on new income-generating projects without risk of collapse, yet these are the lives most in need of stability. The result is a paradox: the heavier the burden, the less effective the aid.

    And still, care persists. Not the kind described in aid reports or development plans, but the daily repetitions that hold life together: feeding, bathing, cleaning, playing. It is here that the political becomes visible too: how the long afterlife of war is absorbed into private households, into the unpaid labor of families, into the quiet rituals of survival.

    When I leave, it is this doubleness that lingers. I think of the persistence of care and play, the way love is asked to bear what war and poverty have left behind. It stays unsettled, unfinished, as if the story resists being closed.

    

54. Meeting Võ Thị Thảo

    August 19, 2025 1:59 am Leave a Comment

    The first thing I notice when I arrive at the home of Võ Thị Thảo is the large brown cow. It lies in the shade, its body pressed against the wall, chewing slowly. The rope at its neck hangs slack; its ears flick at the flies.

    A moment later, Thảo steps forward with her husband, Cảnh. I have come with colleagues from AEPD to spend the afternoon with them, to listen to their stories and to understand how the livelihood sponsorship they received from AP and AEPD is working for their family. From inside the doorway, their two children glance over at us, curious for a moment before returning to the easy indifference children often show toward visiting adults.

    

    AEPD outreach worker Nguyên (left) greeting Cảnh (right)

    

    AEPD translator Quyên (left) with Thảo (right)

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    The house is built of poured concrete, two stories with a narrow balcony along the front. Its pale walls stand out against the trees and the sand. To one side are two shrines painted in red and gold, their lacquer catching the late light. A sign above the doorway identifies the house as flood-resistant. My supervisor Hồng explains that it was built with support from the government and UNDP, after the family first received livelihood assistance from AP and AEPD.

    

    Thảo is forty-two, tall and lean, with a steady composure that softens when she speaks about her children. She lives with the effects of Agent Orange: a mild intellectual disability, epilepsy, and chronic pain that makes concentration and physical labor difficult. Her schooling ended after sixth grade. She tells me that studying for long periods, or even tasks that require sustained focus, brings on discomfort that is hard to manage.

    Her husband, Cảnh, carries his own history of war. He is eighty-one, a veteran, his body thinned and lined by years of labor in the fields. Much of the caregiving now falls to him: cooking, working the rice, and helping manage the household when Thảo’s health falters. The arrangement is not one they dwell on, but it shapes their days.

    The two have been married for fifteen years. Both had lost spouses before. Cảnh had been a friend of Thảo’s father, and after her husband died he stepped in, saying he felt a responsibility to care for her. Together they have built a life that includes their two children: a daughter in seventh grade and a son in fifth. Their faces soften with fondness as they talk about their children. “They do very well in school,” Cảnh says, his voice light. Thảo nods her head gently, her expression warm.

    

    In 2024, Thảo and Cảnh received livelihood sponsorship from AP and AEPD in the form of a breeding cow. The program begins from the recognition that families affected by Agent Orange often live at the intersection of poverty, disability, rural marginalization, and the long aftermath of war. Many of those affected were farmers and soldiers from rural villages; some fighting to protect their homes, others living in areas targeted by chemical spraying and deforestation campaigns.

    Although the government provides aid through disability compensation, housing programs, and veteran benefits, these measures are rarely enough to meet the daily needs of rural families living with disability. Without consistent care, illness and disability reduce a household’s capacity to work, while poverty limits access to treatment, each compounding the other.

    For AP and AEPD, livelihood is inseparable from dignity. Material stability offers the ground on which social belonging, political recognition, and even hope for the next generation can take root. In this context, a cow is more than an animal to feed and tend. It steadies a household that has lived for decades with conditions shaped by war, and it opens the possibility of less precarious lives. Yet material stability is only part of the picture. The origins of these hardships are political as much as economic, and their repair requires not only small-scale support but also sustained responsibility between Vietnam and the United States.

    

    Over tea, the conversation turns to the shape of their days. Much of the family’s livelihood still depends on rice, with the cow as a new form of stability. In the afternoons, Thảo and Cảnh walk out to the fields together. She bends to cut grass while he steadies the sack, adjusting it as it grows heavy. The work is demanding, especially for Thảo with her health and for Cảnh at his age, yet they carry it out side by side, their movements practiced and unhurried. In watching them, what becomes evident is the familiarity of routine, the way daily labor and care fold into one another.

    They feed the cow in the yard or walk it along the path when the weather holds. The animal is both a promise and a burden. As Cảnh grows older, the strength needed to guide it into the hills during floods is harder to summon, and Thảo’s health makes such work difficult for her as well. Flooding is a constant in this part of central Vietnam. When the water rises too quickly, they cannot take the cow far. Instead, they bring it into the house, leading it up the narrow staircase until the waters recede. Once, its weight cracked part of the steps.

    Thảo and Cảnh laugh as they tell the story, though their laughter carries the awareness that the next flood may bring new challenges. Their plan now is to build a raised platform inside the house, where the cow can keep dry. I picture the animal standing patiently in the stairwell, its heavy body pressed into the architecture of the home, and I think about the resilience required to adapt in ways both ordinary and extraordinary.

    

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    After a while, the conversation shifts from the fields and the floods to the future. I ask what they hope for in the years ahead. Hồng, translates, pausing before she speaks: “They say they have no hopes for the future.” The words settle heavily.

    Before the silence takes hold, Hồng’s daughter, Quyên, interjects gently. “That’s not quite accurate,” she says. “What they said is that they are content with their lives now, at their age. They don’t feel the need to imagine a different future for themselves. But they still have hopes for their children: to do well in school, to go to college, and to be afforded more opportunities in life.”

    The correction changes the moment. What I had taken as resignation is something else: a simple turning outward, and a passing on of hope. I am reminded how much depends on the small inflections of translation, how one rendering can suggest finality while another allows for possibility. In Babel, a novel I hold close, R.F. Kuang writes that “translation means doing violence upon the original, means warping and distorting it for foreign, unintended eyes. So then where does that leave us?” Here, I feel the weight of that question. I know how much I rely on others’ translations in this fellowship, how meaning shifts in the process, and how tenuous my grasp of the conversations can be. What I encounter in this moment is not only the risk of distortion but also the possibility of something unexpected surfacing, something made newly visible.

    At this stage in their lives, Thảo and Cảnh say their satisfaction lies in daily stability: the house that weathers the floods, the rice that grows each season, the cow that promises another source of income. But when they speak of their children, their faces brighten. Their daughter is good at literature, and their son is strong in math. Both do well in school. “They are smart,” Thảo says with tenderness. Hope does not disappear here. It bends, it adapts, and it transfers, lingering in the next generation.

    

55. “Early Test, Timely Treatment and Constant Prevention.”

    August 11, 2025 9:31 am 1 Comment

    Leveraging the trust and groundwork established through our successful WASH initiatives, we continued our malaria prevention and treatment training program in Awach Central and Panykworo, underscoring our commitment to holistic community well-being. This integrated approach empowers residents, educators, and students with the knowledge to combat malaria through early testing, timely treatment, and constant prevention. In Northern Uganda, malaria prevalence can soar to 70% in some districts, this explains why we have extended our efforts to address a disease that accounts for up to 50% of outpatient visits and disproportionately affects vulnerable children under five. By focusing on prevention and early detection, this program tackles both the health crisis and its severe socioeconomic impact, This model helps learners maintain consistent attendance and focus in the classroom, preventing the academic setbacks that arise when illness causes learning loss. Ultimately, it’s a powerful strategy for building a resilient community where children can reach their full educational potential.

    

    Learner of Awach Central Patiently Waits In Line To Be Tested For Malaria As Nancy Ajok Takes the RDT, A Result That Turned Positive.

    The training at Awach Central Primary School provided a comprehensive understanding of malaria, its symptoms, and the urgency of early treatment.it directly addressed the dangerous practice of self-medication, a misconception highlighted by Lakareber Rosemary, a nine-year-old pupil’s response that she takes medicine “to try if it works.” This chilling insight reveals a profound educational gap among the most vulnerable population. We therefore, focused on environmental prevention, teaching participants how to eliminate mosquito breeding sites. The case of 16-year-old Aber Cyndi, who has been treated for malaria seven(07) times in the past one year, she lacks a mosquito net, further illustrated the tangible barriers to prevention. The alarming 53% malaria positivity rate among the 100 students tested post-training in Awach central underscored the critical need for continued and targeted interventions.

    

    Cyndi Aber, Happily Smiles to the News That She Will Alongside Lakareber Rosemary Receive a Treated Mosquitos Net

    At Panykworo Primary School, our training reinforced the importance of early testing, timely treatment, and constant prevention. We educated the community on the severe impact of untreated malaria and emphasized that a prompt response is essential for survival. The session also included crucial information about the new malaria vaccine, a vital tool for children aged 6 months to 6 years, and provided clear guidance on where to access medical care. We equipped students and staff with best practices for both personal and home-based prevention, cultivating a culture of vigilance against the disease.

    Meet Lakareber Rosemary, The Nine Year Old Girl Child Who Boldly Said She Self Medicate To “Check If The Drug Works”

    Anena Polyn, a dedicated school medical assistant at Panykworo, exemplifies the human impact of our work. Working from a school infirmary constructed by Hope Is Education, Polyn’s passion extends beyond her office walls. We found her in the classrooms, proactively identifying sick children and ensuring those on medication adhered to their treatment plans. Her philosophy—“early test, timely treatment, and constant prevention measures is the best strategy“—is the driving force behind her unwavering commitment. Polyn powerfully stated that malaria prevention is a culture that must start at home, with parents as key partners in the fight. Her dedication highlights a fundamental truth: while our infrastructure provides the tools, it is the tireless efforts of individuals like Polyn that truly transform a community’s health outcomes. The question remains: how many other children, despite our best efforts, are still being left behind without a safe place to sleep?

    

    A Water Log in The School Environment Providing A Breeding Ground For Mosquitoes

    The stories of Lakareber Rosemary, Aber Cyndi, and the extraordinary dedication of Polyn remind us that the fight against malaria is not just about statistics; it is about real lives, vulnerable children, and the passionate individuals who stand on the front lines. Our integrated WASH and health initiatives have made a tangible impact, yet the alarming 53% positivity rate in Awach Central and the daily struggles of a girl like Aber without a proper mosquito net are a stark reminder of how far we still have to go. While our efforts have provided tools and knowledge, the true battle against malaria will only be won when prevention becomes a culture in every home. The question is, are we prepared to take the next step to ensure every child is protected?

56. Meeting Ms. Sen

    2:28 am Leave a Comment

    The drive to Bố Trạch takes us past rice paddies and quiet fields, the kind of scenery that makes time feel slower. I am traveling with the AEPD team: director Hồng, outreach officer Nguyên, and Hồng’s daughter, Quyên, who will be my translator for the day. In the car, Hồng, Nguyên, and the driver speak in an easy rhythm of Vietnamese conversation. Beside me, Quyên and I find common ground quickly. We are the same age, and our talk flows from college to music to what it is like growing up here.

    Today, we are visiting two women affected by Agent Orange: Dương Thị Sen and Võ Thị Thảo. In Vietnam, as elsewhere, disability and gender intersect in ways that deepen vulnerability. Women with disabilities often face barriers to education, limited job opportunities, and heightened economic dependence on family or spouses. In the case of Agent Orange, these inequities are compounded by the generational aspect of poisoning, the stigma surrounding disability, and the heavy caregiving responsibilities women often shoulder, whether as survivors themselves or as caretakers for affected relatives. This history shapes the gaze I bring to the visits, a sense of where gender and disability might surface in the patterns of daily life. I know this gaze is porous. It lets in some things and leaves others at the edges. By the end of the day, I expect it will have shifted, gently, perhaps without my noticing, under the influence of the women themselves.

     

    

    Sen’s home. The blue structure on the left is a recently built flood-resistant shelter, funded with government support

     

    Sen is already outside when we arrive, standing in the narrow strip of shade by her doorway. She looks up at the sound of the car, her face opening into a smile that reaches her eyes. Her daughter lingers just behind her, shy and curious, hair neatly pulled back with two small clips holding the shorter strands in place.

    Sen is a single mother and second-generation survivor of Agent Orange, living with the lasting effects of exposure: a repaired cleft lip, a speech and hearing impairment, mild intellectual disability, physical weakness, and chronic pain. Her daughter, now in eighth grade, often translates for her so others can understand. It is a role she seems to slip into naturally, folded into the small rituals of their daily life.

    

    Hồng (left), Sen (middle), and Nguyên (right)

    

    Quyên (left) and Hồng (right)

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    Life here moves at the pace of the seasons. Most mornings, Sen is out in the fields, stooping to gather bunches of herbs, the damp earth clinging to her sandals. She ties the stems together in neat bundles to sell at the market. Later, she cuts armfuls of grass for the buffalo, unlatching the wooden gate and spreading the grass over the worn ground. Inside the house, she cooks for herself and her daughter. Rice steams in a metal pot, and vegetables simmer on the stove.

    Sen tells me this is how most days begin and end: tending the plants, the animals, the meals. As she walks me through her day, I find myself watching the way her hands move. They are precise, unhurried, carrying out tasks she has done so many times.

    

    Sen carrying a basket of grass

    

    Sen picking herbs in the field

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    In 2024, Sen received a livelihood sponsorship from The Advocacy Project in the form of a breeding buffalo. She chose the buffalo because the calves could provide a more stable source of income over time, and the animal’s manure would help fertilize her fields. While the buffalo has not yet brought in much money, it recently gave birth to a calf that will soon be sold. Sen’s daughter relays that Calves of this size typically sell for 7-15 million đồng ($266-$571), the price depending on their health and build. Buyers here often prefer smaller buffalos; they are easier to handle, especially when the floods come and livestock must be led to higher ground.

    

    

    Partway through the interview, Sen’s brother appears in the doorway and takes a seat beside us. He is older, perhaps in his sixties, with a calm, serious manner. For a while he listens, then speaks, his voice low and steady. It is he who takes the buffalo the long distance to higher ground when the storms come. Sen and her thirteen-year-old daughter do not have the strength to pull the animal that far. Before the rain arrives, he loops a rope around its neck and guides it up the narrow path, the ground slick beneath their hooves. Each year, the climb feels longer, the weight more pronounced. He admits he does not know how they will manage in the years ahead, as he grows older and weaker.

    

    Sen’s brother

    When I ask Sen about her future, she says she would like to raise a pig. It would be another source of income, steady enough to sit alongside the herbs and the buffalo. When I ask about her hopes and dreams, her answer turns almost immediately toward her daughter. She wants her to continue her education on to high school, perhaps university. The hope is clear, though it arrives with a worry: how she will pay for it, and what will happen to her daughter if her own health fails.

    

    Sen (left) and her daughter (right)

    

    Sen (left) and her daughter (right)

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    She looks over then, and her face softens.

    “She’s smart,” Sen beams. “She does well in school.”

    Her daughter lowers her head, smiling in a way that feels both bashful and pleased. The air between them is warm, familiar. I notice the way the moment seems to close around them, how the talk of livestock, floods, and uphill climbs loses its shape. What remains is a small, intimate circuit of affection. I hold this close to my chest.

57. Farewell Trailblazer: A Mind, A Heart, A Helping Hand.

    August 4, 2025 9:12 am 2 Comments

    “The true measure of a man is not how he behaves in moments of comfort and convenience, but how he stands at times of controversy and challenge.” – Martin Luther King Jr.

    This profound principle defined Mr. Baileys tenure at Gulu Disabled Persons Union (GDPU). During his ten-week duty with the WASH Project, supported by the Advocacy Project, Aron did more than just execute tasks. He consistently showcased a resolute spirit and unwavering commitment that left a significant and lasting mark on GDPU’s WASH Program.

    

    Aaron Supporting Learners of Tochi Primary School cut and Prepare their fabric to make Reusable Pads 

    Aron’s approach was defined by innovation and efficiency, tackling project complexities with a clear vision. He developed a new monitoring tool that will streamline the tracking and evaluation of the WASH Project’s effectiveness for years, a testament to his foresight. His diligent oversight of ongoing activities and active participation in school monitoring and evaluation ensured that projects are not only effective but also genuinely inclusive and impactful, directly benefiting the communities GDPU serves.

    

    Seated on Dirt, Along with Learners of Panykworo Primary school During Malaria Prevention Training.

    Beyond direct project management, Aron’s impactful presence was evident in his ability to forge vital partnerships. He was instrumental setting up foundation for partnership between GDPO and prominent organizations such as Amigos International, World Vision and Her Worth Foundation, both deeply committed to WASH efforts. These strategic alliances are poised to expand the scope and ensure the sustainability of GDPO’s work, reflecting Aron’s dedication to long-term solutions. Furthermore, his unwavering support for the “Women in Action for Women” (WAW) group stands out. WAW recently received sewing machines and began training sessions at GDPU, significantly bolstering the confidence and skills of these women—a tangible legacy of empowerment.

    

    The Hand Over of Training and Sawing Machines to WAW, Aaron worked Hard to Ensure their Training Kicked Off in the Best Way Possible.

    Mr. Bailey’s impact transcended his technical accomplishments, deeply resonating through his collaborative and supportive approach. Colleagues at GDPU consistently highlight his intellectual acumen, complemented by an unwavering optimism. His consistent willingness to provide assistance and his inclusive demeanor left a significant and positive impression across the organization. The farewell gathering, attended by GDPU’s core leadership—including Coordinator Ojok Patrick, Joe, Teacher Aciro Brenda, Accountant Komakech Patrick, Andrew, and a representative from WAW—served as an acknowledgment of his contributions. The event concluded with a farewell lunch, a final opportunity for shared camaraderie, during which Aron reiterated his commitment to supporting GDPU’s mission from a distance.

    

    “The Best Outing i had this Summer” as He Described the Training on Menstrual Hygiene with girls of Tochi Primary School. 

    As Aaron embarks on the next chapter of his career, he leaves behind a legacy of transformative contributions to GDPU and the communities it serves. His dedication, innovative spirit, and unwavering commitment to making a tangible difference will undoubtedly continue to resonate.

58. “Peace is Not Enough” — A Conversation with Prem Bayak

    6:20 am 3 Comments

    17 July; Kailali District

    After a long and bumpy drive and walk across the Chisapani bridge, we meet Prem Bayak near an assortment of fruit and vegetable stands. We introduce ourselves and then sit under a covering with Niraj, letting Ram and Prem catch up on their own. A woman hands me a piece of cardboard to use as a fan. I happily accept and Shuyuan, Laila, and I spend the next ten minutes and the subsequent car ride passing it around in an attempt to slow the sweat dripping down the sides of our faces and neck.

    A short drive later, we all arrive together at a bubblegum pink building occupying the end of a short alley. There’s a small ramp and we let Prem enter first. He uses a walker, and each step is accomplished by throwing the walker in front and then pulling his body forward. Throw, pull; throw, pull. We trail behind. He’s a large man with hands that could easily palm a basketball and strong arms and shoulders, which we learn from Ram are not just from this throw and pull method, but the result of daily morning arm workouts. It’s clear he’s the kind of person that could command an army.

    We’re led through an open doorway into a narrow room with walls just as pink as the outside of the building and orange trim. The opposite side of the room is open to the outside. With just two main walls, it feels as though we are in a hallway, a place of passage from inside to out. But we stay. Setting bags in the corner, we all take a seat in one of the plastic blue chairs set around a long green table hosting the Tuborg beer slogan “Tilt Your World.” A small ceiling fan hangs over head, fighting the heat.

    After some small talk, we ask Prem about his time as a commander of the People’s Liberation Army. “I escaped death twice,” he begins, looking us in the eye as he talks, his voice containing the kind of passion of those storytellers that are good because they have lived. We learn that he has six or seven bullets in his head and one in his spine. It’s the singular bullet in his spine that left him partially paralyzed.

    He quickly moves from his own story to those of ex-combatants in general, many of whom continue to live out the impacts of the conflict in their daily lives through various physical and mental health problems. The government has done little to help. “The warriors that fought to change the whole system are not being addressed; they are suffering,” Prem tells us.

    After the signing of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement, the PLA was dissolved. While combatants could be integrated into the national army, many were discharged, deemed ineligible due to injuries, disability, or lack of formal education. Some received small payments to assist with reintegration and livelihood (University of Notre Dame Kroc Institute). However, according to a participatory research project that Prem was involved in, stigma, insufficient livelihood support, and alienation continue to create challenges to their social, economic, and political integration.

    Post-conflict, Prem has become a strong advocate for access to care, justice, and dignity for ex-combatants. He also remains an ardent fighter for the social change and equality the revolution sought to realize. “Though my physical situation is very difficult,” he motions to his legs, “I was in the revolution, so my willpower is strong.”

    It always has been, and remains, a fight for justice and equality. Before the revolution, Prem tells us, “Society was full of systemic injustice and dominance. Feudal landlords ruled. Poor farmers couldn’t seek justice. Atrocities were high. Society was seeking change.” People began to raise their voices but were suppressed. The Communist Party of Nepal issued a 40 point demand including an end to feudalism, political reform, economic development, and social justice. When this went unheeded, Prem explains, “we were forced to start an armed revolution.” He reminds us, speaking about the past, but resonating with the present, “this is our right when there is suffering from injustice and suppression.”

    He continues on, telling us about being underground, speaking with families at night to gain their trust, the atrocities of the state which began to turn support towards the Maoists, and the many battles fought in a range of localities, different topographies, at night, in the morning. And at the end of what seemed like an epic saga, he came back to his original sentiment. “We never wanted the war, it was all for change. Peace is sometimes not enough, you need justice.”

    Yet, this change has not been fully realized. “Top political leaders are still only focused on power; the system has changed, but not the situation,” Prem tells us. “Though people have a voice, their livelihood, their economic situation, has not improved.” He continues, “conflict victims have not gotten justice.” Looking over to Ram as if to acknowledge his role in the movement, he begins discussing the politicization of the victims’ agenda, failure at both the local and federal level to address victims’ needs, demand for medical care because of injuries incurred during the conflict, and the exclusion of victims and survivors from what has become a stalled transitional justice process. “Until the state takes responsibility, it will always be difficult for victims and the poor. The social struggle continues,” he concludes.

    While no longer fought with a gun, the war for Prem is far from over. “We dream of an equitable society,” he tells us. He speaks with a kind of urgency that is almost peculiar for a man that has gone through what he has. Where you’d expect the resolve to have worn thin, there is a kind of youthfulness, a passion typically seen in those who are just starting out, fresh with hope not yet pounded flat by the difficult road ahead. Yet, he sits across from me in this bubblegum pink hallway-like-room and says, “It is possible.”

    He leans back into his chair as plates of fried fish fresh from the river are brought in. The mood shifts, the seriousness of our conversation lifted by the arrival of food. But as the group begins to indulge, the crunch of fried batter, smacking of lips, licking of fingers filling the space, I can’t help but feel Prem’s earlier words lingering. “Peace is not enough.”

    Spoken as much about the past as the future, his words seem to have touched on some cord pulled through human history. For those who do not live in abstracts, as long as there is suffering and oppression, peace is not enough. And in Nepal today, where arms have been shelved for over a decade, it remains insufficient.

    As I continue to reflect on the meaning of his words for the current world, where the promotion of peace and harmony seem to have become a tool for suppressing fights for justice, Prem offers us some final thoughts.

    “We are human — Nepali, American — life or death is nature. What matters is what you do in between and the image you leave behind. If human beings don’t help one another, there is no point in being human. Everything can be saved, because everything is mutual.”

    Within the timescales of our lives, our meeting with Prem is fleeting. As with most things, we are passing through — his a brief break from a busy life of advocacy and ours a stop in a chain of interviews and travel. Yet, within that passage was the most fruitful exchange; our interconnectedness, our mutuality clear.

    Prem must have sensed the same awareness I was feeling of the significance of our meeting in this hallway-made-room because he ended with the reflection, “I haven’t been to America or China, but my voice will reach there through you. We are from different cultures, but we sit at the same table.”

     

    

    Our group with Prem Bayak (middle)

     

59. Justice on Nepali Time: Field Notes from My Summer with NEFAD

    August 3, 2025 8:17 am 3 Comments

    I landed in Nepal on 9 June and left on 24 July—a 45-day adventure that felt at once like a whirlwind and a slow unfolding story.

    Coming from a background where meetings have agendas, deadlines are sacred, and everything fits neatly into a timeline, Nepal was… different. Here, things are more informal, more “let’s see where the day takes us.” At first, it felt like chaos—scattered meetings, shifting plans—but then I realized something magical: despite the lack of structure, things still happened. Slowly, yes. Sometimes unpredictably. But they happened. Eventually, I stopped resisting the flow and learned to float with it.

    This wouldn’t have been possible without Ram and Niraj, who patiently translated not just the language but the rhythm of Nepali life for me. By July, when Emma and Laila joined, our little summer team had found its stride.

    

    Team Nepal, with Iain dialing in from across the ocean.

     

    How It All Happened

    The story actually began months earlier, with Iain. Digging through my inbox, I found our first chat and call from late March. Iain had reached out to Theo (once a UN Special Rapporteur) about finding a researcher to help NEFAD (Network of Families of the Disappeared and Missing) craft a reparations policy paper.

    This collaboration was made possible through The Advocacy Project’s Peace Fellowship, a program that has long connected researchers with grassroots human rights and development movements. The Advocacy Project helps marginalized communities tell their stories, strengthen their organizations, take action, and mobilize support. AP and NEFAD already share a rich history of partnership—working together on advocacy campaigns, embroidery projects, and amplifying the voices of families of the disappeared. This fellowship built on that foundation, allowing me to embed with NEFAD and contribute directly to their transitional justice work.

    After weeks of back-and-forth calls, weighing uncertainties on both sides, we finally said: Let’s do this. And I’m so glad we did.

    I met Ram online for the first time on 7 May. We spoke about his research, philosophy, and his father’s disappearance. I asked a clumsy question: “How can you still be so bright after experiencing such things?” Ram just smiled and said, “Life goes on. We must stay optimistic and patient.” That’s Ram in a nutshell—light in the darkest of places.

    

    With Ram

     

    NEFAD is a grassroots organization born from tragedy. It was founded by families of the enforced disappeared, including Ram, whose own father, Tej Bahadur Bhandari, was taken by state security forces during Nepal’s 1996–2006 conflict. On 31 December 2001, 56-year-old Tej Bahadur was arrested on the streets of Besisahar, handcuffed, blindfolded, brutally tortured, and dragged to the district headquarters of Lamjung—never to return. For over two decades since, NEFAD has fought relentlessly for truth, justice, recognition, and reparations. They’ve built memorials, launched legal cases, and sustained a movement that refuses to let victims’ voices fade into silence. (You can read more about this in Ram’s blog on his father.)

    By mid-May, my flight and accommodation were finally booked—just three weeks before takeoff. By that point, Iain had mastered a now-iconic four-finger gesture on our video calls, flashing it every time he reminded me of our summer goals. I swear, if we’d had one more call, he could’ve done it blindfolded.

     

    How Things Were in Nepal

    Just before I arrived, new commissioners were appointed to the transitional justice commissions. The reaction from victims and survivors? Outrage.

    Despite promises of consultation, Supreme Court orders, and years of advocacy, political parties handpicked commissioners without involving those most affected by the conflict. Ram described Kathmandu as a “battlefield.” Victims protested, the government dug in its heels, and international actors tried to broker compromise. But victims weren’t interested in compromise; they’d been ignored too many times. Starting over—even if it meant waiting longer—felt like the only way to reclaim justice.

    As I write this, over 300 victims are preparing a joint writ to challenge both the appointments and some troubling provisions in the new Transitional Justice Act. The Act, passed in August 2024, bans blanket amnesty but still allows up to 75% sentence reductions for grave crimes—a bitter pill for those seeking accountability. (I wrote more about this in another blog post.)

    Ram was at the heart of it all. Chairing NEFAD, mentoring activists, meeting stakeholders, strategizing responses—his calendar was a blur. Under his guidance, my daily partner-in-crime was Niraj. We met during my second week (he had taken 40 students on a field trip the first week—classic Niraj). At first, we didn’t talk much, but over time he became the most supportive, patient colleague. He coordinated everything, translated during countless interviews, and somehow made even long, hot field days feel manageable.

    Then came July. Emma and Laila arrived, and suddenly we were a full team. Emma is like a human compass—she kept us organized, wrote beautifully, designed our website, planned meetings down to the minute, and still found time to lift everyone’s spirits. Laila, meanwhile, radiated curiosity and warmth, conducting interviews like a natural, designing logos, editing newsletters, and lightening every room she entered.

    

    The Team with Prem Bayak, Former PLA Commander

     

    Together, we laid the foundation for the Center for Human Rights and Victims of Violations (CHRV), launched the very first issue of our newsletter, and interviewed dozens of survivors and advocates. We hiked through monsoon rain that rewarded us with a perfect rainbow and embarked on an unforgettable trip to Bardiya—40 hours on buses, sticky mango juice on our hands, long walks through sun-drenched fields, a haunting visit to the memorial park, and late-night adventures spotting wasps and frogs by flashlight. It was messy, exhausting, and absolutely wonderful.

    

    Laila and Emma happily enjoying mangoes.

    

    Emma, Laila, and I on a boat in the Pond of Hope, within the memorial park for the enforced disappeared.

     

    How I Feel After Leaving Nepal

    Transitional justice in Nepal is a marathon, not a sprint. The struggle doesn’t pause when you leave—it carries on, driven by those tirelessly working on the ground and supported by allies from afar.

    Our contributions this summer may have been just a small part of a much longer journey, but I’m proud of what we accomplished. We launched the inaugural issue of Survivor’s Record, the newsletter of the CHRV at Kathmandu University (If you want to subscribe the newsletter, please contact nepalchrv@gmail.com). And even from afar, I’ll continue collaborating with Ram on the reparations policy paper, drawing on the powerful interviews we conducted with conflict victims and survivors.

    

    Meeting on the Establishment of the CHRV

     

    I often think back to those interviews. Before the first ones, I was nervous—an outsider who didn’t speak Nepali, someone who could never fully grasp their pain. I worried my questions might reopen old wounds. But instead, I found a strength I had never witnessed before. Survivors spoke of their disappeared loved ones with both tears and smiles. They delivered sharp critiques of government failures and showed an unshakable resolve to keep pushing for truth and justice. Their courage fuels Nepal’s grassroots victims’ movement—and it has left a permanent mark on me.

     

    I still hear their voices echoing in my mind:

    • “What can ever compensate us for what we suffered, for what we lost? Nothing.” — a woman who survived sexual violence during the conflict

     

    • “They [the government] didn’t want to hear us—we forced them to hear.” — Devi Khadka

     

    • “I told you my son’s story, every detail of it, because I want more people to know what happened here.” — Ekraj Bhandari

     

    • “We, the victims and survivors, are not merely weak parties in this process—we are strong and active participants.” — Ram Bhandari

     

    • “If there is a will, there is a way.” — Prem Bayak

     

    • “I’m glad that now I can help other people.” — Gita Rasaili

     

    • “In my 19 years working with the CVC, only one woman who survived sexual violence has ever come to me. The social stigma runs so deep.” — Bhagiram Chaudhary

     

    • “We just want to know what happened.” — families of the enforced disappeared

     

    

    At the memorial park for the enforced disappeared, each bag represents the belongings of a disappeared person.

     

    Nepal also gave me back something I didn’t realize I had lost. When I arrived, I was tightly wound from months of high-pressure work. But six weeks there—with its slower rhythm, warm-hearted people, and quiet moments of connection—softened me. I rediscovered patience, empathy, and even a sense of humor about life’s unpredictability. That is Nepal’s gift to me.

    So, thank you—to everyone I met, to every conversation, every mango, every crowded bus ride. Thank you for the memories, the empowerment, and the gentle reminder that even in the slowest, most scattered moments… change is still possible.

     

    

    An unforgettable memory: happy faces all around after a 22-hour bus ride—we’ve finally made it to Bardiya!

60. Mango Juice, Matching Slippers, and a Fight for Justice: An Afternoon with Gita Rasaili

    7:15 am 1 Comment

    We first met Gita on a scorching, dry Tuesday afternoon, 22 July, at the Civil Service Hospital of Nepal. It hadn’t been easy to make this meeting happen. Before our trip to Bardiya, we had tried to arrange an interview, but Gita’s days and nights were consumed by the relentless demands of caring for her father. After we returned, we tried again. On 21 July, we thought we had finally secured a time—10 a.m.—and I remember feeling relieved, only to receive a message fifteen minutes before: another medical emergency had arisen. She couldn’t leave her father’s side. With my departure from Nepal just two days away, it felt as though time itself was conspiring against us.

    On 22 July, at 1 p.m., we tried again—and this time, it worked. I arrived early, waiting for Niraj at the hospital’s main entrance. The heat clung to the air, and even the shade offered little relief. The hospital buzzed with human need: families sitting on concrete steps, nurses hurrying past, and queues curling like serpents in front of every window—pharmacy counters, payment desks, appointment booths. The Civil Service Hospital is one of only a handful of government hospitals in Kathmandu, and with its relatively low fees, long waits are simply part of the experience of seeking care.

    We found Gita in the canteen. Before meeting her, I had read her earlier interviews, thinking I might have to search for her in the crowd. But recognition came instantly. Amid the clatter of metal trays and the din of lunchtime conversations, she stood out—a quiet poise, eyes bright yet tired, hair black as seaweed but tied neatly back. It made perfect sense; when you’re looking after a patient, practicality rules over style.

    She greeted us softly, with a kind but weary smile, and asked if she could finish her meal first. We nodded without hesitation. From outside, Niraj and I waited, sipping mango juice while she ate.

    When she finally emerged, her steps were unhurried, shoulders gently slumped from sleepless nights, yet her smile returned the moment she saw us. We wandered together in search of a place to sit, but every bench was already occupied. Eventually, we found a small patch of space beside a flower bed. There, the three of us settled on the ground in a rough triangle, and the interview began—forty minutes of conversation that would linger with me long after that day.

    

    Outside the hospital canteen, while we waited for Gita.

     

    Who is Gita?

    Gita Rasaili is a human rights defender in Nepal. She is Dalit. She believes firmly in communism and Marxism. Two months ago, she was elected Chairperson of the Conflict Victim Women National Network (CVWN). Before that, she was its Vice Chairperson.

    She comes from a village where, during the 1996–2006 conflict, very few people were not Maoist. Her brother was killed in the conflict. Her sister was abducted, tortured, gang-raped, and killed by state security forces. Her father and brother-in-law were also tortured.

    She is now leading a writ petition to be submitted to the Supreme Court of Nepal, challenging the appointment of commissioners to the two transitional justice commissions. She is the first woman to lead this effort. Before, it was always men. And she is Dalit.

    These are facts. This is who she is—and what made her who she is. The lines you might read on a CV, a name card, the keywords in an interview. Plain black and white.

    But in our conversation, she gave us more. She revealed the vivid, unfiltered person behind those facts:

    “When you have political power or economic power, you will find all this caste discrimination, all these cultural rules, are bullshit—because people only care, in that moment, that you have the power.”

    While human rights is often questioned and challenged, this unspoken rule—that power determines how most people see you—seems to be far more universal across societies.

     

    Childhood Rebellion and Lifelong Inequality

    Growing up in Kavre district, discrimination shaped every corner of Gita’s life. In an earlier interview with Peace Brigades International UK, she recalled that at school there were no chairs or benches—just a thin mat where children sat to study. She remembers watching classmates walk to the teachers’ room to fetch water while she stayed seated, never allowed to do it herself. Friends made plans for overnight study sessions but never invited her. As a child, she didn’t understand why. Only later did she realize she wasn’t even permitted to step inside their homes.

    The rules around water were the hardest to bear. “I wondered why I couldn’t go near the communal water tap or touch certain items,” she said. One day, curiosity overcame fear. Walking home from school, she reached out and touched a neighbor’s water pot. She half-believed something terrible would happen to that family because of her touch. But the next day, everyone was fine.

    For a month, she kept testing these limits—touching water pots, breaking quiet rules that had defined her life. Nothing bad happened. Slowly, she began fetching water herself at school, using the public tap without asking for help. If anyone questioned her, she stood her ground. These small acts of defiance built her confidence brick by brick. Over six or seven years, this quiet rebellion transformed into resilience—a refusal to accept the status she had been assigned at birth.

    Her village was steeped in discrimination and cut off from education. The Maoist movement, promising equality and justice, took strong hold there. “Perhaps because we believed in what the Maoists were after—bringing equality and fighting injustice—my family, including myself, were influenced towards that way of thinking,” she said.

    Even decades later, long after education and activism altered her personal trajectory, Gita sees how deeply entrenched caste discrimination remains. “Some behaviors have shifted,” she explains, “but discrimination is passed down through generations. It doesn’t disappear with time or distance.”

    This is not limited to Nepal. During her travels abroad, Gita observed similar invisible boundaries: invitations and opportunities often came only from other Dalits, rarely from outside the community.

    Marriage practices remain one of the strongest barriers. Inter-caste unions are rare, and Dalit women who marry outside their caste often face domestic violence. “Overcoming these barriers takes enormous courage and a very long time,” Gita says.

    

    Gita Rasaili: photo from her interview with PBI UK.

     

    Her Leadership

    After her sister Reena was gang-raped, shot, and killed by state security forces in front of their parents in Kavre, Gita’s father took the bold step of filing a legal case seeking justice. As the family’s grief unfolded, Gita stepped in to carry the fight forward. She established a foundation in Reena’s name, working mainly in her district to support other victims’ families who had similarly suffered and been silenced.

    Because her hometown was close to Kathmandu, NGOs began reaching out to learn about her work. These early interactions exposed her to broader civil society efforts and, eventually, led her to move to Kathmandu. There, both she and the foundation became part of the wider victims’ movement. Over time, her activities shifted from being NGO-supported to more independent, connecting with national and even international advocacy networks.

    Through the formation of the Conflict Victims’ Common Platform (CVCP), she helped bring together families and groups from across Nepal. Organizing these efforts, coordinating actions, and listening to the stories of victims helped Gita gradually develop her leadership skills. She built a national network focused on empowering people who had long been denied a voice.

    Living in Kathmandu also gave her new perspectives. She saw firsthand how women’s voices were often silenced in decision-making spaces. Determined to change that, she helped establish a women’s committee within the network and later became its chairperson. Leading this committee strengthened her ability to speak publicly, advocate for women’s rights, and push women’s issues into mainstream agendas.

    Today, as Chairperson of the CVWN, Gita leads initiatives that train women survivors in leadership and communication skills.

    “Women’s voices were silenced in the movement,” she recalls. “I wanted to change that.”

    Her goal is not just to provide support but to transform survivors into empowered leaders who can stand and speak for themselves:

    “Our goal is to truly empower them to stand on their own.”

     

    Challenging Transitional Justice Failures

    Nepal’s transitional justice process has long failed victims of the armed conflict. Political interference, repeated delays, and the absence of victim-centered mechanisms have eroded public trust and left thousands of families without truth, justice, or reparations.

    Gita Rasaili has become one of the most prominent voices demanding reform. She is currently leading the drafting of a writ petition to be filed before Nepal’s Supreme Court. The petition challenges the government’s politically motivated selection of commissioners for the two transitional justice commissions. (Read more about this recent development here: Nepal conflict victims to move court against law revision)

    Choosing her to lead this legal challenge was a deliberate and symbolic decision:

    “It shows solidarity with women victims of conflict-related sexual violence,” Gita explains. “Historically, men always led such actions. Now, we are changing that.”

    Beyond legal reform, Gita is outspoken about the urgent need to fix Nepal’s broken approach to reparations. She argues that the state has treated reparations as a tool to bargain with victims rather than recognizing them as fundamental rights:

    “The government connects reparation to justice and uses it as a bargaining chip,” she says. “But reparation is a basic, independent right. It should respond to victims’ immediate needs and not be delayed until after legal justice processes are complete.”

    She stresses that reparations cannot follow a “blanket formula.” Every victim has faced different harms and losses—ranging from sexual violence and torture to economic displacement and social exclusion—and requires tailored, needs-based solutions. Foundational principles already exist to guide this process, including the CVCP’s 2018 policy paper, Reparative Needs, Rights, and Demands of Victims of the Armed Conflict in Nepal and the International Center for Transitional Justice’s guidance on reparations for survivors of conflict-related sexual violence. Both emphasize that reparations must be individualized, victim-centered, and grounded in dignity rather than offered as uniform or symbolic compensation.

    Under the leadership of Gita and other victim group leaders, grassroots consultations are being carried out to build upon the strong foundation of existing guidelines, strengthen them with new insights, and ensure that policies fully incorporate the voices of victims—particularly women and marginalized communities. The goal is to move reparations from a fragmented and often symbolic gesture to a central pillar of transitional justice:

    “Reparation is victims’ right. It is not something that can be compromised or negotiated.”

     

    Power Born of Resistance

    Education and activism have opened new opportunities for some Dalits since Gita’s childhood. Schools today treat Dalit children with more fairness, and public awareness of equality has grown. Yet when Gita returns to her home village, the old wounds resurface.

    “I still feel the same as when I was a child,” she admitted softly. “Back there, that hasn’t changed.”

    What has changed is Gita herself. From a young girl silenced by caste and gender discrimination, she has grown into a fearless leader of conflict victims. She embodies resilience, courage, and defiance. She has stood up to powerful institutions, challenged a flawed transitional justice process, and demanded that victims be recognized not as passive recipients of aid but as rights-holders with dignity and agency.

    And yet, despite everything she carries, Gita is a delight to be around. Even as her father lay in the hospital, needing daily care after a recent medical emergency, she smiled, laughed, and shared her story with warmth and generosity that lit up the heavy afternoon air. Near the end of our interview, we noticed something that made us all laugh—she and Niraj were wearing exactly the same slippers. A small, unexpected moment of connection. It’s how that day ended, and it’s how I’ll remember it.

    

    Gita and Niraj discovered they had matching slippers!

     

    Author’s note:
    This blog is based on a recent interview with Gita Rasaili and draws upon publicly available information from Peace Brigades International and other sources. Gita Rasaili currently serves as Chairperson of the Conflict Victim Women National Network (CVWN), a women-led organization formed in 2020 within Nepal’s broader conflict victims’ movement. Quotes have been lightly edited for clarity.

61. Tying Up Loose Ends: Focusing on the Future

    July 31, 2025 1:55 pm 4 Comments

    As a former soldier, I’ve seen conflict from the inside—the structure, the strategy, and too often, the suffering. But as cogs in the U.S. war machine, we were really just tourists. We’d enter a conflict zone for a few months, run our missions, and leave. And that was usually the end of the story. We went back to our lives in the States, rarely worrying about the aftermath left in a foreign land. Helping, feeding, rebuilding—the “hearts and minds” work—was never the infantryman’s prerogative.

    This summer, I came face to face with those left behind. The so-called “collateral damage.” And this time, helping them was my job.

     

    

    5 ladies from Waneno Anyim, receiving their sewing machines

     

    Nothing prepared me for the quiet strength I would witness in northern Uganda. The women of Waneno Anyim (WA) [Acholi: Focus on the Future] are survivors of war—not just its violence, but its long shadows: displacement, trauma, and generational poverty.

    The sewing machines had already been delivered when I arrived at the GDPO compound, a concrete sign of the efforts, compromises, and negotiations that unfolded over the summer. What once felt like an abstract goal had taken material form. It felt like a milestone—not just for them, but for all of us who had a hand in pushing this dream forward.

     

    

    Nighty begins training WAW members in the use of sewing machines

     

    WAW isn’t just a sewing group. It’s a statement of defiance against what Joseph Kony and the LRA tried to destroy. These women are rebuilding their lives on their own terms—not waiting for outside solutions. My role has been to stand beside them—not as a savior, but as someone who understands what war takes, and who wants to help them reclaim something in return. Still, when they said “thank you”, I felt a sense of pride in my work that I hadn’t felt during my years of ‘service’.

    The sewing machines, the training, the business plan—these are just tools. What’s really happening here is healing. It’s what happens when former fighters support former victims. When those trained to break things learn to build again. And when community rises from the ruins of conflict.

     

    

    One last photo; Nighty, Myself, Nancy, Margaret, Concy, after some truly moving good-byes

62. Breaking the Chains of Silent Pain.

    July 28, 2025 9:56 am 35 Comments

    An ordinary school day at Tochi Primary School, it was, much like any other, marked by the usual hushed whispers and averted glances whenever a girl needed to manage her period.

    Then, unexpectedly, it shift into a pivotal moment that defied expectations. This change wasn’t brought about by a new lesson plan, but by the courage to shatter a profound silence that for far too long have ravaged this community. Young girls in this society have grappled with the invisible burdens of menstrual hygiene management, a struggle amplified by a pervasive culture of secrecy, shame, and deeply entrenched myths.

    This poignant reality often leads to severe challenges, including educational disruption, critical health risks, and diminished self-esteem. The absence of accurate knowledge, essential menstrual products, and safe spaces for discourse creates an environment where girls are forced to navigate this natural biological process in isolation, truly enduring in silence.

    With support from The Advocacy Project, Gulu Disabled Persons Organization and Her Worth Foundation are determined break the ice.

     

    

    Training complete, spirits high! It’s inspiring to see the pride and joy on their faces as they hold their very own handmade reusable sanitary pads. This is what empowerment looks like!

     

    “The worst is when I’m in class and feel it might be leaking,” Amolo recounted, her voice barely a whisper, echoing the hidden anxieties of countless peers. “I sit stiff, trying not to move. If I stand up, everyone will see. The boys, they tease you. They call out names, ‘She’s dirty!’ or ‘She’s stinking!’ Sometimes, if a stain appears, they point and laugh. The shame… it’s like a fire inside me, so I take the pain in silence.”

    Amolo’s words lay bare the profound personal cost of period poverty and societal stigma, highlighting the urgent need for interventions that offer not just products, but dignity, knowledge, and empowerment to end this cycle of unspoken suffering.

     

    

    Hands-on empowerment! Her Worth Foundation’s instructor shows the way to dignified, sustainable menstrual health with reusable pads.

     

    In this community, menstruation is often shrouded in harmful myths and deep-seated stigma, extending far beyond a simple lack of products. Girls here frequently face beliefs that their periods make them impure or unclean, leading to social isolation from daily routine, religious ceremonies, or even contact with family members. Dangerous misconceptions persist, such as menstrual blood possessing harmful properties, or the idea that menstruation signifies a girl’s immediate “readiness for marriage.”

    These pervasive myths fuel immense fear and shame, hindering open discussion and preventing girls from seeking the accurate information and support they desperately need. This cultural silence, compounded by taboos around hygienic practices like sun-drying reusable cloths, severely impacts girls’ physical health, mental well-being, and their fundamental right to education, perpetuating their quiet burden.

     

    

    Amolo, a confident learner, takes the lead, explaining the best ways to care for reusable sanitary pads to her peers, with Dr. Annah observing.

     

    Recognizing this profound challenge, our team then initiated a comprehensive session on Menstrual Health & Hygiene and Life Skills Education. When our team of facilitators from Gulu Disabled Persons Organization and Her Worth Foundation began the session, there was an initial hesitation, but as we started to speak openly about menstruation, a palpable sense of relief spread through the room. We systematically demystified the menstrual cycle and the female reproductive system, actively busting prevalent myths that have historically condemned girls to isolation.

    As the chain was broken, you could see the girls visibly relax, with many sharing their own experiences for the first time. Replacing unfounded fears with scientific facts and equipping them with practical hygiene practices, self-care strategies, and crucial life skills such as self-esteem, communication, and boundary-setting, the program fostered an environment where girls could normalize their physiological processes and navigate puberty with confidence.

    This pivotal step aims to dismantle the barriers that force girls into bearing their burdens alone. This single day, through open dialogue and practical skills, truly marked a turning point, transforming a burden into an embrace of self-awareness and dignity for the girlchild of Tochi Primary School.

     

    

    After comprehensive training from Her Worth Foundation, these dedicated pupils are now proudly stitching their own reusable sanitary pads.

     

    The training then transitioned to an introduction to Reusable Sanitary Pad Making, transforming a simple craft into a powerful tool for self-sufficiency and a tangible solution to period poverty.

    Through step-by-step demonstrations by Her Worth Foundation, girls learned to craft sustainable menstrual products using readily available local materials, illustrating that empowerment isn’t contingent on expensive, imported goods. This hands-on approach directly addresses the lack of access that leaves them enduring in isolation, the practical session was a profound moment of engagement, as participants independently stitched their own pads, igniting a sense of accomplishment and pride.

    Crucially, detailed instruction on the care and maintenance of reusable pads were provided to ensure longevity, optimal hygiene, and continued safety, offering a practical pathway out of unspoken pain.

     

    

    Every stitch tells a story of newfound capability!  They’re not just making pads; they’re actively shaping a more independent and sustainable future for themselves.

     

    The transformation at Tochi Primary is merely a beginning. While Amolo and her peers now stand taller, equipped with knowledge and tools, countless other girls across the region continue their daily battle against period poverty and deeply ingrained stigma, silently enduring. Their dignity, education, and futures hang in the balance.

    Will you answer their quiet plea for support? Will you support us break more chains of silence and empower every girl to embrace her natural cycle with pride? The journey to widespread menstrual equity is long, but with you, we can rewrite the narrative for thousands of girls and ignite their dreams. As their whispers fade to silence, their pain amplifies!

63. Tying Up Loose Threads: Her Worth

    July 27, 2025 9:50 am 2 Comments

    One final objective came into focus as the summer drew to a close. This week, the GDPO launched a promising new partnership with the Her Worth Foundation, kicking off a pilot program designed to tackle one of the most persistent barriers to girls’ education in northern Uganda: menstrual stigma.

    

    At Tochi Primary, we packed the older girls into one classroom for Her Worth to provide the information

    Together, we’re bringing hands-on training and open conversation into the schools in our network. The program doesn’t just teach girls how to make reusable pads—it gives them the knowledge, confidence, and community support to reclaim their education and dignity. By providing practical skills and opening a space to talk about menstruation without shame, the Her Worth Foundation is helping girls stay in school and take ownership of their bodies and futures.

    

    Going over the anatomical process of menstruation

    For many of the students, this is the first time anyone has talked to them openly about menstruation. For us, it’s the beginning of a broader effort to create school environments that support girls not just academically, but holistically.

    

    Myself – getting in on the fun, helping the girls cut out the fabric to make the reusable pads

    This initiative is a small step with the potential for deep, generational impact and we’re proud to help set it in motion.

    

    The P-7 (eldest grade) girls with their completed pads, with myself and a member of Her Worth

     

    For an in-depth profile of the Her Worth foundation check out this post from my GDPO partner Joe : [https://www.advocacynet.org/our-potential-is-not-a-negotiation]

64. “Our Potential is Not a Negotiation!!”

    July 25, 2025 11:35 am 14 Comments

    “Our potential is not a negotiation” said Monica Prudence, the founder and Executive director at Her Worth Foundation, more than a leader, Monica is a formidable girl child rights’ activist and a dynamic force for change in Gulu City. Her unwavering dedication to empowering underprivileged girls stems from a deep personal understanding of their struggles and an unshakeable belief in every girl’s inherent worth.

    The Foundation’s genesis in 2021 was a courageous, direct response to the devastating surge in teenage pregnancies following the COVID-19 pandemic. ‘As a university student at the time, i recognized that poverty, often intertwined with the lack of menstrual hygiene resources, trapped girls in cycles of vulnerability’ This ignited her mission: to provide not just immediate relief, but comprehensive, long-term solutions that champion every aspect of a girl’s well-being. “We are deeply committed to ensuring no girl is left behind in our pursuit of empowerment.” Prudence continued, “this is where the power of proper menstrual health management becomes a cornerstone of empowerment, ensuring girls can remain in school, dignified and confident.”

    

    Monica Prudence, The Director Her Worth Foundation Empower School going Girls and Boys on Menstrual Health and Danger of Stigma on Girls.

    With a strong leadership, Her Worth Foundation champions vital initiatives that transcend basic provision. We focus on transformative menstrual health management to shatter stigma and significantly reduce school absenteeism. Our innovative approach includes the local production and distribution of eco-friendly, reusable pads, fostering sustainable solutions and teaching girls’ invaluable self-sufficiency skills. Crucial mentorship and life skills training cultivate self-worth, self-awareness, and confidence, empowering girls to make informed decisions about their lives and bodies. Monica’s advocacy extends from community grassroots to national policy, where she is a fervent voice for accountability, pushing for sustainable government programs that prioritize menstrual hygiene and reduce reliance on external funding.

    The impact of their work is profound and measurable. Thousands of girls have gained access to essential products and training, demonstrating enhanced self-confidence and a significant reduction in school absenteeism. Pivotal events like the Annual Menstrual Hygiene Run in Gulu City amplify awareness and actively confront teenage pregnancy, further cementing our belief that our potential is not a negotiation.

    

    Hon. Member of Parliament for Gulu City, Betty Aol Ocan attending Gulu Menstrual Run Organized by Her Worth Foundation.

    Her Worth Foundation is dedicated to forging a brighter future for underprivileged girls and women by championing education, reproductive health, and capacity-building. Our mission is to uplift every girl by enhancing her self-worth, improving her education, and securing better health outcomes. ‘We envision a world where every girl possesses the confidence, resources, and opportunities to achieve her full potential’, said Dr. Annah Oyat, (co-founder) This vision perfectly aligned with our commitment to gender equity, youth empowerment, and sustainable development. Our core values—equity, integrity, sustainability, and community-centricity—are woven into every program, from prioritizing the most vulnerable and transparent reporting to fostering long-term impact through reusable products and deep community engagement, Dr. Annah believes that ‘comprehensive approach to community engagement, from dialogues to peer educators, is critical to building lasting trust with the community’.

    

    The Menstrual Hygiene Run that Happens Yearly Attract Participants from all Over the Country.

    Their program impact is meticulously measurable. “In 2024, we distributed over 2,000 reusable pads across three counties, resulting in a remarkable 32% reduction in menstrual-related absenteeism in our partner schools. Over 30 school outreaches successfully reached 12,000 girls, with an inspiring 87% reporting increased self-confidence post-program”. Currently active in Northern and parts of Eastern Uganda, Her worth foundation is set for an exciting pilot extension into rural Uganda in 2025, driven by the conviction that our potential is not a negotiation. Her Worth Foundation ensures robust transparency through annual impact reports and accessible financial summaries. our financial health is fortified by a diverse funding model, including individual donations, grants, a social enterprise selling reusable pads, and successful crowdfunding. We maintain a 6-month operating cost reserve fund and prioritize sustainability through local pad production and diversified revenue, ensuring our long-term impact.

    

    Happy and Trained Community Girls who are School drop out with their Menstrual Product from Her Worth Foundation. 

    Her worth foundation boasts a strong history of impactful collaborations with organizations like UNFPA, the Swedish Embassy, and Period Talk Uganda, leading to co-hosted campaigns and the integration of Menstrual Hygiene Management (MHM) curriculum. Our collaboration philosophy seeks value-aligned partners offering technical, financial, or logistical support, clearly defined by MOUs. We engage our community through WhatsApp updates, social media, and vital community dialogues, securing buy-in from local leaders and leveraging peer educators to build trust.

    Despite navigating challenges like supply chain disruptions impacting pad material costs, pervasive stigma around menstruation, and limited digital M&E tools, Her Worth Foundation is boldly advancing its strategic plans for 2025-2027. “We aim to expand our reach nationwide, establish two regional pad production hubs, and pilot a mobile health education app specifically for teenagers, all while growing our annual budget to $150,000. We are actively seeking partnerships in digital health, WASH infrastructure, mental health, climate change advocacy (gender-related), and fundraising expertise”. Prudence concluded, As a legally registered organization, they ensures full accountability, because for Her Worth Foundation? “Our Potential is Not a Negotiation!!”

65. Beginning Stitches: A New Chapter in AP’s Collaboration with Bardiya Embroiderers

    6:08 am 2 Comments

    On July 15, our first day in Bardiya, we met with a group of embroiderers from Thakurbaba Municipality. It was early morning, but the day’s heat had already begun to arrive. The whole group of us – embroiderers Kushma, Kanchan, Nita, and Binita, and our team (Niraj, Ram, Laila, Shuyuan, and myself) sat around a long wooden table under the shade of our homestay’s porch. Our conversation would be situated within a long history of collaboration.

    AP has been working with Kushma and Kanchan’s group for the last decade. They began in 2015 with a memorialization project, connected to the group through NEFAD, Ram’s organization. Using a model they’ve implemented with various groups from around the world, AP facilitated an embroidery training and eventual creation of two quilts telling the women’s stories of family members who were disappeared during the conflict. Both quilts became tools for advocacy; one remained in Nepal and was used by NEFAD and the second was exhibited at a UN Summit.

    You can read more about the memorial quilts here.

    With AP’s help, the group later moved on to tiger designs — embroidery that was used both for quilts as well as bags, an initiative that they hoped would help generate some income. A central deity representing courage and strength in the Tharu culture, the tigers resonated with the women’s stories. In this way the project linked memorialization and storytelling with income generation, new ground for AP.

    You can read more about the tiger quilts and bags here and find their most recent designs for sale here.

     

    

    Kanchan and Kushma hold up a tiger quilt to show Laila and my group when we met with them in January

     

    Our meeting this morning was the start of a new project and while our conversation was pragmatic, an atmosphere of excitement couldn’t help but take hold.

    “AP is eager to continue working with you,” I began. “It sounds like you all are interested in running another training and we have a couple ideas for projects that could come out of it.”

    The four women sat in a line. Kushma wore a white silk scarf with embroidered flowers draped across her chest. Binita sat on the edge, leaning on the arm of Nita’s chair. They shared glances and some words in Tharu. Niraj translated my words and they smiled, nodding and leaning forward. He turned back to me, “Yes, they want to hear.”

    I smiled back and nodded, the kind of unspoken communication that awkwardly attempts to make up for the language barrier.

    Pulling out a bag, I handed over some tea towels with butterfly designs, the product of a collaboration between Women in Action for Women in Uganda and AP. “This is what we are hoping to do with your festival designs,” I explained, referring to a set of embroidery they had completed earlier this year. “If you run a training with the Tharu Women’s Association, you could ask women to create more of the festival patterns or subjects on another theme and we’d create more tea towels. It’s not guaranteed they’d sell, but we’d do our best.”

    Niraj translated and they all nodded.

    “The other idea,” I continued, “is a Sister Artists Auction. We ran one with the Ugandan butterfly designs with some success earlier this summer. This is a much longer process, but you’d need to select a theme and produce around 30 pieces of embroidery on that subject. We’d give those to quilters in the US and Canada, AP’s contacts, who would make them into quilts. These would be displayed at the textile museum in DC and then auctioned off online.”

    All the while I was talking, they were exchanging small conversation in Tharu, sharing looks, a nod, a smile. Kushma gently stroked Nita’s neck. Binita rested her hand on Nita’s arm. I did not know what was being said, but recognized that intimate form of communication and care shared by groups of women everywhere.

    Niraj translated my latest spiel, and a smile spread across Kanchan’s face. She looked at Kushma. Binita leaned in. It was clear they found that idea appealing.

    We spent the next half an hour or so fleshing out some details. I scrolled through the latest Sister Artists auction site with them, we threw around some theme ideas, and discussed supplies (we had brought embroidery hoops and thread generously donated by quilters in the US, but new needles were also needed — theirs had become much too dull to produce high quality embroidery.) A training, they explained, couldn’t happen right away. It’s a busy time of year and there isn’t enough interest. But they’d like to get started on the project as a group and they’ll talk with friends. Maybe when others see the work they’re doing, they’ll want to learn, they explained. Then they could organize a training and bring others into the project. For now, they’ll have to start at 4.

    That much embroidery is quite the undertaking for a group of four, I worried out loud.

    They laughed, looking at one another. Turning to me, Kushma explained, “embroidery is our time to relax.”

    Our business-like conversation folded over into small talk as we sipped on milk tea, but eventually we concluded: they’d start brainstorming themes, I’d talk to Iain, our team will look into buying more needles, and, if all goes well, there will be a stack of embroidery for me to take back to the states at the end of September.

     

    

    Our group met on the porch of our Bardiya homestay. In the back from left to right: Niraj, Kanchan, Kushma, Nita, Binita. Front from left to right: Shuyuan, Laila, me.

66. Highway Boys Secondary School Gets Ready for the Red Wriggler Revolution

    July 23, 2025 3:53 am 1 Comment

    Close to Our Lady of Mercy, Highway Boys Secondary School is an all boy’s public boarding school that hosts almost 1,200 students. It will be the site of one of four additional composting projects in schools across Nairobi. Now at the beginning of its waste management journey, Highway Boys Secondary hosts significant potential to transform the school grounds through Shield of Faith’s project!

    At our initial site visit, Teacher Moraa, the Environment Club patron, greeted us with lots of excitement about the new project. She has visited the composting project at Our Lady of Mercy and believes that in partnership with Shield of Faith, the school can experience a mindset change towards environmental sustainability and better waste management practices. She says the boys are especially excited about the vermiculture aspect of composting and that they can’t wait to work with the red wriggler worms.

    When asked about their current waste management system, Teacher Moraa explained that the school’s trash is currently burned in a plot near the boys’ recreational field where they play football and other sports. There’s not currently a system in place for food waste sorting or organic farming, but Stella and the teachers are confident this is the perfect blank canvas to start.

    Teacher Moraa explains the school’s current dumping and waste management process. 

    We discussed the site of the composting project with Teacher Moraa and Teacher Evelyn, who teaches agriculture at the school. Stella and the teachers agreed that the best site to begin the composting project is at the unused shamba the agriculture class once used for projects. It sits on one side of the school’s property, tucked behind the cow barn (which is great for fertilizer!) and the principal’s property. Teacher Evelyn explained that the school will need to level the area and build a fence along the perimeter  to make it accessible.

    Teacher Evelyn describing the shamba.

    The school’s shamba sits empty (and maybe slightly overgrown), ready for tower gardens, raised beds, composting bins, and vermiculture stations to be installed.

    

    The future shamba and composting site for Boys Highway Secondary School. The school will need to clear the site and build a fence before the compost and vermiculture bins, tower gardens, garden plots, and handwashing station can be constructed.

     

    The next step is for Shield of Faith to submit a master plan and blueprint to the school that will describe the composting site and Shield of Faith’s project activities. The school will use this plan to order supplies and begin prepping the shamba for use. 

    Our Lady of Mercy and Highway Boys Secondary represent schools in very different phases of Shield of Faith’s composting programs. At Our Lady of Mercy, composting is part of the routine and at Highway Boys Secondary, the work is just beginning. But both schools are part of the same culture shift toward better food and waste management systems, smarter use of resources, and more resilient communities.

67. Meeting the Từ Family

    July 22, 2025 2:51 pm 1 Comment

    The Từ family are midway through lunch when we arrive, gathered around a low wooden table in comfortable silence. Elbows press close as chopsticks reach into shared plates of vegetables, moving with the quiet rhythm of a midday meal.

    It’s a humid afternoon in Quảng Kim commune, the kind where the air hangs heavy and clings to your skin. Our team has come to visit Từ Đình Cứ, a second-generation victim of Agent Orange, to hear his story. His family is one of two that AP and AEPD are hoping to support in this year’s fundraising appeal. (You can read about the other family, Giả Thanh Kiểm’s, here.)

     

    AP and AEPD have partnered for over a decade to support families affected by Agent Orange in rural Quảng Bình province. More than 19,000 Agent Orange-affected families have been documented in the region, many of whom live in remote, low-income communities with limited access to healthcare, stable income, or disability support.

    The AP/AEPD program focuses on amplifying the voices of victims and caregivers, raising funds for income-generating investments such as livestock, and helping families develop sustainable livelihood strategies with the guidance of AEPD’s outreach workers. This year’s campaign seeks to raise $2,000 to support two new families: the Giả family and the Từ family. Each will receive tailored support, primarily through breeding livestock, based on their needs and capacities. These investments aim not only to ease immediate hardship but to help families build long-term stability and independence.

    

    Từ Đình Cứ is a second-generation child of Agent Orange. His father was directly exposed to dioxin during the Vietnam War, and like many children born after the war, Cứ lives with chronic health issues and disabilities. He is partially blind, has limited mobility in his left arm, spinal problems, and a speech impairment. His son also shows signs of poisoning and is severely underdeveloped, weighing only 28 kilograms (61 pounds) at fourteen. Chronic pain and physical weakness also prevent Cứ from performing the strenuous labor required in farming. As a result, his wife, Lợi, carries the burden of both caregiving and physical labor in the household.

    “The family makes around 9 million VND a year through farming,” Lợi explains. That’s the equivalent of just $343 annually, or about $28.50 per month to cover the family’s living expenses. In addition, the Từ family receives a monthly allowance of 1,600,000 VND ($61) for Agent Orange victims.

    To make ends meet, Lợi often takes on freelance work alongside caregiving and farm labor – cooking for local events, weeding neighbors’ fields, or cleaning houses whenever the opportunity arises. At most, she can earn up to 2 million VND ($76) a month, nearly all of which, she says, goes toward her children’s school fees and education.

    When I ask what kinds of support they hope for, Lợi doesn’t hesitate. Families like hers, she says, would greatly benefit from more targeted assistance for Agent Orange victims and those with severe disabilities, especially programs that offer medical care, home repairs, or income-generating opportunities like livestock. 

    

    Over the past decade, AP and AEPD have supported families in launching small, sustainable livelihoods tailored to their needs. Some choose to raise pigs, chickens, or fish. Others opt for breeding livestock like buffalo or cows. A few start small businesses, making fish sauce or offering local services. The model isn’t one-size-fits-all. Families decide what makes the most sense for them, and AEPD outreach workers help shape a plan that is realistic, gradual, and grounded in long-term stability.

    But livelihood support alone doesn’t account for the environmental challenges that continue to bear down on families like the Cứ’s. Inside the Từ family home, the walls bear the long-term scars of exposure. The roof above offers little protection. During heavy rains, water leaks through, dripping onto the furniture and pooling on the floors. The paint has peeled back in wide, uneven patches, revealing the raw concrete beneath. Deep cracks stretch down from the corners, tracing the paths where water seeps in during the rainy season. Makeshift wiring hangs loosely from nails on the wall. A damp, earthy smell lingers in the air, a reminder that water has pooled here before and will likely return with the next storm. 

     

    .

    The current structure offers little protection against what’s to come. And for families like Cứ’s, where disability limits mobility, the consequences of each storm stretch far beyond the immediate damage. Evacuation becomes more difficult. Recovery, slower. The burden, heavier.

    This year’s support for the Từ family will focus on both livelihood and shelter. The family has chosen to raise a breeding cow, an investment that costs around 18.5 million VND (about $700 USD). Any remaining funds will go toward urgent home repairs, such as reinforcing the walls, securing the roof, and improving flood protection. They offer families like the Từ’s a home that is not only lived in, but safe to live in.

    

    

68. Thakurbaba’s Model for Grassroots Reparation in Nepal

    July 21, 2025 2:14 pm 2 Comments

    In a country still healing from the wounds of a decade-long armed conflict (1996–2006), reparations often evoke images of courtroom verdicts, international funding, or national commissions. But in Thakurbaba Municipality, nestled at the edge of Bardiya National Park, reparative justice is unfolding at the grassroots — with local government taking meaningful steps to meet the needs of conflict victims and survivors. Their example shows what is possible when political will, constitutional empowerment, and community engagement align.

    Why Local Matters

    Bardiya is among the districts most severely affected by Nepal’s conflict, with thousands of victims from both state and Maoist forces. Thakurbaba — the second most affected municipality in the district — has decided not to wait for Kathmandu to solve everything. Instead, Mayor Tilak Ram Lamsal and Deputy Mayor Bina Kumari Bhattarai have embraced their constitutional authority under Nepal’s 2015 Constitution to drive social development and prioritize conflict-affected populations.

    Unlike short-term or one-off support schemes, Thakurbaba’s approach is structural. As the deputy mayor put it, “This is not just an individual-based project. The system and structure need to institutionalize the policy so it will remain — not just a one-time thing with temporary effect.”

    This philosophy resonates deeply with Nepal’s constitutional framework. Under Schedules 8 and 9 of the 2015 Constitution, local governments have clear mandates over education, health, social welfare, and cultural promotion — all vital domains for reparative justice. Thakurbaba has used this authority boldly and creatively.

    

    In Thakurbaba, we met with the Mayor and Deputy Mayor to discuss local justice and reparation initiatives.

    A Reparative Agenda Rooted in Social Development

    What sets Thakurbaba apart is its integrated approach: reparative priorities are embedded within broader social development programs. This includes:

    • Education: Within four months of taking office, the municipality declared secondary education free. A selection committee prioritizes conflict victims in allocating scholarships.
    • Health: The local hospital has been upgraded to provide both physical and psychosocial health services. In partnership with the Centre for Mental Health and Counselling, supported by the Swiss government, free mental health counselling and shuttle transport are now available. While these services were initially intended for conflict victims, they have since been expanded to serve the general public, including but not limited to those affected by the conflict.
    • Livelihood Support: Conflict victims are provided with access to skill training programs and included in broader agricultural and income-generating initiatives. They also receive special reservation or priority in these opportunities.
    • Budget Commitment: An extraordinary 52% of the municipal budget is allocated to social development — a testament to political commitment.

    Crucially, all these efforts are policy-driven and institutional, not merely ad hoc. Conflict victims — regardless of whether they suffered at the hands of the state or Maoist forces — are recognized as a unified group in the municipality’s planning and programming. This helps heal historic divisions and promotes social cohesion.

    

    Psychosocial counsellors in Thakurbaba shared insights into their community-based mental health support.

    Shared Responsibility: Local and Federal Roles

    The municipality’s work does not eliminate the federal government’s responsibility — it redefines it. As outlined in Nepal’s Constitution, local governments have direct power over grassroots implementation, while the federal government is responsible for funding flows, national frameworks, and coordination.

    Thakurbaba’s example shows the complementarity in this relationship. Local governments can tailor responses to the lived realities of victims — such as caste-based discrimination or trauma-induced poverty — while federal policies can standardize rights and allocate sufficient resources to ensure consistency across the country.

    For example, the call for victim registration in Thakurbaba is not just about tracking numbers. It’s about building a local database that can feed into national reparations mechanisms, identify needs, and streamline benefits. Yet, without a clear federal reparation law or national registry, these efforts risk being under-supported or fragmented.

    Political Will: The Human Factor

    Much of Thakurbaba’s success stems from strong and sincere leadership. Both Mayor Lamsal and Deputy Mayor Bhattarai have deep experience in social development and an evident personal commitment. The mayor has gone so far as to donate his own government salary to establish a community fund for social development to help the underprivileged.

    But what happens in municipalities where such leadership is absent?

    This is where replication strategies matter. Strong local initiatives like Thakurbaba’s should be documented, publicized, and used to influence national frameworks. NGOs, donors, and federal authorities can play a key role in scaling these models, providing technical support, and incentivizing other municipalities to follow suit — even where political will is not as strong.

    Reconciliation and Justice at the Local Level
    Thakurbaba has shown that reconciliation need not be confined to courtrooms. Through its Judicial Committee, chaired by Deputy Mayor Bina Kumari Bhattarai, the municipality emphasizes local mediation and restorative justice. Although the committee lacks formal judicial authority, it plays an active role in resolving everyday disputes and promoting peaceful coexistence within the community. The committee includes representatives from each ward as well as members of victims’ families, who serve directly as local mediators—ensuring both inclusivity and trust in the process.

    This grassroots justice mechanism complements national transitional justice institutions by offering a community-based model that is immediate, accessible, and culturally grounded.

    Looking Forward: From Bardiya to Nepal

    Thakurbaba’s story offers an important lesson: transitional justice is not the sole domain of national commissions or international tribunals. Local governments — empowered by the constitution and driven by moral clarity — can and should lead the charge.

    To scale this model, three actions are essential:

    1. Codify Best Practices: Develop a national framework for local reparations based on successful examples like Thakurbaba.
    2. Coordinate Across Levels: Ensure that federal policies and funding mechanisms support and recognize local initiatives.
    3. Empower Other Municipalities: Provide training, documentation, and peer exchange programs to encourage replication across Nepal’s 753 local governments.

    As Nepal’s transitional justice process continues to stall at the national level, municipalities like Thakurbaba remind us that healing and dignity need not wait. When victim groups are mobilized, communities are empowered, reconciliation is not only possible — it is already happening.

    

    Meeting with the Mayor and Deputy Mayor in Thakurbaba Municipality.

69. From Grief to Action: CVC’s Journey in Bardiya

    1:59 pm 1 Comment

    A Wounded District: Bardiya’s Burden of the Past

    Nestled along Nepal’s western plains bordering India, Bardiya District is a land of fertile soil, dense jungle, and a resilient people. But beneath its quiet fields lies a history of pain. During Nepal’s 1996–2006 internal armed conflict, Bardiya became one of the most severely affected districts in the country—particularly for the Tharu indigenous community, which makes up over 52% of the district’s population.

    According to the Commission of Investigation on Enforced Disappeared Persons (CIEDP), Bardiya holds the highest recorded number of enforced disappearances in Nepal—239 cases. Over 70% of the disappeared were Tharu. A 2008 OHCHR report documented 156 of these cases and found that over 85% of the victims were Tharus, with state security forces responsible for at least 75% of the disappearances. Entire families were left in the dark as sons, daughters, fathers, and mothers vanished—never to return. (Source: Bardiya Tharus wait for justice – The Record)

    The underlying reason? Many young Tharus joined or were suspected of supporting the Maoist rebels, who promised an end to systemic marginalization and feudal oppression. According to Bhagiram Chaudhary, president of the Conflict Victims’ Committee (CVC), “More than 80 percent of the Maoist combatants in Bardiya were Tharu youths. And the state began to treat all Tharus as Maoists.” (Source: Bardiya Tharus wait for justice – The Record)

    The result was systemic violence, arbitrary arrests, torture, rape, and disappearances—targeted particularly at rural, indigenous populations. After the war ended in 2006, Bardiya was left with deep wounds and unanswered questions. It has since remained a symbol of both state neglect and grassroots resistance.

    Bardiya today comprises eight municipalities: Gulariya (District HQ), Rajapur, Badhaiyatal, Barbardiya, Madhuwan, Thakurbaba, Geruwa, Bansgadhi.

    Each of these municipalities has a local conflict victims’ committee, and together they form the backbone of the CVC’s district-wide operations—making Bardiya a unique pilot site for transitional justice implementation in Nepal.

    Bridging the Void: Doing the Government’s Work

    While Nepal’s transitional justice process has faltered, Bardiya’s victims—led by the CVC—have taken charge. Formed in 2006 by victims and for victims, the CVC is now the largest conflict victims’ organization in Bardiya, with networks across all municipalities.

    In the vacuum left by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) and CIEDP—both of which were formed in 2015 and later dissolved without fulfilling their mandates—the CVC stepped in. It has visited every village in the district, collecting accurate, updated, and disaggregated data on survivors’ needs, from conflict-related sexual violence (CRSV) to livelihood challenges. This is not merely symbolic; this data has been handed to the government and has directly informed local reparation programs.

    Recently, 20 conflict-affected families received monetary support—a collaboration between the CVC and local municipalities—demonstrating the power of community-led planning and delivery.

    A Victim-Led Vision for Reparation

    The CVC has developed a dynamic reparation framework that evolves in response to the changing needs of victims and their families. In the years immediately following the conflict, the primary concerns were, for example, scholarships for children. Today, as widows age and children reach adulthood, those needs have shifted. The current priorities include social security for the elderly, access to healthcare, skill training and employment opportunities for youth, and meaningful memorialization efforts.

    The CVC is building a municipality-by-municipality needs assessment, with five local governments already formulating tailored reparation policies. Its long-term goal is to compare these models, creating a blueprint for a wider reparation strategy rooted in local realities.

    Tackling Conflict-Related Sexual Violence: Quiet Power, Ethical Care

    CRSV remains one of the least documented yet most traumatic legacies of Nepal’s war. In Bardiya, as elsewhere, women survivors face deep stigma, especially in rural communities. The CVC approaches CRSV with respect for agency and privacy. It does not pressure women to disclose their experiences but creates an environment where disclosure is safe and voluntary.

    In 19 years of work, Chaudhary recalls only one woman who came forward to share her story—alongside her husband. “That tells you how difficult it is,” he says. “Sexual violence is not just a war-time issue—it’s embedded in our society.”

    The CVC is approaching CRSV with deep sensitivity, recognizing the complexity and stigma survivors face, especially in rural areas. Their position is clear: survivors must have the freedom to choose whether to share their stories or not, and their privacy and security must be protected. The CVC believes that CRSV cases should be documented in history books—not to pressure survivors to speak, but to ensure that these violations are not erased. From a human rights perspective, they emphasize the need for social security guarantees so that survivors can feel safe, supported, and free from consequences if they choose to come forward. Even if survivors do not speak publicly, they must still be included in reparation processes.

    This rights-based but trauma-informed approach reflects a rare combination of international human rights norms and local cultural sensitivity.

    Justice as a Living Concept

    When engaging with survivors, the CVC always begins with a fundamental question: “What does justice mean to you?” The responses are rarely focused on punishment. Instead, they often focus on:

    • Truth: “We just want to know what happened.”
    • Support: “We need health services and job opportunities.”
    • Inclusion: “We want our pain to be acknowledged.”

    In today’s Nepali society, there is no longer enmity between the political parties—the society has, in many ways, already healed at that level. But for families of the disappeared, true healing still depends on knowing what happened to their loved ones. At the personal level, the pain remains, and what they seek now is truth, recognition, and the dignity that has long been denied.

    From Memory to Movement

    The CVC is not only focused on the present. It is also shaping how Nepal remembers the war. A Peace Memorial Park is being planned in Bardiya to honor all the conflict victims including the disappeared. Statues will represent every missing person, and the park will serve as a public archive and community space. A bulletin is also being developed to share the stories of victims—not just for policymakers, but for future generations, so that the state’s silence is not the only version of history.

    Conclusion: When the People Lead

    Bardiya is more than a war-torn district. It is a laboratory of people-powered justice, and the CVC is its most vital institution. Through data collection, advocacy, reparation planning, and healing work, it has done what no government commission has achieved.

    Nepal’s state institutions must learn from Bardiya: victims are not just stakeholders to be consulted—they are the authors of justice. And justice, in Nepal’s case, will not come from the center. It begins at the margins, where the pain was deepest, and where people like those in the CVC have never stopped fighting to be seen, heard, and remembered.

    

    Our meeting with Bhagiram Chaudhary took place in Bardiya on July 16.

70. “Bipin Revolutionary”: A Father’s Fight for the Enforced Disappeared in Nepal

    1:50 pm 1 Comment

    On a June night in 2002, 21-year-old Bipin Bhandari was forcibly taken by security forces from his hiding place in Kathmandu. He has never returned. His father, Ekraj Bhandari—a constitutional lawyer and human rights advocate—has been searching for him ever since.

    This is not just a story of disappearance. It is a story of conviction, of political awakening, and of one father’s tireless pursuit of justice for families like his—families of Nepal’s disappeared.

    Who Is Bipin?

    “Bipin Revolutionary.” That’s what they called him.

    To his father, Bipin was more than a nickname—he was a son to be proud of. Born in Nepal’s rural Salyan district, Bipin moved to Kathmandu to study science, where he quickly distinguished himself as a brilliant student. He never relied on his family’s financial support, earning scholarships through academic excellence. But it wasn’t just his intellect that set him apart—it was his voice. A gifted speaker and writer, Bipin had a sharp political consciousness that far exceeded his years.

    While studying, Bipin quietly became involved in student politics. Without his family’s knowledge, he rose to a leadership position in the largest student association at the time—the student wing of the underground Maoist party. His prominence eventually made headlines, surprising even his politically active father. But to those who knew him, it wasn’t a shock. “He had a convincing style in his speech,” Ekraj recalls. “He never needed to be told what to do—he grew into himself, naturally.”

    When the first ceasefire was declared in 2002, Bipin emerged from hiding to organize public political events aimed at reconciliation. He believed the Maoist agenda—rooted in structural reform and social justice—deserved a place in open democratic debate. But when the ceasefire collapsed and the government resumed its crackdown, he was forced underground once more.

    In May 2002, state security forces came to the Bhandari home at night. They pointed a pistol at Ekraj’s head and threatened his wife, demanding she produce Bipin within a week. At the time, Bipin was in hiding somewhere in Kathmandu.

    A month later, he was forcibly disappeared.

    

    At the far left of the banner is an image of Bipin.

    A Father’s Search, A Movement Born

    Bipin’s disappearance marked a turning point—not only in Ekraj’s personal life but in Nepal’s human rights movement.

    At the time, Ekraj was already a prominent figure in Nepal’s legal community, serving as a central committee member of the Nepal Bar Association and general secretary of its human rights wing. He had long used his platform to advocate for constitutional reform, often echoing demands for structural change voiced by the Maoists. But when his own son was taken, advocacy became personal—and urgent.

    Despite his legal standing and political connections, Ekraj found every door closed. “They feared that if I knew where Bipin was, I’d get him out,” he says. The disappearance had been calculated. Only a few people knew Bipin’s location. Some of them were arrested, tortured, and forced to divulge information. The special task force responsible reported directly to the King. Their primary targets were not just any activists, but high-profile ideological leaders like Bipin.

    But Ekraj refused to be silenced. He filed a habeas corpus petition at the Supreme Court. He co-founded the Society of Families of the Disappeared by the State—one of Nepal’s first and largest victims’ networks. He collaborated with the ICRC, the United Nations, Amnesty International, and bar associations worldwide, becoming a legal and moral voice for hundreds of families who, like his own, were denied truth and justice.

    Even under direct threat, Ekraj kept organizing. During the second ceasefire in 2003, when pressure escalated once again, he went underground for three years in far-western Nepal. There, he continued his work—training both victims’ families and Maoist cadres in international human rights law. His wife remained above ground, coordinating support programs for survivors.

    What began as a father’s desperate search for his son became the foundation of a movement for truth, accountability, and memory in Nepal.

    

    Ekraj speaks at the annual commemoration for the forcibly disappeared; a photo of his son Bipin, who was forcibly disappeared in 2002, appears at the bottom left.

    Legal Struggles and Political Frustration

    Ekraj has submitted three major writ petitions on enforced disappearance to the Supreme Court:

    • In 1999, acting as legal counsel for families of the disappeared.
    • In 2003, filing a second case, in which the Court reaffirmed its 1999 decision.
    • In 2007, leading to a landmark ruling that directed the government to:
      1. Amend domestic laws to align with international human rights standards;
      2. Establish a truth commission specifically addressing enforced disappearances;
      3. Reimburse the legal travel expenses of the 84 petitioning families.

    Even this modest third point has not been fulfilled. “This is not even about reparations,” Ekraj notes. “It’s just about covering the cost of the lawsuit.”

    In 2008, he was elected to the Constituent Assembly (CA) to draft a new constitution, fulfilling one of the central promises of the 2006 Comprehensive Peace Accord (CPA). He played a critical role in pushing transitional justice onto the Assembly’s agenda. Yet, political deadlock between established and emerging forces led to the CA’s dissolution without delivering a constitution.

    A second CA was elected in 2013, and after protracted negotiations, the new Constitution was finally promulgated in September 2015. But for Ekraj, this was no victory. The final version, he says, bore little resemblance to the draft he had helped shape. Key provisions on justice and accountability were weakened or discarded. “It was a political compromise, not a people’s constitution,” he reflects.

    Though the final amendment fell far short of the transformative vision many, including Ekraj, had worked toward, the Constitution did introduce some notable advancements—such as the formal recognition of socio-economic rights, provisions for inclusion of marginalized groups, and commitments to federalism. Yet despite these gains, the core promises of transitional justice—truth, accountability, and reparations for victims—remain unfulfilled.

    Dysfunctional Commissions, Waning Political Will

    Today, the transitional justice commissions remain mired in dysfunction. The first set was inactive for four years. The current commissions, he says, are no better. “There’s no political will. That’s the core problem.”

    Since the signing of the 2006 Comprehensive Peace Accord, Nepal has seen over 13 different governments. A triangular political structure—two traditional state parties and the Maoists—has led to blame games and paralysis. “No one is willing to take responsibility,” Ekraj explains. “But this is not about individual grievances. This is about national interest. History must remember. The people must remember.”

    Reparation Is More Than Money

    Ekraj’s vision of justice is not just about financial compensation—it’s about dignity.

    “The government prefers donor money,” he says. “They think once they distribute cash, their job is done. But money cannot replace what’s owed.”

    He fears that even donor funds may become a vehicle for corruption, allowing the government to avoid structural reforms. “Instead of offering services—free healthcare, education, legal support—they just hand out money and wash their hands.”

    He recalls a mother who once told him: “All I need is three buffalos. Then I can make a life.” It wasn’t about compensation. It was about survival, about rebuilding. Real reparations require institutional improvements, not short-term handouts.

    Ekraj believes that the international community is listening more directly to victims, and that this is a positive step. But he remains realistic. “Maybe the government will act, under pressure—but it might take 50 years. By then, we’ll all be gone. This generation of families of the disappeared will be gone.”

    A Legacy of Memory and Resistance

    Through all of this, Ekraj has not stopped speaking, organizing, filing, remembering. His story, like Bipin’s, is one of relentless resistance.

    His demands—and those of hundreds of other families—remain the same:
    Tell us where they are.
    Acknowledge what was done.
    Take responsibility for meeting the basic social needs of the families.
    Give us truth through the justice system.

    The struggle continues, not only to find the disappeared, but to force the state to remember them. Bipin, the revolutionary son. Ekraj, the father who refuses to forget.

71. Tending the Garden – A Belated Introduction

    8:50 am 4 Comments

    What does it take to get an idea off the ground? Out of a Zoom conference room, into the real world? 

    To be honest, before I arrived in Kathmandu, I wasn’t too sure. 

    For the past few months, I’d been meeting virtually with an uber-dedicated team of human rights professionals and students: Iain Guest, Dr. Ram Bhandari, and my friend Emma Cohen. Every so often, we’d coordinate across three different time zones to brainstorm projected outcomes and final products for a partnership with the Advocacy Project and Ram’s NEFAD—the Network of Families of the Disappeared, Nepal. 

    Ram had fantastic ideas, and big ones at that. An institute for local and international students offering courses in survivor-led transitional justice, government accountability, memorialization efforts, and all things reparations. A monthly newsletter documenting the latest updates in state transitional justice efforts from a bottom-up, victim oriented perspective. A reparations policy paper, the first official publication from the academic institute, detailing the urgent yet unmet needs of conflict affected persons across Nepal. 

    All of these initiatives are immensely necessary. They fill a niche in Nepal’s current transitional justice landscape, one that tends to be dominated by Kathmandu-based elites prescribing a narrower vision for victim justice. Prosecution of perpetrators, not economic benefits. Politically fraught transitional justice commissions, not free and accessible healthcare facilities. Classification of acceptable bounds of victimhood, not widespread social transformation that uplifts those victims most vulnerable to structural violence. You get the picture—it’s time for a transitional justice reckoning in Nepal, guided foremostly by the perspectives of conflict victims themselves.

    Ram has been working towards this vision for the better half of two decades, tirelessly advocating through local, national, and international forums to achieve justice for conflict victims without compromise. This summer, Emma, PhD researcher Shuyuan Zhang, and I were to join him in making his latest projects a reality.

    It’s one thing to talk and plan and strategize in a meeting. It is quite another to actually kickstart a human rights center. 

    I’m a junior at Wesleyan University. I study government, sociology, and human rights; this stuff is my thing. I’m a relentless hand raiser in my classes, and writing a solid ten-pager on public policy makes me feel electric. But, I’m also nineteen. Iain, in a meeting, once dubbed me the “feisty teenager” of our little group. What good could I possibly contribute to this huge project, driven by a real-world activist who lives and breathes the human rights issues I’d only theorized about with teachers and classmates? How could we help, in small part, make Ram’s hopes real? 

    It’s a temperate Wednesday evening at Roots Cafe, a cute indoor/outdoor resto serving small bites and cold beer. Emma, Shuyuan, project coordinator Niraj and I travelled here by bus to meet Ram, who waves to us from a table outside. Our mission: touch base with Uddhab Pyakurel, an associate professor of political sociology (and now Dean of Arts!) at Kathmandu University, and really sell him on partnering with our emergent Center for Human Rights and Victims of Violations (CHRV). 

    While we wait for him, Ram insists I try the buffalo jerky. It’s gamey and spicey; I like it. 

    At this point, our team has most of our inaugural newsletter drafted: dedicated topical sections fleshed out, different formats tested, and several logo options cooked up on Canva (by yours truly). All that’s left to go is some copy editing and the KU stamp of approval. 

    Uddhab eventually arrives, greeting Ram with a firm pat on the back and a warm smile. They are old friends. He’s got a solid tuft of salt-and-pepper mustache, and kind eyes that crinkle at the corners. The mustache dances as he speaks.

    “Sorry I’m late, I’ve just returned from tending to my vegetable garden.”

    “He’s got an agricultural background,” Ram interjects. “Village people, you know.” 

    Uddhab chuckles in acknowledgement. “Horticulture, and the bath. That’s how I come up with my best ideas.” 

    “What, you’ve never tried both at once?” I crack, in an attempt to break the ice. Uddhab laughs once more, throatily, entertaining my dumb joke. 

    “Well, of course,” he says. “It’s the rainy season. It happens more than you might think.” 

    The table laughs now; it feels casual and uncomplicated. 

    Settling into a rhythm, we all go back and forth with proposals for our Center. Curriculum this, programming that. I turn my computer to Uddhab, scrolling through my logo handiwork. 

    Ram had told me to make it red, the color of revolution. So, I did.  

    The meeting ends on a good note. Uddhab agrees to give CHRV a webpage nestled somewhere in the KU Contemporary Studies website after several newsletter releases; our fledgling partnership is a go.

    In the week or so since our initial chat, we’ve released our inaugural newsletter, and with that, officially launched the CHRV into the world. For real this time. The team is already plotting on our August issue—stay tuned for a fascinating conversation with a former Maoist commander and a memorial park walking tour, among other goodies. 

    Still, Uddhab’s words have stayed with me. Actualizing on an idea is a process, one with ups and downs, much like gardening amid a downpour. You tend to your plants. You pluck the weeds and nurture the roots, hoping for a bountiful harvest. Then, the rain comes. It soaks. It wells up in your boots and squelches in your socks. It’s a process, a muddy one at that. But the germination of something solid, a fruitful reaping—an idea to something real—is well worth the effort.

    The Center and the newsletter’s launch certainly haven’t been without trial. Gmail gave us a whole lotta trouble when trying to set up a dedicated CHRV email account. A mishap over word choice in a profile caused some serious panic. Right now, Emma is at total war with WordPress—more like user unfriendly. 

    But as it happens, gardening in monsoon season is a whole lot easier when there’s a whole group of people working by your side. Ram has spearheaded this whole project. Niraj, the multitalented wonder, translates interviews, writes newsletter content, and sends lengthy Whatsapp messages of encouragement. Shuyuan’s writing is relentlessly sharp; she charms effortlessly in interviews. Emma has a bird’s eye for details and a God given ability to set meeting agendas. Nothing gets past her. 

    CHRV would also not be possible without the many victim groups propelling the survivor’s movement forward, the AP staff and fellows across the globe, and all of those who’ve generously donated their time and insight to make the Center a reality.

    Our first newsletter is out. The Center for Human Rights and Victims of Violations is a go. Ram’s baby! I am so honored and excited to be a part of his vision for transformative social change. I almost can’t believe it, but I sure am happy to be here. 

    It’s not yet time to put down the shears and hoes, but this is how every good idea grows: with patience, good company, and the will to make it happen.

    

    Meeting at Kathmandu University to solidify our partnership!
    From left to right: Uddhab Pyakurel, Dr. Ram Bhandari, Emma Cohen, Laila Azmy (that’s me!), Niraj Acharya, Shuyuan Zhang

72. Meeting the family of Giả Thanh Kiểm

    July 20, 2025 8:35 pm 5 Comments

    My first visit took me to the Quảng Kim Commune to meet the family of Mr. Giả Thanh Kiểm. The commune lies 62 kilometers from the city, about an hour and twenty minutes’ drive from the AEPD office. I set off with Mai, who would be my translator for the field visit to the two families AP and AEPD hoped to support this year. Along the way, we picked up Lưu, the AEPD outreach worker who had first connected with these families. He was full of energy, speaking rapid-fire Vietnamese punctuated by bursts of hearty laughter. His warmth was infectious and reminded me faintly of my dad and uncles in Fuzhou.

    AEPD has three outreach workers, Lưu, Nguyên, and Minh, who are all persons with disabilities similar to the families they work with. Lưu and Nguyên are landmine survivors, while Minh is an Agent Orange victim. Their situated knowledge is central to AEPD’s approach, which values the insight and trust that comes from lived experience. As disability activist Mia Mingus writes, non-disabled people often see disability only as an individual medical issue or personal tragedy, but for disabled people, it is a multifaceted, embodied experience shaped by social, political, and material contexts.

    “The power of access intimacy,” Mingus reminds us, “is that it reorients our approach from one where disabled people are expected to squeeze into able-bodied people’s world, and instead calls upon able-bodied people to inhabit our world.”

    Rather than treating disability as an abstract problem, AEPD relies on those who know its realities firsthand to guide and support others in the community, practicing the very concept of access intimacy that Mingus calls for. In this spirit, all field visits are led by the outreach workers themselves.

     

    

    Road to the Quảng Kim Commune

     

    For our first visit, Lưu took the lead, guiding our driver along a series of winding roads until we reached the Quảng Kim Commune People’s Committee office. There, we met Thanh, the commune officer for Culture and Social Affairs, who would accompany us to the families. We continued down various dirt paths for several minutes and crossed a narrow bridge, getting lost twice before finally arriving at the first house.

    The house was modest and weathered, with a corrugated metal roof and faintly colored concrete walls. A few chickens darted around the small yard, and two Muscovy ducks that looked like turkeys waddled by, unbothered by our arrival. Waiting for us was Kiểm’s wife Minh, a warm, middle-aged woman with a lively two-year-old daughter named Anh. She quickly ushered us to a wooden table to the side of the house, surrounded by five bright orange plastic chairs.

     

    

    Mrs. Phan Thị Minh

     

    

    2-year-old Anh

     

    A pot of tea and a plate of lychee sat waiting. She poured each of us a cup, pulling Anh to her lap and brushing her hair back into a neat ponytail. Conversations overlapped as the four adults spoke easily around the wooden table. Mai reached to hold Anh’s small hands, her voice rising and falling in gentle, playful tones that made Anh giggle and flash two fingers in response. Beside them, Lưu spoke with energy, gesturing freely and drawing laughter from Minh and Thanh.

    We began the interview with Mai giving introductions before moving on to the list of questions I had prepared. That morning, Kiểm had gone out to the forest to collect bamboo leaves for temporary work, so we spoke with his wife Minh instead. She spoke softly, her brows furrowed as she described their life, the four of us listening intently. 

     

    

    Minh (left), Lưu (center), Mai (front), and Thanh (right)

    

    Baby Anh (center) and Lưu (back)

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    Kiểm was a second-generation Agent Orange victim, meaning he was born with dioxin poisoning passed down from his father, who had suffered direct exposure during the war. Unlike most U.S. soldiers who had acute, direct exposure to Agent Orange during the war, Vietnamese communities have endured continuous, transgenerational exposure (USIP, 2023). Agent Orange’s impact spans generations, harming children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren of those exposed. For Kiểm, the dioxin had resulted in chronic weakness, epilepsy, and infertility. After years of trying to have a child, the couple eventually adopted Anh from Ho Chi Minh City. 

    In Vietnam, households with disabilities are twice as likely to live in poverty as those without (USIP, 2023). Recent data from the Vietnamese Ministry of National Defence (2025) shows that 70% of Agent Orange-affected families live below the poverty line. The Gia family is one of them, earning a monthly income of about 420,000 VND ($16), supplemented by a government allowance of 1,600,000 VND ($61) for assistance to Agent Orange victims.

    Minh shoulders the bulk of care work and labor: tending to their small plot of land, caring for Anh, and taking on small jobs like gardening and catering to make a little more money for the family. She explained how AP’s livelihood sponsorship, a breeding cow, would more than double their income. But when asked what would help most urgently, she pointed to the house.

     

    

    Entrance to the house

    

    The family’s bedroom

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    Minh led us through the front entrance, where an ancestral shrine sat above an ornate wooden cabinet, with fresh flowers and a few sticks of incense burning on the altar. The space felt warm and welcoming. Just a few steps in, we reached the bedroom. A low wooden bed lay beneath a pair of colorful blankets, and across from it, a plastic chair was tied to the wall to hold a small electric fan for the sweltering heat. A bag of baby diapers hung neatly beside it. Behind the bedroom was a small kitchen; a single gas burner rested on a wooden cabinet, surrounded by sauces, spices, and a bowl of limes. As we moved through the narrow hallway, little Anh ran back and forth, her footsteps echoing. Her bursts of laughter filled the space, and Minh smiled, amused.

    She paused and pointed upward, drawing our eyes to the roof. There stood thin wooden planks, weathered and soft from the storms and typhoons common in Quang Binh. Each season, she explained, they brace for typhoons, knowing the roof might not hold. When the rain pours in, the family seek shelter with neighbors, returning only when the storm passes.

     

    

    The roof, built by hand by Minh’s brother

    

    The family’s kitchen

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    Outside, Anh clambered onto the family’s old motorcycle, her small hands gripping the handlebars and her legs dangling playfully to the side. Lưu laughed and scooped her up, swinging her high into the air as she let out a bright, shrieking giggle that rang across the yard. Nearby, Minh, Mai, and Thanh stood together in quiet conversation, Mai reaching out to gently overlay her hands with Minh’s in a soft, reassuring gesture. Minh shared with us her hopes for the future: she wished for her husband to be healthy enough and live long enough to raise Anh together.

     

73. Small Fixes, Big Impacts

    9:27 am 4 Comments

    This week was quieter on the surface, but it was the fruition of several things happening behind the scenes. With no budget for new latrine construction this year, we turned our attention to smaller, high-impact fixes at schools we’ve already partnered with. Due to a tightening of the purse strings all around the development space, this year the GDPO was not able to construct an all new latrine at a school this summer. However, we were able to get estimates on smaller-scale repairs and maintenance projects. We determined which ones to do based on need, price, and return on previous investments. If a school never bothered to keep their latrines clean, why invest in another project?

    The school selected for further investment this summer, and it was a difficult choice, was Awach Primary. The headmistress Joyce demonstrated improvement at each visit, was the first to take up our offer of malaria training, and has a large student body in need. 

    

    The state of Awach’s water tank and gutters from our first monitoring

    The latrine at Awach is equipped with a girls changing room, so that they can wash and/or change clothes as needed during their menstrual cycle. Unfortunately the girls often dispose of their pads by throwing them into the latrine, or just out in the bush. We were able to construct an incinerator so they would no longer have to take up space in the latrine pit (only meant for waste) or have to sneak out to the bush to dispose of their pads. They could now be properly collected and burned, with instruction and supervision from the female teachers. 

    

    Emma and Myself, with the newly finished incinerator

    As a bonus, the contractor also repaired the guttering and the water tank. Now the rain could be collected, then be used to wash student’s hands – right after using the latrine. Instead of having to go find a hand washing station. 

    

    The new guttering that fits snuggly into the water tank, with a new faucet.

    I’m hoping these smaller interventions can reinforce the positive feedback and lead to better outcomes for the students. Clean latrines, basic repairs, and menstrual hygiene tools don’t grab headlines, but they’re the backbone of safe, dignified learning environment.

    

    The girls can now wash their hands in proximity to the latrine, instead of having to find one

74. Journey to the Pond of Hope

    July 19, 2025 11:09 am 2 Comments

    Niranjan Chaudhary grew up listening to dinner table conversations about justice. His father, schoolteacher Sagunlal Chaudhary, was disappeared in 2002. Niranjan was young, but would listen in on those conversations between families about how to move forward, to make the state listen, to get justice. From these discussions to programs his older brother would take him to, Niranjan grew up into a movement. “I was always thinking about how the movement can be made stronger,” he told us last Tuesday. In all of his work — as a ward president, coordinator of the social development committee, chairperson of the community forest, and founder of a memorial park — this has clearly been a motive.

     

    

    A statue of Niranjan’s father, Sagunlal Chaudhary

     

    We met him Tuesday afternoon at the Kumbhar Adda Missing Warrior Memorial Park, located in Barbardiya Municipality. After a warm welcome, some introductions, and a cold bottle of water, he suggested we take a walk around the park. Anmol Chaudhary, a young man and member of the Park Management Committee who has recently been trained as a memorial guide, joined us.

     

    

    Our group near the entrance of the park. Facing forward on the far left is Niranjan Chaudhary. Next to him, also facing forward, is Anmol Chaudhary.

     

    We began in a small white building near the entrance of the park. Inside were walls of plastic bags, each holding various items — clothing, a school certificate, a steel plate — and a piece of paper with a name and date. These are the belongings of the disappeared, Anmol explained. The Park Management Committee has been collecting them. Their storytellers, a group of 25 community members, many of whom are family members of the disappeared, write about the life, events, and memories of each of person. Together with these stories, the belongings serve as an archive of memory. According to Anmol, they have gathered belongings of 68 people, but are continuing to document and collect others, hoping to eventually move everything to the park’s museum where they can be properly displayed.

     

    

    Belongings of the disappeared are displayed in bags that hang on a wall

     

    We left the building and made our way further into the park, walking down a long grass path lined with flowers and colorful glass globes. This, Anmol told us, is the Way of Hope. He added, “we have to have hope because hope gives us life.” We turned right at the end of the path and arrived at a large banyan tree, finding some relief from the heat under its canopy of leaves. Anmol instructed us to observe, and we noted that it’s thick, tangled branches lean up and to our left, aerial roots weave downwards through the tree, and large stones encircle its base. Anmol nodded. This tree, he said, represents the husband in Hindu culture. There is another (a sacred fig tree) that represents the woman and typically they accompany one another, but this tree is alone. With stones placed by 17 wives of the disappeared from Barbardiya Municipality, it has come to represent their prayer for the return of their husbands, and for justice.

     

    

    The Way of Hope

    

    A banyan tree with stones placed by wives of the disappeared

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    “The tree has a long history,” Niranjan said. We had heard from Anmol that it was once a headquarter junction point and the location of the Kumal caste’s informal justice process, but what Niranjan was referring to is a more personal history. His father, an avid proponent of education and justice for Tharu people, had started a newspaper titled Gochali (meaning comrades in the Tharu language) in the 1930s. It was written in Tharu and covered the atrocities of bonded labor and structural inequality under the Panchayat system. The newspaper was banned, but Sagunlal continued to publish. He’d come to this banyan tree to write. Only his wife, Niranjan’s mother, knew this and after her husband was disappeared, she began going to this tree every day to pray for his return.

    “Once the spot of writing for revolution, the tree remains a symbol of hope,” Niranjan reflected. “The stones are still asking the questions.”

    Still reflecting on the tree, we made our way through some brush and to a clearing. In front of us was a tall clay pillar mounted on a cement base. We moved closer and walked around the tower, each side containing a series of pictures from top to bottom — a group of farmers, a school teacher in a classroom, someone chopping wood, a sports jersey, a barber. We ran our hands over the cement base, touching the names and dates of the 258 people disappeared from Bardiya in a customary sign of respect. The pillar honors their sacrifices, Anmol told us. Each of the 24 images on the tower represents a moment someone was disappeared. One person was working in their field, another was sleeping, someone was teaching. These were ordinary people, Anmol emphasized, and over 85 percent were Tharu. In resistance to state dominance and oppression, their names, which in a piece like this would typically be engraved in the cement, are raised.

     

    

    The Memorial Pillar

     

    Continuing on our walk, Anmol pointed out that the various fruit trees throughout the park were each planted by a family of the disappeared in honor of their loved one. We stopped outside a circular hut where a group of teenagers were hanging out and learned that this Memorial Rest House was the first structure built in the park. It was initiated by Niranjan during his time as the chairperson of the community forest. The rest house became a central spot for local families of the disappeared to gather and plan for the future, a starting point of their movement. It is now also a resting place for the wider community but remains a meeting spot for families of the disappeared and a symbol of their resistance.

     

    

    The rest house from a distance

     

    From there we could see a silhouette of a person cut out in a cement wall. It sat in the distance, at the end of a corridor of greenery. We walked towards it, passing by the park museum on our way. As we moved closer, more cement walls emerged. This Memorial Wall is still under construction, Anmol explained. They plan for it to become a national memorial, with the names of Nepal’s 1,350 disappeared people to be listed by month on each of the 12 walls. The 13th and central wall has been cut so that an area in the shape of a person is missing. Anmol pointed out that while it is the shape of a human being, you cannot see the person — a powerful symbol challenging us to reckon with enforced disappearance.

     

    

    The museum

     

    Anmol encouraged us to think back over where we’d been in the park — the banyan tree with stones from the municipality’s wives of the disappeared, a pillar with the names and stories of those disappeared in Bardiya District, and now a national memorial. Our walk through the park had been a journey, tracing the impact from the local to national level and honoring all of those whose fates remain unknown.

     

    

    The memorial wall, still under construction

     

    We had one more stop. We walked through to the other side of the Memorial Wall and entered the forest. Meandering down a dirt path, we found ourselves surrounded by lush green and dappled light. The sound of birds chirping and monkeys rustling through the trees in the distance accompanied our steps. We came to a clearing with a swing and herd of sheep. Just a few more steps and we found ourselves standing at the edge of a large pond.

     

    

    Our walk through the forest

     

    “You have faced many obstacles in your walk here through the park, symbolizing the obstacles people have faced in their fight for justice and truth. But we have arrived at the Pond of Hope,” Niranjan explained.

     

    

    The Pond of Hope

     

    The park as a physical space is imbued with memory. There are the stories and monuments written in, but also the knowledge held by the land itself. And as we looked out over the water, watching as birds swooped and a small alligator swam across, we were overwhelmed by the grief, love, long struggle for truth and justice, and eventual hope that it represents.

75. A Place of Conscience

    July 16, 2025 12:53 am 4 Comments

    “This is a place of conscience,” Ram always says of Bardiya.

    It’s true.

    Bardiya District, located in south western Nepal, just on the border with India, is quiet. People ride bicycles down dirt roads that wind past fields of rice. A group of cows find respite in the shade of a Sal tree. A dog bounds down the road, mountains stretch across the horizon. Everything is draped in soft hues of blue and green.

    We’ve settled in quickly. Our first day was spent talking over dal bhat eaten in the garden, stuffing our faces with mangos ripe from the tree, and staying up late playing dhumbal, a popular Nepali card game.

    There is peace, community, and joy, both for those who live here and those, like us, that visit. But, if you listen, you can feel the missing.

    During the armed conflict, the state targeted Bardiya’s Tharu communities under the assumption that they were associated with Maoists. Over 250 people were disappeared. The loss, longing, and sense of cruel injustice linger, heavy like the hot air.

    We drive through a stretch of forest on our way to a meeting. Signs warn of tigers and rhinos, and we gasp at the sight of wild elephants. But these are not the only residents of the national park. As Ram reminds us, this area was occupied by state security forces during the conflict and an enormous number of people are believed to have been disappeared here. The forest knows their stories.

    Loss is familiar to me, but not like this. For families of the disappeared, loss brings a grief fraught by hope — one which leaves them waiting in that liminal space defined by longing for truth. This is not a loss that rolls over. Rather, it is one that fuels a quiet determination, anger sharp with love, a fight for justice. More than just its blue mountains or heavy air, Bardiya is a place of resistance.

76. Tackling the Intractable! Cultivating the culture of Hygiene and Wellbeing in Rural Schools.

    July 15, 2025 5:23 am 2 Comments

    Our recent monitoring efforts across seven schools paint a vivid picture in Tackling the Intractable! Cultivating the Culture of Hygiene and Wellbeing in Rural Schools. We’ve observed a clear dichotomy: some institutions have enthusiastically embraced our WASH interventions, demonstrating remarkable progress, while others continue to navigate significant challenges in adapting to these crucial health and sanitation practices. This underscores the complex nature of fostering sustainable behavioral change within diverse educational environments.

    

    Pupils of Kulu Opal Primary School Takes a Deliberate Step to Refill their Hand Washing Container with Clean Water.

    We’re particularly heartened by the notable advancements in schools that have truly internalized the spirit of Cultivating the Culture of Hygiene and Wellbeing in Schools. Kulu Opal, for instance, has established a commendable hand washing routine, with learners taking deliberate and proactive ownership of water replenishment without being reminded. Awach Primary School has made a firm commitment to regular malaria prevention training, directly aligning with our overarching goals. Panykworo continues to uphold an excellent standard of environmental cleanliness, while Awach Central has diligently addressed prior challenges. Even with limited resources, Tochi is maximizing their efforts, eagerly anticipating further support to enhance their WASH commitment.

    At Awach Primary School, Children have Adapted to a Culture of Hand Washing Norms as a Way to Keep their Hygiene 

    However, the journey is not without its obstacles. Certain schools unfortunately struggle to adopt these vital practices, often due to administrative reluctance. When school leadership is hesitant to embrace modern WASH principles, it significantly impedes efforts to positively influence the broader learning community. Abaka Primary School, for example, remains concerningly disengaged from basic WASH routines, posing potential health threats. Similarly, Ogul Primary School needs to translate theoretical cleaning plans into tangible action, moving their cleaning roster from the staffroom wall to practical implementation to genuinely improve their WASH circumstances.

    

    Ogul Primary School still continues to watch as their WASH facility falls Apart

    Beyond these foundational efforts, we are expanding our initiatives to further Tackle the Intractable. We’re pleased to announce scheduled malaria prevention training sessions, including at Awach central Primary school on Thursday 17th and Panykworo Primary School on Wednesday 16th, which boasts an infirmary staffed by a highly dedicated medical professional. Furthermore, we’ve organized Menstrual Health and Reusable Sanitary Pads training in the coming week before the month ends, to be led by HerWorth Foundation, a women-led community-based organization devoted to empowering young women and combating menstrual poverty. We’re proud to profile this partner organization in our forthcoming blog. These integrated approaches are vital as we continue to empower all schools to fully embrace and embody the principles of hygiene and wellbeing, all this while continuing the distribution of liquid soap and checked on the incinerator construction progress in Awach Primary school.

    

    The Gutter system at Abaka Primary School Remains Broken and Un-attended to after months of recommendations to the school Administration.

    The insights gleaned from this monitoring are invaluable. We’ve seen firsthand the transformative power of genuine commitment in schools like Kulu Opal and Panykworo, where the culture of hygiene is actively woven into daily life. Yet, the persistent struggles in places like Abaka and Ogul remind us that the “intractable” aspects of behavioral change often stem from leadership inertia and a disconnect between policy and practice. Our path forward requires not just continued support and resources, but a more targeted approach to fostering administrative buy-in and empowering school communities to bridge these gaps. By acknowledging both the significant strides and the remaining hurdles, we can refine our strategies to ensure that every rural school truly becomes a beacon of health and wellbeing, creating a healthier and more conducive learning environment for every child.

77. Threading the Needle

    July 14, 2025 7:58 am 3 Comments

    Unraveling, Tacking, and Mending

    In another meeting with the ladies from WAW, together with Mama Cave, Joe and myself, we came together to negotiate the budget and come up with a schedule that was amenable to everyone. What I thought would be relatively straightforward, and build on the momentum from the last meeting, we would be able to walk away with tangible results.

    These meetings always come with another level of added complexity, however this meeting took an even more interesting twist. When the ladies presented their thoughts and counter-offer to Mama Cave, she decided the price was wrong and literally walked away. I think this shocked everyone else at the meeting, myself included. Especially because if you did the math, she would still be making pretty good money, for even less work. Sometimes it just doesn’t work out.

    

    Left to Right: Judith, Nighty, Concy, Myself and Joe. The ladies are elaborating their thoughts on moving forward

    With Mama Cave’s exit, we tightened up the circle of chairs and began discussing what to do next. We decided to continue to plan to begin the training, most of the pieces were already in place. With Nighty and Judith leading the training, since they had experience tailoring and getting the other ladies up to speed. During that time, they would find and hire a trainer that could show them the more sophisticated designs for dresses and bags. 

    I told them I’d run this plan and budget up the chain of command to see if we could get them that money (it would be approved). In the meantime, I made a draft business plan and budget plan with blank spaces, and asked them to talk to the whole group and fill in the blanks, which they seemed agreeable to. Once that money comes in, I will help them procure and schlep the sewing machines to the GDPO compound, and their training can commence. 

     

    Bite-Sized Setback

    As I was leaving the hotel around 6 a.m. for my usual gym session, I woke the night watchman to open the gate as I always do. On Thursday, however, he must have fallen asleep before putting away the guard dogs (normally kenneled by 5 a.m.). A rottweiler named Bruno stepped out of the shadows. I froze. I extended my hand, hoping he’d remember me from the daytime. Maybe my movement was too sudden—or maybe he just didn’t care. He lunged and bit me on the hand. Not hard enough to cause serious damage, but enough to draw blood.

    Still determined to get my workout in, I walked the dark streets to the gym, inspecting my hand under the first streetlight I found. It was bleeding—not profusely, but noticeably. I rushed through my workout, spraying it with disinfectant in between sets. When I returned, the morning cleaning crew was already working. I showed them my hand and said I needed to see a doctor—and that they should contact the hotel owner.

    “The owner will be here at 9,” one of them replied. That was two hours away.

    “Don’t they live on the property?”

    “Yes,” she said, “but they’re sleeping.”

    “This is an emergency. I think you should wake them up,” I said, my tone sharpening.

    “But they’ll fire me,” she murmured.

    “Then I’ll wake them up. They can’t fire me,” I replied.

    She didn’t move. I turned and walked toward the nearest room and banged loudly on the nearest door (of which I knew was unoccupied). “No, please stop!” she begged. “I’ll get them. Please just wait.”

    Twenty minutes later, Sunil, the Indian owner of the hotel, arrived with a first-aid kit. He cleaned the wound with iodine, showed me the dog’s vaccination records, and then personally guided me through Uganda’s patchwork health care system.

    

    Getting first hand experience with Ugandan healthcare

    We drove into town, pharmacy-hopping in search of medication. At the third pharmacy, we found what we needed: tetanus and rabies vaccines. Sunil inspected the packaging and expiration dates before purchasing—something he said was always necessary here. We then went to a private clinic he trusted, where we paid up front for the doctor’s time, the nurse’s time, two syringes, a pair of gloves, and the injections themselves. Sunil made sure I saw the nurse open both the gloves and syringe packaging before administering anything.

    The whole ordeal—medicine included—cost about 60,000 UGX (~$16.75). I was almost grateful to have been bitten in Uganda; the same experience back home would’ve easily cost hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars.

    Wanting to minimize delay, I quickly boda’d to the office. I was only 15 minutes late—and not even the last to arrive. That honor went to our driver, who was “running errands” and didn’t return with the vehicle for another three hours. My anxiety about being the one to hold things up had been entirely misplaced.

     

    Back to Finishing My Final Rounds

    Once we finally made it to the field, I was happy to see that most schools had made some visible progress since our last monitoring visit. The two outliers were Abaka and Ogul, schools notorious even amongst the other villages as being troubled. Their latrines remained unclean, and neither had any place for the children to wash their hands. Joe dryly pointed out that while the students had nothing, the teachers had set up a wash area…for their mangos.

    

    At the entrance of Ogul Primary, there is a mural that reminds children to always use soap when washing their hands

    We brought them free soap nonetheless, telling them that we want to continue to work with them, and that we hope to see the soap available to the children next time. Joe also reiterated to the headmasters that the soap was for the children, not for the teachers to siphon off and take home (something previously seen at Abaka).

    

    However, this was only water tank for hand washing around Ogul

    The contrast between schools was striking. The five that had shown progress not only made improvements but were also proud to show them. They welcomed us, thanked us for the soap, and took careful note of the suggestions we made for next time. The two stagnant schools, by contrast, never said thank you. They treated our visit as a nuisance, not an opportunity.

    Still, I found encouragement in watching my colleagues work. The GDPU monitoring team no longer needed my nudges to write things down or bring backup forms. They were taking initiative, managing logistics, and taking ownership of the process. That quiet redundancy felt like a win, proof that the work will carry on, even without me.

    

    Joe taking the lead with the headmaster of Abaka

    The wheels of progress do not spin in northern Uganda; they grind. Slowly, unevenly, and often with resistance. But they do move, and when they do, the effort shows in every inch gained.

78. Interview with Devi Khadka: On Survival, Silence, and the Fight for Justice in Nepal

    July 13, 2025 1:19 am 4 Comments

    We met Devi Khadka on the morning of July 1, 2025, in Kathmandu, at a time of renewed political tension surrounding Nepal’s transitional justice process. In mid-May, the government announced a second round of appointments to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission and the Commission of Investigation on Enforced Disappeared Persons—decisions that were swiftly and strongly rejected by victims and survivors. The appointments were widely criticized as politically manipulated and carried out without meaningful consultation, undermining the principle of a victim-centered approach that lies at the heart of legitimate transitional justice.

    In response to sustained pressure from the victims’ movement, the government has begun reopening consultations with survivors in an attempt to regain trust and revive the long-stalled process. (For more, see: Conflict victims slam UN support for ‘flawed’ transitional justice bodies)

    Amid this shifting political landscape, Devi Khadka has remained one of Nepal’s most powerful and persistent voices for justice. A former Maoist commander and parliamentarian, she is now best known for her unwavering advocacy on behalf of survivors of conflict-related sexual violence. Her leadership has been central to the movement’s transformation—from scattered stories of suffering into a nationwide demand for recognition, reparation, and accountability.

    After her release, Devi faced intense social stigma and rejection. Nevertheless, she continued fighting on the front lines and steadily rose through the Maoist ranks, eventually becoming a commander and later assuming her brother’s political role after his death. In 2008, she was elected to Nepal’s Constituent Assembly. Reflecting on her time in parliament in a later interview, Devi expressed regret that she had not spoken out more forcefully about sexual violence—silenced, she said, by political pressure and the lingering weight of personal trauma (For more, see: Global Press Journal – Meet the Nepali Woman Leading Calls for Justice for Wartime Sexual Assaults).

    Today, Devi is a leading voice in Nepal’s fight for justice for survivors of conflict-era sexual violence. She leads two organizations working to document cases, push for state recognition, and secure medical and legal support. Her work challenges the deep-rooted stigma surrounding sexual violence in Nepal and highlights the failure of the country’s transitional justice mechanisms to address survivors’ needs.

    Her story is featured in the 2024 documentary Devi by Subina Shrestha and Nepal’s Undefeated Survivors of Wartime Sexual Violence (Witness). Despite the obstacles, Devi remains committed to seeking justice—if not for her own generation, then for the next.

    As a researcher in law, I was struck not only by the depth of Devi’s legal knowledge—especially of the TRC Act—but by her clarity of reasoning and her unwavering commitment. Our conversation revealed both the personal pain she has endured and the intellectual clarity with which she now critiques Nepal’s transitional justice process.

    The Movement Was Born in Silence

    In our interview, Devi told me that deciding to share her story through the documentary was not a sudden act of courage—it was a response to a movement. “The government didn’t recognize women affected by sexual violence. When someone contacted me, I felt it was the right moment. The documentary became part of a larger struggle. It was a timing thing.”

    That movement—built by and for survivors of conflict-related sexual violence—has passed through three phases over the last seven years. In the first, women found one another and began to heal. They spent two years releasing emotion, confronting trauma, and insisting on acknowledgment. In the second phase, they turned toward evidence and strategy—gathering data, documenting crimes, demanding recognition. And now, in its third phase, the movement has become a mature, organized, and persistent force—one that the government can no longer ignore.

    “They Acknowledged Us Only Because They Were Forced”

    When I asked whether the government’s attitude toward survivors had changed, Devi answered with unsettling clarity: “The government was forced to acknowledge us because of the movement. But they still haven’t internalized it.” The word she used most often throughout our conversation was forcefully. “They acknowledged the issue publicly, but there is no real action—no real intention to go further.”

    This lack of genuine commitment is visible in the very legal framework designed to deliver justice. The newly amended TRC Ac, passed in August last year, mentions sexual violence and offers categories for it, copied from Nepal’s Criminal Code. But survivors say the law falls short. It offers no clear, survivor-centered definitions. “There are words, but no meanings,” Devi told me.

    I asked a question about privacy, inspired by the documentary and my earlier interviews. Some survivors of sexual violence had previously shared that, at the very least, victim groups tend to respect their privacy. In the documentary, while Devi strongly urged the government to take action for survivors, the government’s response was to ask her to hold a press conference. That moment made me question whether the privacy of survivors is truly respected by the state. Given the deep social stigma that still surrounds sexual violence in Nepal, privacy becomes not only sensitive but urgent.

    Although Article 28 of Nepal’s Constitution and the 2018 Privacy Act formally guarantee the right to privacy, these protections remain largely theoretical. “Only a small group of political actors in urban areas respect the idea of privacy,” Devi told me. “Most people don’t understand it. And even the implementation directives don’t explain what it really means.”

    Fighting to Be Counted

    While the exact number remains unknown, it is widely believed that thousands of women experienced sexual violence during the conflict—far exceeding the 314 cases registered by the previous commission. These cases were never investigated, nor did the survivors receive any form of reparative support. Through Devi’s efforts to mobilize members nationwide, her organization has now documented 794 cases, with the process still ongoing.

    Devi expresses deep disappointment with the commission’s work, citing a lack of trust and credibility in the state-led institution. She said, most women were never given the opportunity to come forward. They were effectively excluded from the process—just as they had been from the interim relief program.

    That exclusion led to one of the movement’s most significant victories: a push for special compensation for survivors of conflict-related sexual violence, many of whom had previously received nothing. The Amended TRC Act now explicitly prioritizes these survivors and commits to delivering reparations. Yet, it remains unclear how—or when—these promises will be meaningfully implemented. Proposals for financial compensation have been discussed, but survivors continue to wait for concrete action.

    One key message from the movement is that there can be no “one-size-fits-all” approach to reparation. “We are collecting information region by region,” Devi explained. “Each woman’s needs are different. We want to prioritize based on actual need.”

    While the new TRC Act does recognize reparation as a right and outlines five types of reparation, it does not include a general umbrella clause or reparation formula. As Devi’s current work highlights, reparations must be needs-based: some survivors may urgently require school support, others medical care, livelihood assistance, or psychosocial services. The challenge ahead lies in translating the legal recognition of rights into concrete, personalized, and dignified support.

    Healing From the Inside

    In remote villages across Nepal, stigma and exclusion remain deeply entrenched. “In those communities,” Devi said quietly, “if a woman says she was raped, they treat her like a prostitute.”

    That is why the survivors’ movement has placed such strong emphasis on psychosocial healing, peer support, and empowerment. One of its most powerful aspects is that the survivors themselves have become the healers. They began training as counselors, legal advisors, and trauma support workers. “We trained our own people,” Devi said proudly. “After six months, survivors became counselors for other survivors.”

    Devi is one of them.

    Survivors as Leaders of Justice

    The international community has played a role—applying pressure on the government to acknowledge survivors of sexual violence. But as Devi reminds us, the real power has come from the ground. From the women who stood up, organized, spoke out, and refused to let the past be erased.

    “They didn’t see us. We made them see.”
    This, Devi conveyed, is the core message of the survivors’ movement.

    In Nepal’s long and painful transitional justice process, survivors of sexual violence are not passive victims waiting for compassion. They are builders of truth, architects of justice, and fierce defenders of memory. And in their struggle, they are reshaping the very meaning of accountability.

    

    Devi Khadka: Photo from the Guardian

79. Namaste – An Introduction to Ram and our Project

    July 12, 2025 1:54 am 5 Comments

    The first time I met Ram Bhandari in person was in January, in the lobby of the Gallery Park Hotel. We shook hands and he draped a Khata scarf around my neck. We met again this past Tuesday, in the Gallery Park Hotel, only this time welcoming each other with a hug.

    My arrival is a return, not just to familiar faces, but to the rhythm of Kathmandu and its somewhat miraculous ballet of cars, bikes, and people moving ceaselessly down every alley, colorful shops, distant honks or dog barks, and smell of incense and gasoline, all bringing quiet recollections of my short trip here in January.

    There is much I am eager to come back to (like dal bhat and friends in Bardiya) and all that I hope to experience this time around. But most of all, I am eager, and deeply privileged, to work with Ram. He is truly incredible.

    On December 31, 2001, amid Nepal’s civil war (1996-2006), Ram’s father, Tej Bahadur Bhandari, was kidnapped from the streets of Besisahar and disappeared by the state. In his quest for justice for his own father, Ram met others like himself — children, siblings, wives, mothers, fathers — all seeking answers about their loved ones. Informal organizing starting at the local level led to his eventual formation of NEFAD, the Network of Families of the Disappeared, in 2009, which remains a central platform for raising the demands of families of the disappeared from across Nepal today.

    A scholar and tireless advocate like his father, Ram has spent the last two decades fighting for the rights of conflict victims. He has submitted petitions to the UN and Nepali Supreme Court, organized memorialization conferences, raised the demands of victims and survivors in meetings with top political leaders, spoken before the UN Security Council, pushed for amendments to the Truth and Reconciliation Act, and, most recently, been at the forefront of the effort to demand the formal transitional justice process be transparent, credible, and victim-centered. Ram is not alone — victims and survivors from around Nepal have organized to demand truth, justice, dignity, memory, and reparation.

    The victim movement in Nepal is remarkable not just for its advocacy surrounding the formal process, but for the ways in which victims and survivors have worked to realize key elements of transitional justice at the grassroots level. Memorialization is a telling example. Many families of the disappeared have memorialized their relatives through local conferences, ceremonies, parks, embroidery, names, statues, or other physical monuments. In doing so, they facilitate healing, resist the erasure of disappearance, insert their stories in the public conscience and historical narrative, and challenge the stigma faced by relatives of the disappeared. All of these are key elements of transitional justice. Often local memorialization projects are the result of sustained mobilization and engagement with local government, itself arguably also a piece of this process. (Ram has a great article on the significance of local memorialization and victim mobilization as a part of the transitional justice process which you can find here.)

    While much movement has been made, there is still a ways to go before victims’ rights are realized in Nepal. Among many other things, Ram is currently fighting for new commissions, ones that would reflect a genuine and credible attempt at transitional justice. He is also working to start a center, with the support of a team composed of Lecturer Niraj Acharya, PhD student Shuyuan Zhang, Wesleyan student Laila Azmy, and myself. Our goal is to create an institution that will facilitate collaboration between civil society, victim movements, and academics, monitor and report on the unfolding process from the perspective of survivors through articles and a monthly newsletter, and engage local and international students in learning about survivor-led transitional justice.

    The work is already underway, and many meetings feel, as Niraj put it in a recent text message, like important landmarks towards our vision. At every step, I am reminded of our mission at its core: to advance truth, justice, and survivor’s narratives. I am lucky to be working with such an incredible team of people, all of whom are wholeheartedly dedicated to this project.

    

    The full team at our first meeting together in Kathmandu

80. Hands On: Soap, Schools, and Strategy

    July 6, 2025 10:39 am 4 Comments

    

    Sharing the road with the village occupants

    After the completely expected belated start our July monitoring began with Kulu Opal Primary School. Last month, this was the school where we found their latrine water tank so filthy that frogs and insects had begun living in it, and no other hand washing stations around the school. Needless to say, there was room for improvement.

    When we arrived the health clinic workers were already talking to the children under a large tree. I was pleasantly surprised to see handwashing stands aligned near the classrooms. As we walked over to join the assembly, I took the liberty of lifting the lids and inspecting the state of the water. To my delight they were all clean, and two of the stations even had bars of soap for the children to use. 

    

    The health clinic worker walking amongst the students to get their attention back

    As soon as I became visible behind the woman from the clinic addressing the children, hundreds of eyes were transfixed on me. So much so, that I almost regretted interrupting as I knew the children were no longer listening to the important information being given them. With Emma translating for me, the clinic workers explained to the children, when given medicine for malaria you have to take the WHOLE dose. Not to stop just when you start to feel better, not to share with your siblings or parents. 

    

    The child behind the health worker eagerly volunteered to demonstrate to the teachers how to do the malaria test

    We then witnessed the nurse demonstrating to the teachers how to perform a rapid test, to properly dispose of the sticker and blood drop sieve, and how to read it. While demonstrating, they found one young girl student and three teachers that tested positive for malaria, which just goes to show how pervasive this malady is in the region. 

    

    She ended up testing positive

    We then headed back to the headmasters’ office, but I veered off to the latrine, and the moment of truth. When I lifted the lid on the latrines’ water tank, to my astonishment, it was completely clean! The progress the school had made was exhilarating, but not over. We had delivered 40 liters of liquid soap to the school, for free. And told the headmaster that if we saw another improvement next month, the GDPO could sell him the soap with a discount. Now that we knew they had the liquid soap, next month we’d (‘they’d’ really since I wouldn’t be around) like to see it at the handwashing stations. Simple enough,… right?

    We finished off the week visiting two more schools in the Awach village; Awach Primary and Awach Central. At Awach Primary, the health clinicians were waiting for us and the headmistress summoned the children under a large mango tree. Nearly 500 children struggled to divide their attention between the medic explaining malaria prevention, whispering to their friends and staring at me. Still, even if I was an unfortunate distraction, the message was clear and repeated: finish your malaria medicine, don’t share it, and prevention begins with clean hands. These small lessons, paired with visible improvements at the schools, gave me hope that something might be sticking.

    

    The health center worker engaging the students at Awach Primary

    At the other Awach school (Awach Central), during the last monitoring visit, we discovered a dead lizard decaying in the main water tank. Again, to my pleasant surprise, this was removed and the water was clean. We set up goals for the next month’s visit; having soap at the hand washing stations. We also delivered free liquid soap to the school, for free, for this purpose. There is no excuse to not have this done in a month.  

    While none of these changes alone will transform the health outcomes of an entire region, they do mark real, measurable progress. Clean tanks. Soap at washing stations. Children repeating lessons about malaria. These aren’t sweeping reforms but they’re steps forward. And without regular monitoring, without showing up to check, encourage, and follow through, even these modest gains might stall or slip away. Progress here moves slowly, often unpredictably, but it moves. And that movement is driven not by big speeches or perfect plans, but by consistent, patient presence; by returning to the same schools, lifting the same lids, and quietly insisting that the next visit will look a little better than the last.

81. From Classroom to Frontline: Pupils Wage War Against Malaria in Gulu District.

    10:13 am 4 Comments

    In the first week of July 2025, two rural schools in Gulu District—Kulu Opal Primary School and Awach P.7 School—emerged as unlikely but powerful frontlines in Uganda’s ongoing battle against malaria. What began as routine school days quickly transitioned into transformative learning experiences, as children stepped forward not merely as pupils, but as informed advocates and frontliners in the fight against malaria.

     

    

    After the training sessions was Done, Pupils were Tested for Malaria and Positive cases got Treatment.

    The sensitization sessions, organized by the Gulu Disabled Persons Organization (GDPO) under its WASH program with support from The Advocacy Project, were facilitated by dedicated medical personnel—Kizito Isaacs and Okello Martine at Awach P.7, and Kinyera Bernard Terry at Kulu Opal. These sessions brought learners face-to-face with one of Uganda’s most persistent public health threats. “Prevention starts at home,” emphasized Okello Martine, School Health Assistant. “Learners must understand malaria—but parents must be part of the journey too.”

    Despite national progress, malaria remains the leading cause of illness and death in Uganda, disproportionately affecting children under five, pregnant women, and low-income households. In rural communities like Kulu Opal and Awach, infection rates remain alarmingly high. This reality underscores the urgent need for community-based, child-centered health education. When equipped with accurate, age-appropriate knowledge, children become powerful agents of change—capable of influencing household behaviors and catalyzing community-wide prevention efforts.

     

    

    Happy and Healthy Pupils Play Seven Stones in the School Environment.

    The sessions were designed to be both engaging and practical. Learners explored the biology of malaria transmission, the breeding habits of the female Anopheles mosquito, and simple yet effective prevention strategies—such as eliminating stagnant water, slashing overgrown grass, and consistently using insecticide-treated mosquito nets. “I’ve learned to always set my mosquito net before bed and teach my family too,” shared Akello Venesa, a Primary 3 pupil at Awach P.7.

     

    

    The Signage in School Environment Carries a clear Message in the Fight Against Malaria.

    A malaria screening conducted at Awach P.7 revealed a sobering statistic: 10 out of 14 pupils tested positive, reflecting a 71% infection rate. “My brothers never sleep under nets and always fall sick. I made sure they listened this time,” said Adoch Julian, Primary 5, Kulu Opal. These figures are not just numbers—they are a call to action.

    The message was clear and urgent: learners are not passive beneficiaries—they are frontliners in the fight against malaria. They were empowered to become ambassadors of prevention, using their voices to influence change at school, at home, and across their communities. Kinyera Bernard called for sustained investment in community health systems: “Train parents and teachers to reinforce prevention. Provide treated mosquito nets to learners. Equip school infirmaries with test kits and essential drugs. And maintain regular sensitization to sustain awareness and behavior change, malaria must, and can be defeated, but never without community support”

    These stories from Kulu Opal and Awach P.7 are not isolated events—they are a testament to what is possible when children are empowered with knowledge and supported by their communities. They remind us that the path to a malaria-free society begins with education, inclusion, and collective responsibility.

    

    Emma Ajok from GDPO gives malaria training at the Kulu Opal primary school. Aaron Bailey, an AP Peace Fellow, watches on the left,

     

    To truly eliminate malaria, we must invest in the next generation of health champions by supporting school-based health education programs, ensuring access to prevention tools such as treated mosquito nets and diagnostic kits, and engaging parents, teachers, and local leaders in sustained behavioral change efforts. Stand with these young frontliners, amplify their voices, and commit—together—to a future where no child suffers or dies from a mosquito bite.

     

82. The Stakes Are High!

    July 3, 2025 9:43 am 4 Comments

    As July dawns, we find ourselves at a pivotal moment, one shaped by urgency, opportunity, and immense responsibility. In the field of public health, sanitation, and empowerment, there’s no room for complacency. For those of us, working within the WASH (Water, Sanitation, and Hygiene) project, July isn’t just another month, it’s a sprint of purpose, packed with transformative activities. The pace is fast, the expectations are high, and the impact we strive for is vital. The stakes are high, but in the wisdom of Justice William J Brennan, “We must meet the challenge, rather than wish it were not before us.” and we are rising to the challenge of our time.

     

    

     

    This month kicks off with a promising meeting with Amigos Internacionales, a like-minded organization based in Texas U.S, equally committed to driving sustainable change. This gathering isn’t just a meeting of teams, it’s a meeting of minds, values, and visions. We aim to foster collaboration, forge strong partnerships, and strengthen networking that collectively advance our mission of delivering life-changing services to underserved communities. When synergy replaces silos, transformation becomes inevitable.

    As momentum accelerates, we are set to implement malaria prevention training, a foundational pillar in the pursuit of sustainable public health. This initiative is designed to equip learners, teachers, and broader communities with the critical knowledge and practical skills required to interrupt the transmission cycle of one of the region’s most enduring health threats.

    Complementing this training is the strategic distribution of liquid soap, which reinforces essential hygiene behaviors such as handwashing, an often overlooked yet powerful tool in disease prevention. By positioning schools as catalysts for behavioral transformation and health advocacy, we are not merely protecting lives, we are cultivating resilience, nurturing informed communities, and establishing strongholds of lasting hope.

    In parallel, we will be training adolescent girls on menstrual hygiene and how to make reusable sanitary pads using materials readily available in their communities. This isn’t just a health intervention, but also a movement for dignity, gender equality, and self-sufficiency. In multiple many communities, menstruation is a barrier to education, confidence, and opportunity. through teaching girls how to manage their periods safely and affordably, we are not just giving them a skill, but also cultivating hope and igniting a fire. We’re turning scars into a rallying cry for empowerment.

    And because the stakes are high, we’re taking a strategic leap through an engagement with the district WASH coordination group, which brings together key players, from INGOs and local NGOs to government agencies and community leaders. This is more than just networking, it’s about aligning efforts, amplifying voices, and driving collective impact. In these coordination spaces, the seeds of innovation are sown, duplication is avoided, and solutions are tailored to real needs. Together, we become stronger stewards of health and human dignity.

    We also remain committed to monitoring the schools where WASH facilities have already been constructed. Without regular oversight, the most thoughtfully designed infrastructure can fail. Our visits have illuminated areas in need of repair: broken taps, damaged gutter systems, and compromised water tanks. These aren’t setbacks, they’re insights. We’re mobilizing swiftly to carry out repairs and launch the construction of an incinerator in one of the schools, to further improve sanitation management, especially for menstrual waste. This isn’t just maintenance, it’s a declaration that our work doesn’t end at installation, it begins with impact.

    We plan to extend our monitoring to schools we haven’t worked with before, gathering firsthand insights that will inform smarter, more inclusive interventions in the future. In a world where resources are limited and needs are vast, information is power, and observation is a catalyst for change.

    The Stakes Are High, every action we take, from repairing a broken tap to mentoring a girl child, creates waves that inspire the whole community.

    The stakes are high because public health hinges on timely interventions; malaria doesn’t wait, and poor hygiene can erase progress in an instant. The future of our young girls depends on access to menstrual hygiene, keeping them in school, confident and healthy. Our potential partnership is taking shape, promising to amplify our collective reach. An infrastructure, without ongoing care, risks crumbling into irrelevance, unless we act.

    Through relentless monitoring and learning, we sharpen our impact and ensure that every move is purposeful. This month, we are not merely rolling out activities, we are shaping futures, restoring dignity, and fueling lasting hope. We do so with unwavering resolve, fully prepared to meet the rising demands of our mission. We are readily focused and just when you think you have seen it all, we strike again, with a redefined purpose and commitment.

     

83. Growing Hope: Composting and Community Change in Kibera

    9:06 am 5 Comments

    [I wrote this blog because I believe it’s important to do some context-setting for the upcoming posts on my blog page. Not every blog post will have a history lesson. But, I feel it’s important to understand Shield of Faith’s operational environment so that we can all begin to understand the experiences of Kibera residents and students.]

    In the heart of Kibera, one of Africa’s largest informal settlements, waste is more than just a bad smell. It’s a public health crisis, a symptom of inequality, and a daily reality for hundreds of thousands of families.

    Kibera’s Origins

    Kibera’s roots trace back to the end of World War I, when Nubian soldiers in the King’s African Rifles were settled on forested land outside Nairobi as a reward for their military service. The name “Kibera” comes from a Nubian word meaning “forest.”

    Following Kenya’s independence in 1963, the government nationalized the land. However, instead of formalizing property rights, the area remained informally structured, with plots unofficially rented out by landlords. Today, most residents lack legal land tenure, making them vulnerable to eviction and limiting government investment in infrastructure and services, including waste management.

    What Fuels the Waste Crisis?

    Because Kibera is largely excluded from formal urban planning, the settlement has experienced decades of neglect. There is no structured waste collection system, meaning garbage piles up in shared spaces or is burned in the open. During rainy seasons, flooding carries waste and sewage into streams, rivers, and homes.

    High population density compounds the problem. With limited sanitation facilities and shared living spaces, residents struggle to manage household waste safely. Poverty further worsens the situation. Most residents can’t afford private waste collection or healthier food options, creating a vicious cycle where hunger, disease, and environmental degradation reinforce one another.

    

     

    Consequences for Health, Environment, and Food Insecurity

    The consequences of this waste crisis touch every part of life in Kibera.

    Health hazards and spread of disease are rampant in areas where waste is unmanaged and sanitation is lacking. Poor waste disposal leads to disease outbreaks, especially during the rainy season when waste clogs drainage. Garbage dumped near homes or water sources contaminates drinking water and food, increasing gastrointestinal illnesses. With few toilets and waste services, human waste often mixes with household trash, compounding health risks.

    Malnutrition and stunting result from a lack of affordable, healthy food, made worse by poor soil and limited space for growing crops. Without composting infrastructure, valuable organic waste ends up in dump sites or rivers instead of being used to enrich soil and support local food systems. Poor sanitation and environmental hazards disrupt informal food markets—where most Kibera residents shop—causing food losses or price spikes, especially during floods or disease outbreaks.

    Environmental pollution and degradation Issues increase as plastic, food scraps, and sewage mix in open drains and alleyways. Uncollected waste clogs narrow pathways and drainage channels, causing frequent flash floods and sewage overflow. Waste dumped into the Nairobi River and other streams destroys aquatic ecosystems and affects downstream communities. Burning plastic, diapers, and mixed waste releases harmful chemicals into the air, affecting air quality and contributing to climate change.

    Community Solutions: Composting with Shield of Faith

    Despite these challenges, community-based organizations like Shield of Faith are leading the way with practical solutions. Stella Makena noticed these challenges and began introducing composting to the women in the Shield of Faith embroidery collective. Using Red Wriggler worms, members transform kitchen waste into nutrient-rich compost and leachate fertilizer, branded as Lishe-Grow. By turning organic waste into compost, families reduce landfill waste while boosting soil fertility. Shield of Faith members have also improved the quality of their home-grown vegetables, improving both diets and household savings.

    This small-scale initiative is already making a big impact: So far, SOF has: 

    • – Diverted tons of organic waste from dumps and drains
    • – Enabled women to grow up to 40% of their own vegetables
    • – Increased household food security
    • – Supported 14 mothers to grow enough produce for 3 nutritious meals a week
    • – Lowered food costs and increased financial literacy through savings and loan groups

     

    

    An example of SOF’s work with women throughout Kibera. Here, Stella teaches Irene how to mix her compost into old soil to give it nutrients and revitalize her kale, onions, and maize!

     

    Building on this success, Shield of Faith is now expanding into schools. Partnering with Kenya’s 4K Clubs, the organization is equipping students with composting and urban farming skills. Shield of Faith hopes to inspire ripple effects across generations and households by teaching young people to care for their land and reduce waste. By embedding composting and urban farming education into schools and empowering students, Shield of Faith will create ripple effects across communities.

    A Model for Sustainable, Locally Led Change

    Shield of Faith shows what’s possible when solutions are led by communities and rooted in lived experience. By addressing waste, food insecurity, and poverty together, Stella and Shield of Faith is creating a holistic model for sustainable development. With their leadership, waste is no longer just a problem in Kibera… It’s becoming part of the solution.

84. Hands on: Prelude

    July 1, 2025 3:41 am 4 Comments

    On Monday, Emma and I would be making the batches of soap to bring to the schools for our July monitoring. The ‘May’ evaluations indeed became June, I was hoping to do three rounds while I was here, but have since learned that was too ambitious. 

    Or at least that was the plan. Over the weekend Victoria contacted me to set up a meeting. And since she is so difficult to get a meeting with, I had to take it instead of helping make the soap. Then the time of the meeting was changed. And then one last change of the place of the meeting.

    We were scheduled to meet at 10:30, so naturally our meeting started at 11:30. With only Victoria there to help translate, we went through line by line, the budget, timeline and the business plan allowing the ladies to converse and bring up their concerns. I had a nice round 10 items on the agenda that I needed them to at least be cognizant of, if not address. But of course the single item for them was the training, and when they will start.

    Since that was what was motivating them to start, I acquiesced. I started to explain that the money they had been given was to help support them and also to begin the training, and thus was part of the budget. To keep this simple I called this “the little budget”, used for training, with the remainder being “the big budget” used to get their business off the ground. 

    This seemed to work, however it brought up another concern, that I did not communicate at the present time. The money that was generated by the quilt auction was to be split amongst 10 women, and was roughly 7,000 USD. But only 7 would be participating in the business, which means the pool of money left to the business was actually less than their accounting. 

    

    The ladies deliberating

     

    Their next point of contention was the figure Mama Cave had quoted me at, they said it was too much, and the assistance’s fee was unnecessary, and her estimate for sewing machines was too high. A few women stated that they could be the assistance and help the remaining less trained women, and should be compensated for that. I again, did not want to disrupt the momentum of the meeting to point out that they would essentially be paying themselves, and thus further decreasing the remainder of the big budget.

    Their solution was for me to go back and talk to Mama Cave, and get them a better offer. Fearing that the women were on a rudderless ship, I then had Victoria reiterate to them that I could not negotiate on their behalf, they needed to be with me when this conversation was happening, or this back and forth would go on forever. Hoping that someone would step up to steer the group towards making progress. I was disappointed as their silence spoke volumes.

    I eventually got them to concede to coming to meet Mama Cave with me, and that I needed their input into making the business plan. Location scouting (I don’t live in Gulu, how can I decide where is a good location for a business?), pricing (how would I know how much to charge to for a school uniform or dress?) and marketing (its their business, how can I operate their website or social media?). These are things I can, and will to the best of my ability, guide them on, but at the end of the day the business is theirs.

    I feel this lengthy meeting impressed upon them what would be required for the three action items to give them the remainder of the money and for their business to take off. However, with my time in Gulu coming to an end in 29 days (31 July), the ladies’ runway is getting short. 

85. Lull before the Launch

    June 28, 2025 10:26 am 3 Comments

    My presence in Gulu is starting to settle into a rhythm. The boda drivers have memorized my routine between the gym and home. Some have even had multi-ride conversations with me. The novelty of a giant muzungu (white person) walking around Gulu is beginning to fade. The stares are still omnipresent, but more often now they’re accompanied by a wave or even a short conversation. A few strangers have approached just to ask for my WhatsApp number—sometimes even for money.

    The most common questions? “Where are you from?” “Who’s your football team?” “Did you vote for Trump or Obama?” I try to answer politely, even when the questions interrupt a quiet meal or a barber’s shave. Eventually, the interrogation always turns to, “So what brings you to Gulu?” And five weeks into my stay, I still don’t have a clean answer.

    At first, I said, “I’m working for the GDPU this summer.” That didn’t mean much to anyone. Then I tried, “I’m working for an NGO.” That worked a little better—until it sparked follow-up questions or personal stories, often with the unspoken hope of getting help or employment.

    The difficult truth is, I can’t offer much. My mission is to support two small initiatives, and I don’t have the budget or authority to expand beyond that. My scope is narrow—and my time here even more so.

    Diplomatique – Appliqué

    This week began with a meeting with Mama Cave, the woman who would train the WAW women in tailoring to launch their business. Like most things in Gulu, it wasn’t just a matter of setting dates and making payments—it required negotiation. Mama Cave laid out what she could offer, what she expected from the women, and what compensation she required for her time and expertise.

    Much of my week unfolded in the same way: threading conversations, managing expectations, and trying to keep the seams from splitting. Between coordinating with NGOs, reworking plans with the women’s group, and laying groundwork with local officials, I’ve started to think of my role as something like diplomatique – appliqué—a patchwork of diplomacy, mediation, and improvisation, stitched onto a fragile but hopeful design.

    Each day brings a new thread to pull or rethread, adjusting the tension, trying to keep things from unraveling. But if we can hold the stitch—if we can keep the structure intact—something strong, maybe even beautiful, might come from it.

    Yet progress is slow. Much of my time is spent waiting—for responses, for approvals, for someone to hand me the next piece of a puzzle to solve. But that waiting time also allows space to learn. One key lesson: many of the problems stem from competing priorities. Education, health, and women’s empowerment aren’t seen as urgent investments—especially when subsistence farmers are working with razor-thin margins. That’s assuming the harvest was even good this year.

    Next week, we hope to launch a malaria prevention training in partnership with local health clinics. Malaria affects everyone, and we’re hoping that will help catch people’s attention. The clinics will lead the messaging, since we’ve learned the “Western” approach to health outreach rarely lands here. With GDPU covering the clinic’s time and our contribution of 40 liters of hand soap, we hope this first WASH initiative plants a seed that grows.

    This week felt like the quiet moment before everything begins to move at once. With most of our plans finalized, partners confirmed, and supplies gathered, the stage is finally set. Next week, we launch into malaria prevention training, soap-making workshops, and a fresh round of school monitoring. The pace will pick up quickly—but for now, we’ve had a moment to breathe, refocus, and prepare for the push ahead.

     

86. Critical Reflections (3): Nepal’s New TRC Law: Progress or Political Compromise?

    June 27, 2025 6:03 am 5 Comments

    In August 2024, Nepal passed a new Investigation of Enforced Disappeared Persons, Truth and Reconciliation (Third Amendment) Act (TRC Act), marking what seemed at first glance like a significant step forward in addressing the crimes committed during the country’s 1996–2006 armed conflict.

    Indeed, the Act introduces several improvements that appear aligned with international human rights standards: the establishment of a Special Court to handle human rights violations (s 33); the recognition of reparations as a victim’s right at both individual and community levels (s 23); the prioritization of victims of rape, sexual violence, and torture (s 23(3)); the requirement that any mediation between perpetrators and victims/survivors must obtain the latter’s consent (s 25); and the creation of a Transitional Justice (TJ) basket fund (s 35).

    These are important developments, especially in light of Nepal’s troubled history of impunity. Yet, beneath these apparent gains lie serious legal and political flaws that threaten to undermine the spirit of justice the law claims to uphold.

     

    

    Two Kathmandu Post reports capture the tension at the heart of Nepal’s new transitional justice law—one framing it as a long-overdue reset, the other exposing how it still falls short of victims’ needs.

     

    Substantive Concerns: A Step Forward, Two Steps Back

    The 2015 ruling of the Supreme Court of Nepal (Suman Adhikari v Government of Nepal) declared several provisions of the original 2014 TRC Act unconstitutional, especially those that allowed for broad amnesties without victim consent. The Court made it clear that no amnesty should be granted for grave human rights violations such as torture, enforced disappearance, and rape without the explicit, informed consent of victims. The Court ordered the government to amend the law accordingly.

    Rather than implementing this ruling, the government sought to have it reviewed—a request the Court ultimately rejected. While the new TRC Act of 2024 seemingly addresses the Court’s demands by abolishing blanket amnesty provisions, it introduces new mechanisms that may lead to similar outcomes under a different label.

    Under the revised law, human rights violations are divided into two categories:

    (1) Serious human rights violations (Section 2(j1)) include: rape and other forms of serious sexual violence; intentional or arbitrary killings; enforced disappearances; and cruel or inhuman torture—particularly if planned and directed at unarmed individuals or communities.

    (2) Human rights violations (Section 2(j)) include: abductions, assaults, maiming, arson, looting, property damage, and forced displacement—deemed lesser or spontaneous acts.

    Only the former are explicitly excluded from amnesty and must be referred to the Special Court. However, for the latter category, conditional amnesty remains possible if the perpetrator admits guilt, apologizes, and pledges non-repetition (s 26).

    But here lies the first serious flaw: this classification is not legally sound. There is no clear foundation in international law or legal doctrine to justify this method of categorization—it appears more a political compromise than a principled legal framework, and it comes across as arbitrary. Many of the so-called “lesser” violations could, under international law, constitute war crimes or crimes against humanity.

    Furthermore, by limiting the definition of “serious” violations to only planned acts against unarmed individuals, the law creates dangerous loopholes that risk enabling impunity for a broad range of abuses. This narrow framing excludes spontaneous or opportunistic violence, as well as acts committed against combatants or individuals perceived to be associated with the opposing side—many of which could still amount to gross human rights violations under international standards. As a result, serious crimes may be reclassified as “lesser” simply because they were not premeditated or did not target civilians in a particular way, thereby allowing perpetrators to evade meaningful accountability through conditional amnesty or reduced sentencing.

    The most striking flaw is the 75% Sentence Reduction Loophole. Even more troubling is the provision allowing the Attorney General or public prosecutor to request up to a 75% reduction in sentencing for perpetrators of serious violations—except in cases of rape or serious sexual violence (s 27(2)). While technically not an amnesty, this leniency weakens the impact of criminal accountability.

    Take the example of enforced disappearance: although it cannot be amnestied and must go to the Special Court, the perpetrator may still walk away with only 25% of the full sentence. This is de facto amnesty, even if it is not labeled as such. International law prohibits both de jure and de facto amnesties for gross human rights violations.

    This introduces a near-contradiction within the law. On one hand, it appears to respect the Supreme Court’s prohibition of amnesty for serious crimes. On the other hand, it permits sentence reduction for all but one subset of those crimes. As a result, almost all conflict-related crimes may fall under one of two categories: those eligible for conditional amnesty, and those eligible for substantial sentence reductions.

    Another important issue is the role of victim consent. While the law makes amnesty contingent upon such consent—a notable improvement over the 2014 version and seemingly in line with the Supreme Court’s 2015 ruling—it fails to clarify what happens if victims withhold consent or if all the required conditions are not met. This lack of legal clarity opens the door to arbitrary interpretation and inconsistent implementation, ultimately weakening the protection of victims’ rights.

    Procedural Challenges and Implementation Gaps

    Procedurally, the Act lays out a comprehensive mechanism:

    (1) The TRC and CIEDP are to receive and investigate complaints (ss 6 and 7);

    (2) Cases involving serious violations are referred to the Attorney General (s 30);

    (3) A three-member Special Court under the Supreme Court is to try these cases (s 33);

    (4) An appeals bench within the Supreme Court will hear appeals (s 34).

    However, as of June 2025, implementation has stalled. The Special Court has been established, but the appointment of commissioners to the TRC and CIEDP remains contentious. Victim groups have criticized the selection process as political, opaque, and non-consultative, in violation of the Act’s own provisions requiring public input on nominations (s 10(5)).

    Moreover, the commissions have broad discretion in facilitating mediation in cases of lesser violations. While victim consent is formally required, the Act does not clarify what happens if consent is withheld, nor does it specify the standards necessary to ensure that such consent is genuinely free and informed (s 25).

    Persistent concerns also remain. Even if the Special Court and the appeals bench become fully operational, the anticipated volume of cases raises serious doubts about the system’s capacity to process them efficiently. Given Nepal’s longstanding history of weak implementation of Supreme Court decisions, there is a well-founded concern that similar challenges will undermine the effectiveness of this new judicial structure.

    Conclusion: A Fragile Framework in Need of Vigilance

    Nepal’s new TRC Act introduces several promising reforms, but it also perpetuates problematic legacies of compromise and leniency. The distinction between “serious” and “lesser” violations lacks a solid legal foundation, while the provision allowing a 75% reduction in sentences risks undermining accountability for even the gravest crimes. Ongoing procedural uncertainties and the absence of meaningful victim participation in implementation decisions further exacerbate these concerns.

    Views on the new transitional justice law vary. While some acknowledge its incremental progress, many—especially victims and survivors—remain deeply critical. As this blog has reflected, despite certain advances, serious flaws persist. These are compounded by the government’s longstanding pattern of flawed and stalled implementation. For victims and survivors, the law still falls far short of delivering justice.

    Yet one consensus remains clear: without robust oversight, genuine political will, and the full inclusion of victims and survivors, Nepal’s transitional justice process risks repeating past failures—only this time under a different name.

87. Hurry Up, and Wait

    June 23, 2025 2:15 am 6 Comments

    Sometimes things move at a glacial pace in Gulu. For someone like me, who lives by the belief that good things don’t come to those who wait, but to those who seize them—this can be deeply frustrating. In the Army, we had a saying: “Hurry up, and wait.” It meant moving quickly and decisively, only to end up stuck in limbo, waiting on someone else to act. Whether it’s filling out yet another form or tracking down the right person for a signature, the friction of bureaucracy can grind your momentum to a halt.

    I’ve kept that sense of urgency in my civilian life. The speed at which I eat, study, and approach the mundane parts of daily life still hovers somewhere between frantic and breakneck. But this is Africa. TIA—“This is Africa”—as they say (a phrase popularized in Blood Diamond, and one I’ve heard more times than I can count). Things move differently here.

     

    

    The largest snail I’ve ever seen

     

    On Monday, we scheduled a meeting with a promising new partner for school support: Prudence, the director of a local NGO called Her Worth. Her organization teaches girls to make reusable menstrual pads—even with materials found in the most remote villages. Our meeting was set for 10 a.m. She arrived around 10:30.

    Despite the delay, the conversation was productive. Her team had been running workshops in schools on menstruation, hygiene, sexual health, and combating stigma—exactly the kind of support the GDPO wants to expand. By linking her work with local health clinics, we could potentially broaden the program to cover malaria prevention and inclusivity training—both crucial to keeping kids in school.

    Of course, we had to talk numbers. Prudence promised to send us a rough budget by the end of the day.

    We received it two days later.

    Still, it was a start. Her Worth would provide the labor and training; we’d handle materials and transport. We agreed to a one-year pilot at three schools, with a reassessment down the line based on results.

    Meetings About Meetings

     

    

    This road had all the NGO headquarters on it

     

    Incremental headway was also being made with the DEO. We were invited to two working groups that meet monthly, in order to coordinate working with other NGOs, and hopefully to further demonstrate our evaluation tool. Well, almost. Before that, we need to have another preliminary meeting with the DEO, and another official. This tedious impediment worked out anyway, as we had missed the meetings for this month.

    Prior to this meeting about future meetings, we met with the local representatives of World Vision and Save the Children…

    Or at least we would have. The morning of the meeting, rain was falling. Essentially grinding the city of Gulu to a halt. As I sat alone in the office, being the only one to show up at the normal time, I wondered whether the meeting would be postponed or outright cancelled. My co-workers began trickling in around 11:30 and apparently the meeting was still on.

    The meeting took place at 3:30, and although it was incredibly belated, it was fruitful. Our working group collaborators was beginning to take shape.

    Starting Slow to Start Strong

    On Friday, the team and I met with Victoria, Nighty and Margaret of the Survivors sewing group to discuss the next steps to take. I mentioned the need for a mission statement, business model and plan, targeted market, types of products they could make, sales and growth plan, future sustainability and a tentative two-year budget. They countered with their refrain that they wanted to begin training.

    I informed them, I don’t see the money coming until these concerns are addressed. If they’re trying to start a business, they need more than training and hope. I could sense their frustration, as I had become their obstacle they had to hurry up and wait on. Understandably so, but my task was to help establish a business and to give them the best avenue to success that I could muster. Only giving the ladies training would simply not suffice. 

    We compromised, by setting up another meeting, with all 7 ladies that wanted to participate, to address the different points I brought up, while discussing the budget needed for their training. 

    If this week taught me anything, it’s that progress here doesn’t always arrive on time—but it does arrive. Slowly. Unevenly. Sometimes in half-finished emails or rain-soaked meetings that start six hours late. The work gets done—but not always on my timeline.

     

    

    Myself, with Joe translating, across from Nighty, Margaret, Emma, and Victoria

     

    Adjusting my watch to Africa time

    In the Army, “hurry up and wait” was a source of frustration. Here in Gulu, I’m learning that it’s also a lesson in patience. Because maybe the waiting isn’t a pause in the mission. Maybe it is the mission—forcing us to listen more, assume less, and build trust in a rhythm not our own.

    It turns out consistency does exist here. It just wears a different watch.

88. Silenced No More: The Voices of Nepal’s Women Survivors of Sexual Violence

    June 20, 2025 11:34 pm 5 Comments

    Around 6:00 PM on 19 June 2025, a quiet yet powerful scene unfolded in Ratna Park, Kathmandu. Women stood side by side, lighting candles arranged in the shape of a question mark—a poignant symbol asking why nothing meaningful has been done for survivors of sexual violence during the conflict, and why the selection of officials for the transitional justice commissions continues to ignore the voices of victims.

    

    Women with black bandages over their mouths

    They wore black bandages over their mouths, a stark reminder of how women’s voices have been silenced for decades. For too long, women who endured sexual violence during Nepal’s armed conflict have been silenced—by fear, by shame, and by a society that chose not to listen.

    

    Candles laid out in the shape of a “?”

    The event was organized by Transitional Justice and Gender Network, coordinated by Conflict Victims Women Network. It was not just a vigil—it was an act of resistance, a collective cry for justice, and a tribute to those who have lived through the darkest shadows of war.

    Two of those women recently shared their stories with us.

    “What kind of compensation can ever compensate us?”

    One of them is a woman from an indigenous community in rural Nepal. For years, she kept her story buried deep inside, hidden beneath layers of stigma and pain. During the conflict, her family was torn apart. Her sister, forced to drop out of school due to financial hardship, joined the Maoist movement out of desperation. Later, government forces stormed their home. Her sister was arrested, tortured, and raped in custody. The respondent herself was also beaten and sexually assaulted.

    In the aftermath, the family was treated like pariahs. Their neighbors warned their children not to associate with them, afraid the military might come after them too. The family was left to survive in hiding, with little food and no support. Both parents later died, broken by trauma and poverty.

    For decades, she remained silent. The deep social stigma surrounding sexual violence kept her in the shadows. Her mother had once told her, “We suffer this by ourselves. Never speak of it.” But things changed when she enrolled in a Master’s program in anthropology in Kathmandu. For the first time, she felt seen, heard, and supported. In that academic space, she found not only knowledge—but also community, strength, and the courage to speak out.

    She decided to tell her story—not because she expected anything in return, but because it needed to be heard. “What kind of compensation can ever compensate us?” she asked. There was no bitterness in her voice, only truth.

    She has only recently begun attending events like the candlelight vigil, unsure whether these spaces will offer real help. But she shows up anyway, driven by a quiet hope that speaking out will light the way for others.

    

    “End Sexual Violence in Conflict: Justice for Survivors, Accountability for Perpetrators!”

    They had to speak for themselves, because no one else would.

    Another woman we interviewed is now a lawyer and a national advocate. But her journey began in unimaginable pain. In 2002, her sister was disappeared by state forces while visiting a district hospital. Three years later, her brother was taken from their home, tortured, and killed. Her parents were routinely harassed and beaten.

    She has taken her grief and turned it into advocacy. She has helped build a nationwide network connecting victims’ families, collecting cases, and organizing events that empower women from the grassroots to lead.

    She speaks with frustration about how the government and some agencies continue to ignore the voices of victims. She strongly criticizes the recent appointments to Nepal’s transitional justice commissions, which were made without the legally required seven-day public notice and without any consultation with victims.

    “The law may be on paper,” she said, referring to the 2024 revised Truth and Reconciliation Commission Act (TRC Act) that finally recognizes sexual violence as a conflict-era crime, “but the implementation hasn’t even begun.”

    In 2022, she, with other women, helped formally establish a women’s victims’ group under CVCP, recognizing that women’s stories were still being sidelined—even within the broader victims’ movement.

    A Light in the Darkness

    Back at Ratna Park, the candles flickered in the wind and rain just outside the shelter. The black bands across the women’s mouths spoke volumes—saying what words could not: that for too long, survivors of sexual violence have been made to feel invisible, impure, and unworthy of justice.

    But these women are silent no more. Whether standing in a courtroom or sitting in a university classroom, cautiously attending their first public gathering or leading a nationwide campaign—they are reclaiming their voices, their dignity, and their rightful place in the story of Nepal’s past and future.

    And though justice may come slowly, the light they carry burns on.

    

    Lighting the candles

     

    • Watch: A powerful 40-minute documentary on Nepal’s undefeated survivors of wartime sexual violence | Witness Documentary.

     

89. Honoring the Disappeared: A Day of Memory, Resistance, and Hope in Nepal

    June 19, 2025 1:26 am 5 Comments

    “We are questioning, our next generation is questioning, the state about our families.”

    On 17 June 2025 (2082/03/03), at the Nepal Academy in Kamaladi, Kathmandu, families of Nepal’s forcibly disappeared came together in an emotional and powerful commemorative program. Organized by the Missing Warrior Family Society Nepal and the Bipin Bhandari Foundation, the event marked 23 years since the enforced disappearance of 1,096 individuals by the state during Nepal’s armed conflict—lives lost in silence, names withheld, memories kept alive by the resilience of those they left behind.

     

    

    The program to commemorate and honor the missing warriors

     

    This interactive program served as both a memorial and a political statement. It remembered disappeared fighters like Bipin Bhandari, Ramhari Rupakheti, Devraj Paudel, Krishna Bahadur Basnet, and Dil Bahadur Rai—who, like many others, vanished without accountability or truth. In particular, Bipin Bhandari and Dil Bahadur Rai, both disappeared from Kathmandu on the same day in 2002, were given special remembrance.

     

    

    Faces of the Disappeared

     

    Bipin’s father, who also serves as the chairman of the Bipin Bhandari Foundation, was the first speaker. His voice, unwavering yet sorrowful, spoke not only of his personal loss but of the larger collective injustice suffered by thousands of families across the country. Representatives from different victims’ groups followed, as well as politicians, journalists, intellectuals, and human rights activists—all of whom bore witness to the ongoing struggle for truth and justice.

    The event was not just a remembrance but a direct call to action. Victim families reiterated their long-standing demand: no transitional justice commission without consultation and representation of victims. Despite two commissions having been dismantled in the past, the government once again failed to involve victims in the formation of the most recent body. Political parties have repeatedly ignored the pleas of survivors, choosing instead to manage transitional justice as a closed political affair.

     

    

    The Victims’ Families Were Present

     

    “This day is for memory,” said Ram Bhandari, a leading transitional justice expert. “For 23–24 years, the government has not listened to our grievances. The disappeared—rebels, activists, political prisoners—are not being heard.” His words struck a chord in a room filled with grief, fatigue, and persistence.

     

    

    Ram Bhandari Speaking

     

    Dr. Sundar Mani Dixit added a sobering observation: “Leaders are afraid. If a sovereign commission is formed and victims start asking for legal reparations, the issue might move to international courts.” He also remarked on the natural fatigue of the movement, warning that its slowing momentum might be a sign of collective exhaustion rather than reconciliation.

    Yet voices like that of Nisha Neupane, representing families of the disappeared, reminded all present why the struggle must continue. “I don’t like to call myself a victim,” she said. “If our families hadn’t risked their lives, we wouldn’t have the federal republic we enjoy today.” Acknowledging the gendered dimension of this loss, she emphasized that the freedoms women have today are built on the sacrifices of the disappeared.

     

    

    A Mother’s Grief in Song for the Disappeared

     

    The program underscored a painful truth: the trust of the victims’ families has been repeatedly manipulated in political bargains. Transitional justice in Nepal has become a process defined by exclusion—where those most affected are left out of decisions that are supposed to deliver justice for them.

    It is worth noting that, while mainstream parliamentary parties continue to ignore this reality, some political leaders are beginning to acknowledge the growing pressure. Notably, a few party leaders were present at the event.

    But the event also carried hope: hope rooted in memory, solidarity, and the continued courage of families who refuse to let their loved ones be forgotten. Their demands remain consistent: Public acknowledgment of all disappeared citizens; Full participation of victims’ representatives in transitional justice mechanisms; Genuine, independent, and sovereign truth and justice commissions.

    As one father said, “We are questioning. Our next generation is questioning. And we will continue to question until justice is done.”

     

    

    Photo of Victims’ Groups, Political Leaders, and Human Rights Activists at the Event

     

    Songs Dedicated to the Disappeared

     

90. Critical Reflections (2): Persistent Gaps in Nepal’s Transitional Justice Process

    June 16, 2025 1:52 am 3 Comments

    A genuinely victim-centered transitional justice process in Nepal must address several interconnected and often underexplored dimensions. Although many of these concerns have been repeatedly raised by national and international actors alike, they continue to demand deeper engagement, sustained research, and stronger political will. These areas of concern are grounded in international legal standards and informed by practice in Nepal, though they are also common to many transitional justice contexts. Paying closer attention to these issues in Nepal not only promises a more just and inclusive process but may also contribute to global best practices.

    1. Gender Perspective

    Women and girls experienced unique forms of harm during the conflict, including sexual violence, displacement, and stigmatization. A gender-sensitive approach must go beyond formal inclusion to actively prioritize the needs of female survivors and women-led households, particularly widows and single mothers. However, victims of sexual violence were not adequately recognized by Nepal’s transitional justice framework for many years. Despite both international and domestic advocacy, such violations were often excluded from official narratives. The institutional mechanisms, including the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), initially failed to provide dedicated procedures or support systems for these survivors.

    • Watch: A 47-minute documentary on Nepal’s undefeated survivors of wartime sexual violence | Witness Documentary.

    2. Historically Marginalized Groups

    Indigenous peoples, Dalits, Madhesi communities, and other marginalized populations not only suffered disproportionately during the conflict but also continue to face entrenched discrimination. Transitional justice must confront both conflict-era abuses and the structural inequalities that predate and persist beyond them. However, much of the attention and reporting has been centered on Kathmandu, which does not fully reflect the experiences and needs of these historically marginalized groups. Moreover, different communities have distinct social, cultural, and political contexts, which shape their experiences of both harm and justice. These differences require more nuanced, community-specific research and engagement to ensure that transitional justice mechanisms are truly inclusive and responsive.

    3. Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (ESC Rights)

    Justice must not be confined to courts, commissions, or legal remedies alone. Reparation must also involve long-term support for education, healthcare, housing, and livelihood opportunities—especially in rural and conflict-affected areas where survivors remain vulnerable and underserved. However, traditional approaches to transitional justice have largely focused on civil and political (CP) rights, often sidelining the everyday socio-economic struggles faced by victims. While CP rights are of course essential, survivors must also be able to rebuild their lives. Access to housing, food, education, and healthcare all requires resources—and in many cases, the family breadwinners were killed or disappeared during the conflict. Transitional justice, therefore, cannot be viewed solely through a CP rights lens. It is equally a matter of ESC rights, and more broadly, one of development justice. In this context, the Sustainable Development Goals’ commitment that “no one will be left behind” becomes not only relevant, but urgent.

    4. Transdisciplinary Approach

    Achieving meaningful justice in Nepal requires collaboration across multiple disciplines—legal, psychological, anthropological, and developmental. VMs have already demonstrated this in practice, combining legal advocacy with psychosocial support, community mobilization, and peacebuilding initiatives. Transitional justice is, by its nature, a long-term process. While it addresses violations of rights, it also responds to the psychological trauma and social fragmentation left in the wake of conflict. A transdisciplinary approach is essential to ensure that transitional justice is not only legally sound, but also socially transformative and responsive to the holistic needs of survivors.

    To conclude, Nepal’s transitional justice journey illustrates that justice is a long-term process shaped by power dynamics, social conditions, and the persistent efforts of those most affected by conflict. In this landscape, civil society organizations have emerged as a vital force—sustaining momentum when institutions falter and ensuring that justice is defined not only in legal terms, but in human ones. The work is ongoing, and much still needs to be done to make the process more inclusive, accountable, and responsive to the lived realities of survivors.

     

91. Critical Reflections (1): The Power of Victim Movements in Nepal’s Transitional Justice Process

    1:24 am 4 Comments

     

    

    Ram Bhandari, founder of the Network of Families of the Disappeared Nepal (NEFAD) meets with Nepal’s Prime Minister Oli to share the statement of survivors of conflict

     

    Transitional justice in Nepal is not merely a legal or human rights concern—it is inextricably linked to broader challenges of development, structural inequality, and the historical marginalization of communities. While international legal frameworks and national legal reforms play essential roles, they cannot alone address the deeply entrenched legacies of violence or provide meaningful redress. Nepal’s experience underscores the need for a transdisciplinary, victim-centered approach—one that is sensitive to the country’s complex social, cultural, and historical realities. At the heart of this approach lies the vital role of Victim Movements (VMs).

    International Norms and Local Realities

     

    

     

    International legal instruments—such as the Updated Set of Principles for the Protection and Promotion of Human Rights through Action to Combat Impunity and the Basic Principles and Guidelines on the Right to a Remedy and Reparation—provide a foundational normative framework for transitional justice. These documents affirm key rights: truth, justice, reparation, and guarantees of non-recurrence. More recently, the UN Special Rapporteur on the promotion of truth, justice, reparation and guarantees of non-recurrence has emphasized the need for context-sensitive, inclusive, and participatory approaches.

    However, these standards must be translated into practice within specific local contexts. In many post-conflict settings, where state-led mechanisms have stalled or failed, civil society organizations (CSOs) have emerged as indispensable actors in sustaining human rights protection. Yet, in the context of transitional justice—particularly in Nepal—it is critical to distinguish between general CSOs and victims’ groups (VGs) that directly represent and embody the lived experiences and agency of survivors.

    Not all CSOs can authentically reflect the voices and priorities of victims. Many operate without meaningful victim participation and thus risk reproducing top-down approaches that are disconnected from survivors’ daily realities. Therefore, while acknowledging the broader significance of CSOs in human rights work, this analysis focuses on VGs—organizations formed by and for victims—which collectively constitute Nepal’s VM.

    This focus aligns with the normative imperative of a victim-centered approach in transitional justice. Victims’ participation is essential in shaping the design, implementation, and outcomes of justice and reparation processes. Where state efforts have faltered, VGs have taken on the critical task of conducting research and advocating for policies that reflect survivors’ voices and needs.

    Victims’ Groups as Drivers of Justice from Below

     

    

     

    Since the signing of the Comprehensive Peace Accord in 2006, grassroots VGs have played a pivotal role in advancing transitional justice in Nepal. Over the years, these groups have stepped in to fill the void left by underperforming or politically constrained state institutions. More recently, in an effort to amplify the voices of survivors and strengthen their collective impact, VMs have emerged as coalitions of victim-led organizations from across the country. These sustained efforts have preserved collective memory, created safe spaces for truth-telling, and challenged attempts to reduce justice to elite-driven negotiations or mere symbolic gestures.

    By centering the voices of survivors, these movements have pushed legal and political processes to become more inclusive and more closely aligned with the lived realities of conflict-affected communities. VMs have also served as crucial intermediaries, connecting abstract legal frameworks with the concrete experiences and demands of victims. Their contributions have been recognized in reports by the United Nations and by international organizations such as the International Center for Transitional Justice (ICTJ) and Human Rights Watch (HRW).

    Nonetheless, much work remains. Bridging the gap between international standards and Nepal’s complex post-conflict context requires sustained and respectful engagement with victims—not merely as recipients of justice, but as active participants and agents of change.

    Under both international human rights law and Nepal’s constitutional framework, the state bears a clear obligation to hear the voices of victims and to fulfil its responsibilities in delivering justice and reparation. In the absence of adequate state action, grassroots VGs have taken it upon themselves to conduct empirical research and ensure that victims’ perspectives are reflected in policy discussions and transitional justice processes. However, it is essential to emphasize that the role of VGs does not—and will not—replace or diminish the state’s obligations. Their efforts are a response to institutional stagnation, aimed at ensuring that the voices of victims are not silenced, but meaningfully included.

     

    

    Representatives of survivors and victims meet with the media in Kathmandu

     

     

    You can see some recent developments in Nepal’s transitional justice process here: Heed conflict victims; Justice must be victim-led: INOVAS statement of solidarity with the victims of Nepal – INOVAS.

92. Consistently Inconsistent

    June 15, 2025 12:03 pm 4 Comments

    Consistently Inconsistent

    In the Army, specifically in the infantry, we are told to expect nothing and be grateful; “every wink of sleep is a restful night. Every paycheck is a fortune. And every meal is a feast.” This mindset has helped me persevere and overcome obstacles in the most austere conditions. It has also made me extremely grateful for my circumstances. As I have grown into a routine in Gulu, I am less troubled by the trivial inconveniences that we in America often take for granted. Rolling with the punches that surprise me in my day-to-day life. 

    I wake up very early during the week; around 5:45. That is because it takes roughly 20 minutes to walk to the gym. Some days I can catch a boda, but if they’re not around; I’m walking. Instead of taking a pre-workout supplement, I’ve taken to drinking a ‘rock boom’, a local energy drink. If, when, and which convenience stores are open, which varies day to day. The same goes for the refrigeration units in the stores, sometimes they keep drinks cool, others are simply cabinets with transparent doors. 

    The gym I use is in a hotel complex up the hill. There is supposed to be an attendant to sign me in and hand me a towel. Sometimes they are busy elsewhere, sometimes the attendant is asleep at the desk. In either case I usually just sign myself in, and take a towel when available (without disturbing their rest). The gym itself is a mishmash of equipment and dumbbells, in an area roughly 500 sq ft. Despite the state of the equipment and my size and weights I require I am able to squeeze in a work out. Both literally and figuratively.

    My lodging advertises they have air conditioning, internet and food. What they fail to mention is they rarely have all three amenities together. The power, and therefore the internet, goes out at the slightest touch of precipitation (or sometimes even just threatening clouds). Given that I’ve arrived during the rainy season, I’ve grown accustomed to finding my way to the bathroom or descending the stairs in the dark.

    The only consistent thing is how inconsistent things here are. This includes whether I’m getting a freezing shower, or a scalding shower after the gym. Or whether a restaurant I order at has any of the food items on the menu. It’s just another thing to shrug off. However this inconsistency is also extrapolated to the seven schools we’ve been visiting.

     

    Clerical Work

    It took three days to visit all seven schools. This is not only because of distance and road conditions. Each day the plan is to set out by 9 am sharp, but we have yet to set out before 10:30, for various reasons. Yet having finished our initial tour of the schools for fine-tuning the monitoring and evaluation tool and to gather an estimate for repair work, each school is all over the place in terms of hygiene, disrepair and management. 

    Each school we visited revealed a different configuration of hygiene standards, structural decay, and administrative capacity. One, however, stood out—Tochi Primary School. It was perhaps the smallest, and home to the oldest GDPO-installed latrine, but it made a lasting impression. Despite its aging buildings and modest grounds, the school had handwashing stations easily accessible to students—something shockingly rare elsewhere. When we asked for data—on enrollment, disability inclusion, cleaning rosters, budget records—it was all there, neatly filed and clearly explained by the school’s headmistress, Sister Lucy Grace, a soft-spoken nun currently slowed by a foot injury

     

    

    Sister Lucy Grace, Headmistress of Tochi Primary School

     

    No other school was as organized or as transparent. Sister Lucy had multi-year budgets and a forward-looking to-do list. She proudly showed us the improvements made under her tenure: the repaired school sign, consistent water at the wash stations, even wood ash added to the latrines to cut down the smell. But her success only highlighted the limits of determination.

     

    

    The detailed hand-written records kept by the Sister

     

    The entire school—over 500 students—relied on one latrine with just two stances, one per gender. The other latrines were beyond repair, and the pits beneath them weren’t even designed to be drained. Without sustained community engagement or government support, she had reached a ceiling.

    That was the common thread. Every school was distinct in its strengths and shortcomings—some had proactive staff, others barely functioning leadership—but all faced real and immediate need. Each one showed, in its own way, how hard it is to maintain progress when the ground is constantly shifting beneath you.

    And while the GDPO’s role matters, it has limits. We can monitor, advise, and support better hygiene practices. But we can’t fund school feeding programs, rebuild collapsing classrooms, or stock clinics with medicine. In a place where even the basics—power, water, transport—can’t be counted on, the scale of what’s needed often far outpaces what we can provide.

    Toilet & Embroidery Diplomacy

    The week concluded with two meetings, each would shape their respective projects for long after I’d departed Gulu. The first was with the Gulu district official for education. I would be the first member of the AP meeting with the new official and hoped to represent the organization well, so as to facilitate future cooperation. I brought with me the monitoring tool and some graphs I made using the small amount of statistics we were able to gleam for some razzle-dazzle. Everyone loves statistical analysis.

    

    The meeting, I feel, went very well. The DEO (District Education Officer) seemed very impressed with our monitoring tool, and its usefulness moving forward. We also discussed Gulu’s partnerships with other NGOs with more resources such as Save The Children and World Vision, and discussed joining the ‘Education Working Group’ with them, to combine coordination and build the GDPO network to increase longevity and effectiveness. This is a great first step to improve our relationship with the government, as we can offer a more comprehensive and sophisticated monitoring system, and perhaps parlay that into selling of liquid soap for the whole district, and eventually a more robust coordination when it comes to constructing future facilities for the schools.

    The second meeting was with the Women in Action for Women’s (WAW) chosen representative Nighty, to begin moving forward with their enterprise. 

    With Joe helping to translate, she reiterated to me that the women were ready to begin their training with Mama Cave. Understandable, but my goal was to help them establish a business plan and a budget in order for their business to be sustainable. However, people do not plan to fail, they fail to plan, and simply acquiring tailoring skills is not sufficient. I laid out some of the challenges I foresaw the business encountering; things like cash flow, quality control, access to the market and competition. I was taken aback when Nighty relayed to me these issues had actually already been discussed amongst the group. She then informed me of their system of profit sharing and responsibility scheme that they had concocted. 

    Once again I left the meeting impressed. We had scheduled another meeting, to take place with all of the ladies, plus Victoria and Mama Cave, to hammer out the details and their vision for their business. From there we can move forward, while planning backward; starting with the end goal while setting up intermediary goals that lead into one another a la the US Army Reverse Planning Method (US Army FM 3-21.10). From there, the ladies can establish a training start date.

    As the week wound down, I found myself reflecting on the unpredictable rhythm that has come to define my time in Gulu. One day you’re stepping around puddles in the dark because the power’s out—again. Next, you’re in a district office pitching a monitoring tool that might just outlive your time here. It’s a place where things often don’t go according to plan—but where, somehow, things still get done.

    That’s what stands out most: not the inconsistency itself, but the people who persist in spite of it. Whether it’s Sister Lucy running a school with grace and grit, or a group of women survivors organizing profit-sharing structures before their first stitch is sewn, there’s a kind of quiet resilience here that mirrors what I learned in the infantry—expect little, appreciate everything, and move forward anyway.

    So much of this work isn’t about fixing broken things outright. It’s about finding a way to move through the mess, to build systems that can survive the next power cut, the next rainstorm, the next government reshuffle. If consistency is too much to ask, then maybe consistency in purpose is the next best thing.

    

    (from left to right) Emma, Aaron and Nighty, prior to the meeting

93. Returning, Rethinking, Rediscovering

    9:45 am 5 Comments

    With each return to Nepal – now my fourth visit – the country feels less like a distant land and more like my second home. It’s been two and a half years since my last extended stay, yet the rhythm of life in Kathmandu remains intimately familiar. The vibrant sounds of temples, incessant honking, music drifting in the background, the loud whistle of the pressure cooker, the semi-aggressive “Oi, sauji!” (Hey, shopkeeper!), the tender “Tapaaile khana bho?” (Have you eaten?), and the curious “Kahaa aaunu bhayo?” (Where have you come from?) all carry a comforting sense of recognition – like flashbacks to a period when Patan, beautiful as ever, was indeed my home.

    And yet, oddly enough, things feel a little different now – still familiar, but shaped by the subtle shifts in perspective that time, distance, and a year of graduate school in Washington, DC have quietly brought.

     

                         

     

    I return to Nepal this time as a Peace Fellow, second-year graduate student and committed scholar of gender, international development and social justice. While the field sites and work ahead will differ significantly from my previous work assignments, I remain cautiously optimistic about the journey and learning that awaits me in Nepal’s far-western region. My friends in Kathmandu tell me to prepare for a “completely different world in the west.” And still, I embrace this challenge with curiosity, humility, and a deep fascination for all I have yet to discover – and of course with lots of chiso paani (cold water). After all, I am headed to the Terai.

    Home to the city of Tulsipur, the district of Dang offers a markedly different experience from the bustling, tourist-centered hubs of Kathmandu and Pokhara. A bus ride roughly 12 hours westward will get you there, though my own journey took nearly 16 hours – a ride not easily forgotten. There are no trekking shops or tourist-y stores in Tulsipur. Roads remain unpaved, rocky and quite dusty. The timing and frequency of power outages seem to be a consistent feature of daily life here too. Restaurants are simple and straightforward, serving mostly traditional Nepali khana ra khaja (food and snacks). It’s also hot – really hot. When the sun is at its peak, it feels as though the heat zaps the life right out of you, but I’m slowly adjusting to the temperatures and learning to move at the pace the climate demands. I also spotted two dead snakes on my first day in town – enough to reinforce the advice I’d already been given: to be careful of snakes, especially after dark.

     

    

    A traditional mud home in Tulsipur, sitting beneath the unrelenting sun and heat.

     

    In contrast to the anonymity I am used to feeling in the capital or Pokhara, my presence in Tulsipur is immediately noticeable. Blending in here is nearly impossible, no matter how much I try. My old New Balance shoes seem to draw attention, the way I drink from a water bottle feels out of place, and even the simplest clothes I packed from home still carry markers of class privilege and a certain degree of otherness.

    My Nepali, which, admittedly, is a bit rusty – often adds to the confusion of those around me. Locals and skeptics alike seem unsure: Am I bideshi (a foreigner)? Am I half-Nepali? A Nepali who lives/works abroad? Is my father Nepali? Am I married? Who is my husband? I find myself constantly faced with, and at times even dodging, these questions. For many, it’s surprising that a Mexican-American like me could resemble a distant Nepali relative. And yet, I exist in that in-between space, quietly navigating the duality of belonging and otherness. If only the locals knew how many hours I’ve spent with tutors and in language classes over the years! And here I am in the west, still stumbling through conversations like it’s day one. The way the dialect keeps changing has me totally spun around!

    In spite of all this I do my best to convey to others, “Ma Nepali hoina. Ma ek saya percent Mexican-American manche hu. Malaai bishwas garnuhos!” (I am not Nepali. I am one hundred percent Mexican-American. Please believe me!) But sometimes, I think they still do not.

    In far-west Nepal, where society is tightly woven through familial, gendered, religious, hierarchical and caste-based relationships, my difference is quickly noticed. Being both an insider and outsider shapes how I listen, how I ask questions, and how I’m allowed into conversations. It’s a humbling position – one that continually reminds me that meaningful work in international development begins with relationship-building, not assumptions.

     

    

    Alexis (left), Pabitra Bādi (center), and Pinky (right)

     

    As an outsider with limited local ties and a visible difference, I recognize that the project I am undertaking in the west will pose personal and professional challenges. Operating within the deeply entrenched traditions and social hierarchies specific to the western region requires careful navigation, cultural sensitivity, and sustained engagement with some potentially difficult realities.

    Luckily, I have been paired with Pinky at BASE, who has already demonstrated herself to be a valuable source of knowledge. She is a Tulsipur local with some proficiency in Tharu, has a working understanding of Madheshi (indigenous) languages, and has extensive experience managing several projects at BASE.

     

    

    Pinky (left) and Alexis (right) enjoying their first meeting in Tulsipur

     

    We plan to visit several villages and districts beyond Dang to assess the livelihoods, well-being, and income sources of various marginalized, low-caste communities. We will survey these communities and aim to develop income-generating pathways rooted in their traditional knowledge and skills, handicrafts, or locally produced commodities. For now, our goal is to attempt to reframe the conversation on caste-based discrimination and exclusion, shifting the focus away from social shunning and isolation toward economic empowerment, resilience, and community-driven opportunity and cooperation. I recognize that our goals and perspectives between AP and BASE are not fixed; I expect they will evolve, sometimes subtly, sometimes profoundly, with each day and every new encounter.

    This is undeniably an ambitious task. But if my time in Nepal and graduate school has taught me anything, it is that meaningful change, especially within deeply entrenched social, cultural, and gendered systems, requires patience, receptiveness, and a willingness to observe and listen more than speak. I am mindful that progress is likely to be slow and incremental, but it begins with building solid relationships, establishing trust, and recognizing that these communities are the experts in understanding and sharing their own lives. It’s a fitting reminder of the Nepali proverb, “Jivan yastai chha,’ which means, ‘such is life.’

94. Getting Down to Business

    June 9, 2025 4:26 am 2 Comments

    Spreadsheets

     

    My introduction to spreadsheets came early—at nine years old—when I made Pokémon charts to optimize my team. Since then, my skills have evolved through years of military logistics and now graduate studies, where I routinely manage data and build tracking systems.

    At the WASH project, my first assignment was to overhaul their monitoring spreadsheet for rural school latrines. Using the original questionnaire as a guide, I cleaned up the structure, streamlined it for easier use, and linked it to a Google Form. This allows field staff to input data directly from their phones, reducing manual entry and errors.

    The goal is to track maintenance more consistently—many schools let their new facilities fall into disrepair due to inconsistent oversight. Ideally, the investment alone would motivate better care, but that hasn’t always been the case. With this new system, at least now we’ll know. I hope the effort I put into refining these tools will encourage their continued use after I leave, as I believe the capacity for monitoring will help elevate GDPU in stature in the eyes of the local government and schools, as well as western NGOs proving their donations would be well spent.

    Monitoring

     

    This first round of monitoring of the schools throughout the Gulu region, was to be our first field test for the new system, technically happened the first week of June. We counted this as our May visit, and would visit again toward the end of June. On the day we initially scheduled to head out for our first batch of schools, we hit a snag. The GDPU van was being used by the driver for a “personal reason”. This reason, and exactly how long we would need to wait was never adequately explained to me. We made plans to set out the following day.

    We had planned to leave early around 8:30. So true to my military conditioning, I arrived at 8:15. The GDPU staff began to trickle in around 9:15, saying that Emma’s son was ill, so she would be late. Seems that everyone else got the memo, but informing me had slipped through the cracks, to my annoyance. We finally departed at 10:30, with a team of five: Emma, Joe, David (a contractor for repair assessments), the driver, and myself.

    

    On the road to monitoring

     

    Leaving Gulu, the shift was immediate: the paved roads ended abruptly, turning to rust-red dirt tracks. Boda bodas were replaced by roadside cattle and goats.

    Although our destinations weren’t far as the crow flies, it took nearly two hours to reach the first school, another two to get to the second and another hour to get to the third, thanks to road obstacles, deep ruts, and the general slow-going terrain.

    Although I had seen the AP video prior to my departure to Uganda, seeing these school latrines in person was eye-opening, and also nose clenching. All three school latrines had various deficiencies, including the one build just last year. Guttering not connected to anything, latrine pits on the verge of overflowing, tin roofs perforated by rust. Of the three handwashing stations, none had soap, one didn’t even have water, and the two that did have water were infested by mosquito larvae, water beetles and live frogs.

    This is why the monitoring initiative of the GDPU was so important; they can inform the headmaster of the schools, and guide them to improvements that can be made, and hold them accountable to their inaction. This is why GDPU’s monitoring matters. It gives the headmasters concrete feedback and a chance to act. But it also helps the AP decide where further investment is worthwhile. If communities won’t maintain what’s already been donated, should they receive more?

     

    

    The aforementioned missing guttering

     

    Perhaps the most surprising moment came from speaking with the school representatives. Although the term had just started and enrollment was around 600 students, barely half were attending. It wasn’t about fees or farming season. The issue, they said, was mindset: many parents simply believe there’s no point in sending children early in the term because of upcoming holidays or teachers not being “serious” yet. The faculty, community, and parents have allowed the latrines to fall into disrepair not replacing soap or maintained clean water. Is it the motivation or capacity that is lacking? Another interesting cultural lesson.

     

    

    Emma from GDPU and Aaron visit the Panykworo school during monitoring

     

    These visits were equal parts frustrating and illuminating. The logistical delays, deteriorating infrastructure, and inconsistent school attendance could easily feel overwhelming. But they also underscored the value of consistent monitoring and local engagement.

    What stung most was seeing the system I’d worked on fail its first real test—without a stable connection in the field, the Google Forms wouldn’t load or submit, the tracker didn’t update, and the data was lost.

    On the next visit, we’d go old school: pen, paper, and manual entry. It wasn’t what I’d hoped for, but it worked. The tools we’re building are still small steps toward greater accountability, and, hopefully, better outcomes for the students these facilities are meant to serve. For me, it’s a reminder that real impact isn’t always clean or immediate—it’s slow, incremental, and often begins with simply showing up, asking questions, and listening.

95. Cross Cultural Learning

    June 8, 2025 3:46 am 4 Comments

    Stranger in Acholiland

    Gulu is situated in the northern part of Uganda differentiated from the south by the abundance of an ethnic group and language use of the Acholi people (hence the moniker, Acholiland) and by the level of development and resources. Off the beaten path for traditional tourists to Uganda, my temporary adopted home has given me a few surprises, and quite a lot of curious stares.

    A few small quirks I noticed were that many vehicles have square shaped license plates, and the random vehicles that drive around town spewing cacophony from a loud speaker. Or the abundance of ‘pork joints’, where you can watch slabs of pork being butchered, skewered, and roasted on the spot. It’s pretty tasty, but best not to think too hard about the hygiene.

    But one of the major cultural differences I noticed in my day to day was the handshake. When greeting people I simply gave them a quick, firm, single shake, but always noted a look of bewilderment on the recipient’s face. I was eventually instructed that here the handshake is actually a three-count maneuver; a firm traditional hand grasp, then loosening to pivot up against the thumb and re-grasp in an arm-wrestling pose, before returning to a traditional handshake pose. Depicted below.

     

     

    

     

    

     

    

    Secondly, the contents of breakfast. Breakfast fare in Gulu is much more hearty than we in America would typically eat. My hotel breakfasts rotated through a few local selections.

    Sometimes there is beef pilau (which I suspect is related to plov/pilaf); chunks of beef inside a mound of basmati rice seasoned with African herbs that my unrefined palate cannot identify.

    Another is called “katogo”, which is a dish made of green bananas (motoke) that are baked(?, fried?) to have the consistency of potatoes, but obviously with a hint of sweetness. Served in some kind of broth or gravy, it’s actually quite filling.

    Another example is beef on the bone, served in a type of sauce, eaten with chapati.

    And lastly, a corn-meal mash served with baked beans. Which is interesting because the closest thing to what would be considered American is a rolex, which is essentially an omelet rolled up. However rolexes are considered street food for lunch.

     

    

     

    

     

    

     

    Lastly, and as cliche as it sounds, the Ugandan people are incredibly friendly and helpful. So much so that  I’ve begun walking around without wearing my headphones because of the amount of people that greet me and ask how I’m doing. If I ask if a store or stand has something and they do not, they tell me where I can find it. Some volunteer to show me where it is, or to buy it for me, so that I don’t get ripped off.

    Normally as a tourist if someone approaches me, instinct and experience has made skeptical of their intent. But here in Gulu, they seem to legitimately be curious why I’m here, how do I find Gulu, or if I’ve tried the local food.

     

     

96. Threading a New Chapter in the Pearl of Africa

    May 31, 2025 11:42 am 7 Comments

    As the heat and humidity filled the airplane cabin after depressurizing, I exited the cabin and set foot once again in Africa.

    This journey, which seems to get longer and more cramped each time, would actually be my fourth time on the continent. The first time, I came bearing arms—as a soldier in the US Army stationed in Djibouti. The second, I came bearing cameras, as a tourist accompanying my father on safari to the Serengeti. The third time, I came with beach gear, interning in Mozambique during my undergraduate studies, helping a PhD student collect data on oceanic mega fauna.

    This time, I came bearing thread.

    

    Busy suitcase!

    In order to help with one of two projects I was tasked with this summer, I loaded my suitcase past the airline approved limit of 50lbs. This jeopardized my immaculately packed luggage and gave the airline reason to demand a little more of my money. Luckily, a bit of old-fashioned Texas charm worked its magic, and the attendant waived the fee.

    The reason for this dramatic episode was to bring to a group of Ugandan women thread and sewing supplies, graciously donated, that would be either expensive and/or hard to acquire for them. Every penny, or Ugandan shilling as it were, would need to be saved to give their fledgling business a chance. 

    The second of the aforementioned projects I would be working on this summer would be with the GDPU (Gulu Disabled Persons Union), specifically with a WASH (Water, Sanitation and Hygiene) project for schools in the region. Although I had arrived in Uganda my journey to Gulu was not yet over;

    My initial plan was to tough-out the journey; head straight from the 24 hour (flights plus layover) trek to the bus station, for the 6-9 hour bus ride to Gulu. However, and perhaps fortuitously, the buses only run twice a day, and I would have to stay overnight regardless of my will to continue. This allowed me to be able to see Lake Victoria, to which 5 years ago I had been on the Tanzanian side, and experience the madness that is Kampala. The bus ride was long, and uncomfortable, as the seating arrangements just weren’t built for someone of my size. But compared to Kampala, Gulu was figuratively and literally a breath of fresh air. 

    I was met at the bus station by Okwir Joe, an employee at GDPU and a partner on the WASH project, he helped me secure a boda boda (dirt bike taxi) and we whisked away toward my lodging. 

     

    

    First Boda Boda ride

     

    It’s a decent place, walking distance to the GDPU, and equipped with a café and rooftop bar. It’s also close to a Rolex stand, which is a Ugandan street food consisting of an omelet rolled between two chapatis, which has been a staple of my lunches. And directly across the street from a convenience store that has a refrigeration unit where I purchase cold water and energy drinks — a terrible Army-acquired vice. 

    As my first week in Gulu draws to a close, I have begun to establish a routine, and have initiated the projects I wish to accomplish this summer in earnest. The GDPU, which has been recently rebranded as the GDPO (Gulu Disabled People’s Organization), is an umbrella organization, and a literal hive of activity to which I had not previously recognized.

    The team I am working with this summer on the WASH project are Emma, and the previously mentioned Joe. Emma is an extremely tough woman, who is able to cut through excuses and malingering to effectively deliver the results and help the children in the rural communities. She is also very knowledgeable about all the actors and comings and goings of what happens at the GDPO, and is the lynchpin in the organization. Joe is a super passionate, and very sharp grad student, who has already taught me quite a bit about the project, and this, my temporary home in Gulu.  

     

    

    The Team – myself, Emma, and Joe

     

    Although the WASH program is my prerogative, working with Emma and Joe, the GDPU has a myriad of altruistic activities. The different teams around the property directly impact the lives of over 1500 individuals in Gulu and the surrounding areas.  One such project is V+, which is a vocational training program that focuses on 6 areas of employment for the differently abled; knitting, tailoring, mechanics, welding, electronic repair, and design.

    Another, Viva la Visa, helps those with disabilities explore their creative outlet, offering coaching, practice and a recording studio for singing, keyboards and guitars. In order to help with exercise and inclusivity, Faruk, another member of GDPU, helps develop games and sports that all children can play together in the large yard. The basketball court, that used to be the venue for weekly intramural wheelchair basketball is now out of service, pending repairs to the concrete. 

    The grounds also house the GWDU (Gulu Women’s with Disabilities Union) which offers advocacy services for women that have been the victims of abuse along with a clinic for their reproductive health. The grounds also has a school for children with visual and hearing impairments. What was even more striking is the welding training area, where they repair and construct wheelchairs for those in need, from donated materials.

    The inspiring work done here is done without the support from the local government, and only through donors. Which makes the deliberate scarcity of foreign aid all the more frustrating. 

    Stitching Past Wounds

     

    For a brief period of time in 2012, Joseph Kony and the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) was famous. A global campaign calling for an end to his brutal campaign and for him to be brought to justice was launched, promulgated social media, and then precipitously faded from collective consciousness. Kony’s global infamy was quickly eclipsed by the scandal surrounding Invisible Children Inc., the NGO behind the campaign—accusations of financial mismanagement, factual misrepresentation, and a now-infamous public meltdown by its co-founder. The outrage faded; the victims remained. 

    The victims of the LRA however did not forget. A group of women survivors in the Gulu area has been collaborating with the Advocacy Project (AP), learning embroidery and tailoring in order to tell their stories and rebuild their livelihoods. These ladies are the recipients of the aforementioned thread I packed, and the other project I am undertaking this summer; to assist them with starting their own business. 

    Getting a hold of these ladies has been a real struggle. Their de-facto leader died a few months ago, and their liaison at  Women in Action for Women (WAW) -Victoria- is extremely busy and hard to pin down. But I was able to meet with her and the other ladies. This would also serve as an introduction to Mama Cave, an impressive woman in her own right, would be able to offer the ladies advanced instruction on tailoring and embroidery. A prerequisite for opening a sew shop, or similar business.

    

    First meeting with members of Women in Action for Women (WAW)

    We met at a neutral, open-spaced venue under a large mango tree. To break the ice, we introduced ourselves around the table, while being given bottles of mountain dew, of all drinks.

    With the help of Joe translating, I was able to witness the discussion around the table as Victoria moderated. The women let Mama Cave explain her program, they then in turn displayed their interest and commitment to learning. They then discussed their schedules and which days and at what time works best for them. Lastly any residual questions or qualms were heard and elaborated on.

    This was done remarkably quickly and with civility, and everyone seemed pleased and eager to start. You may have been born poor, but it is a crime to die poor,’ Victoria quipped, and the ladies chuckled in agreement, and myself belatedly as soon as Joe translated for me.

    The training would take 3-6 months, depending on skill level and hour of practice. Victoria and I made arrangements for more regular communication, so I could with the next phase the ladies decided on. We then finished with me distributing the previously mentioned thread and sewing paraphernalia, but also tea towels that the AP made with their butterfly patterns they had made.

    I thanked them once again for meeting with me and that I looked forward to helping them this summer. I arrived apprehensive and left thoroughly impressed. Thread may mend fabric, but it’s people who stitch together a future.

    

    My meeting with the members of Women in Action for Women in Gulu

     

97. A Caste Survivor Galvanizes the Campaign to End Child Marriage in Nepal

    January 7, 2025 4:22 pm Leave a Comment

     

    

    Sunita Chidimar survived forced marriage at the age of five to become an advocate for heath education among families from the Chidimar sub-caste in the town of Nepalgunj

     

    In a powerful display of personal advocacy, a member of a despised sub-caste who was married off by her parents at the age of 5 has helped to secure a pledge by the government of Nepal to end child marriage.

    Sunita Chidimar made a passionate appeal to Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli on December 31 at a ceremony at Mr Oli’s home in support of an NGO campaign against child marriage. The NGOs include Backward Society Education (BASE), a longtime partner of The Advocacy Project (AP).

    Mr Oli used the event to sign a government pledge to eliminate child marriage by 2030. Marriage under 18 has long been illegal in Nepal, but the practice is still widespread and according to some reports 6% of all girls in Nepal marry before the age of 15.

    Onlookers said that Ms Chidimar broke down as she described her own experience in harrowing detail. She was betrothed at the age of 5 and given to her husband at the age of 14. There then followed an agonizing pregnancy.

    Ms Chidimar’s appeal to the Prime Minister was widely covered in the Nepali media but there was no mention of the fact that she belongs to a former sub-caste that still encourages child marriage and is socially shunned, making it exceptionally difficult to end the practice.

    The Chidimar are one of 26 groups that are categorized as Dalit, the lowest of the four former castes in Nepal. Caste discrimination is illegal in Nepal and the caste system is considered to have formally ended in 2008 when Nepal broke with Hinduism and became a secular state.

    But some Dalit sub-castes, like the Chidimar, remain linked with unsavory occupations that they practiced under the caste system. These are now viewed with distaste by most Nepalis.

    Chidimar have traditionally caught exotic birds, and their name means “bird killers” in Hindi. While very few Chidimar still catch birds, the lingering association has deepened their isolation and poverty, making it harder for them to marry into families outside their caste.

    Ms Chidimar lives in the town of Nepalgunj, which is home to around 600 Chidimar. She said that only 3 families still catch birds owing to deforestation and shrinking demand, and that each bird sells for around 250 rupees ($3).

    But other harmful traditions persist, and child marriage is still fiercely defended by older Chidimar, some of whom still speak their traditional Bhojpuri language. Equally dangerous, many Chidimar parents do not understand or believe in vaccinations.

    Ms Chidimar was invited to attend the signing ceremony by Pinky Dangi, a staff member at BASE, after the two met during a recent investigation by BASE and AP in Central Nepal. Ms Dangi directs BASE’s work on child marriage.

    The BASE-AP mission met several families from Dalit sub-castes, including the Chidimar, that regret their association with traditional practices but are unsure how to make a clean break. One reason is that Dalit families with 5 members or more receive 3,500 rupees a month and health insurance from the government. This acts as a disincentive to changing their last name.

    Ms Chidimar told the mission that she and her son, aged 17, are indifferent to the opinion of others and happy to be known as Chidimar. “It is more important to educate Chidimar families and explain the health risks to their children,” she said through an interpreter.

    Ms Chidimar herself leads by example. She is the first-ever member of her sub-caste to be chosen as a community health volunteer, a government post that allows her to offer health education to other Chidimar families in Nepalgunj. Eighteen years after her education was cut short by marriage she recently resumed classes and is now studying in Grade 12 – one grade above her son.

    Ms Chidimar’s experience and strength of character impressed Ms Dangi from BASE and secured her invitation to meet Prime Minister Oli. But even Ms Dangi was unprepared for the impact of Ms Chidimar’s appeal and the subsequent media coverage, which she described as “unexpected and exciting” in a recent call from Kathmandu.

    The ceremony at the Prime Minister’s home was also attended by Dilli Chaudhary, whose parents were born into bonded labor and who created BASE in 1985 to end the practice, known in Nepal as kamaiya. The BASE campaign led to the abolition of kamaiya in 2000 and is widely considered to be one of the most successful examples of NGO advocacy in modern Nepalese history.

    Mr Chaudhary rose to become Nepal’s Minister of Labor and Chief Minister of Lumbini Province in Central Nepal. He remains committed to empowering ethnic and caste minorities in Nepal and has asked AP to assist a new BASE project on social marginalization.

    Ms Dangi said that her meeting with Ms Chidimar in Nepalgunj had reminded her of the power of advocates like Mr Chaudhary and Ms Chidimar who emerge from a marginalized group and are forever shaped by their experience.

    “This is why they produce change,” she said.

    Sunita Chidimar gave permission for her name and photo to be used in this article

    

    Prime Minister Oli meets with advocates after signing a government pledge to end child marriage by 2023. Dilli Chaudhary, the founder of BASE, is fifth from the right. Sunita Chidimar is second from the right.

     

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98. It’s a Wrap!

    December 10, 2024 11:17 am Leave a Comment

     

    

    The Tharu Museum in Tulsipor

     

    Before leaving, Pinky and I visit the Tharu Museum in Tulsipor. The museum is the brainchild of Dilli Chaudhary, the founder of BASE, who promoted Tharu identity while he was chief minister of Lumbini province. This museum reflects his passion and commitment to his people. It attracts a lot of visitors.

    The museum brings our inquiry to a fitting conclusion because it shows how advocacy can produce social change. I noted in my first blog that the Tharu were subjected to decades of exploitation by a rich class of “landlords” and that this system produced bonded labor, child labor, and domestic slavery. Even though the Tharu are a minority, not a caste, many of its victims were led to believe by their exposure to caste that their suffering was outside of their control. I heard this from several myself.

    Much of Dilli’s life has been devoted to debunking this myth. Born into a family of bonded laborers, he established BASE to outlaw the practice. After this was achieved, BASE turned to building sustainable livelihoods for the former laborers using land and education. The third phase of the campaign is still under way – to restore dignity to the Tharu people, long described as Nepal’s most marginalized minority. This museum is part of it.

    All of this has meshed with Nepal’s emergence as a diverse and tolerant society following the end of the Maoist rebellion in 2006. Hinduism is no longer the official state religion. The monarchy is long gone. The Maoist rebels are part of the democratic system. The 2015 constitution banned discrimination, devolved power away from the capital to provinces, and gave Dalit a guaranteed role in national politics. This gentle revolution has produced role models like Pabitra Badi, who we met in an earlier blog, and given Nepal a reputation for tolerance in Asia.

    And yet….…there is something about the immobility of these Tharu figures in this museum that warns against complacency. Social change is a constant process and there is always another threat around the corner.

    Challenge

    We set out five weeks ago to explore the legacy of caste, which I described as a slippery concept in an earlier blog. I think that was an apt description, and my own views have certainly shifted. The past few weeks suggest that the problem is less about caste per se and more about how people identify and relate to each other – which pretty much applies to any society.

    Here in central Nepal we have found that the sense of common identity within these sub-castes is strong. For those who feel threatened and stigmatized, membership of the group offers protection from an unfriendly world. We heard this most urgently from Badi women in the town of Ghorahi, whose sense of exclusion and isolation would resonate with many minorities elsewhere.

    But for those who yearn for change, the sub-castes are rigid and inflexible.

    Part of this is imposed by the state. Dalit carry the name of their sub-caste and are registered by caste in the census. The state also provides all Dalit families with social support which acts as a major disincentive to change. Several people said that changing an ID is a major hassle and requires time and travel that they cannot afford. All of this acts as a barrier to social mobility.

    But if these pressures are imposed, others come from within. Marriage tops the list. Inter-marriage between Dalit sub-castes and between Dalit and the four main castes appears to be very rare. We met only three individuals who had the courage to find partners outside their sub-castes – Dropati Badi, Pabitra Badi and Hari Ram Rai Das.

    Occupations

    Caste put a value on the traditional occupations practiced by these sub-castes based on their “untouchability.” The very idea of passing a value judgement on occupations is offensive, yet we have encountered some occupations on this mission that are simply indefensible. I would have no hesitation is calling for an end to bird-killing by the Chidimar, as well as the traditional Chidimar practice of child marriage.

    On the other hand we have also found some traditional occupations that seem benign and contemporary, like the biodegradable duna plates made from leaves by the Kewat sub-caste. It is also hard to find fault with traditional skills that are handed down through generations such as the making of Badi madal drums, Gandarbha music and even stone-carving by the Kusbadiya.

    Ultimately the market place will render the final verdict on all of these occupations. The Kusbadiya grinding stones are being priced out by cheaper alternatives. The Khatik, in contrast, are fetching a good price for their pigs. More power to them.

    The biggest problem with these “traditional” occupations is lack of choice. Caste perpetuated the notion that people are “born” into their occupation and should not expect to change. I examined this in earlier blogs about Badi prostitution that described how Badi girls were coerced into prostitution by a social norm, with the full complicity of their families. That branded the entire sub-caste.

    But if such social norms are coercive, the same can be said of poverty. Poverty need not be systemic and “structural” to deprive people of choice and discourage them from seeking alternatives, as we saw with the Kusbadiya stone-carvers.

    Impact

    One product of caste is discrimination, which is a crime in Nepal.

    As with hate speech in the US this can lead to acts of extreme violence, as when 24 men in Rukum District killed six Dalit youths in December 2023. (The killers were sentenced to life imprisonment for murder).

    We did not investigate acts of discrimination, which is best handled by human rights advocates, but we were looking for examples of stigma which may not be punishable by law but can be deeply dis-empowering. Once again, the Badi are a good example. Prostitution by the Badi caste may have ended almost twenty years ago, but the association still clings to Badi and leaves them feeling stigmatized. This affects their confidence and can be enough to obstruct social mobility and change.

    Education

    How can well-wishers like BASE respond to the challenge? With its deep roots in the Tharu community BASE has developed several services through the years that seem particularly relevant. These begin with education, which is probably the most effective catalyst for social change as well as the intervention most likely to be accepted.

    It is surely no coincidence that the most effective community leaders we have met are personally committed to education: Nirmal Badi, the first-ever Badi teacher appointed to a government school who put his four children through college. Hari Ram Rai Das, whose two daughters both run businesses. Sunita Chidimar, who re-enrolled in secondary school at the age of 34. I would also include the family of Chongiya beggars who are determined to pay for the education of Siwani, 10.

    We have also concluded, however, that education initiatives must be creative and tailored to specific needs if they are to be effective. The Badi settlement in Ghorahi is a good example. Half of the children in the settlement are not in school, but they do have access to a well-furbished building that mothers would like to turn into an after-school center. This, they feel, would create demand for formal education, build discipline, attract staff from the settlement and appeal to the municipal government. It could also be a first step towards putting more children in school. This seems like a worthwhile investment, although it would probably not work elsewhere.

    Income

    BASE has been targeting poverty in marginalized communities for years and built up considerable expertise in such areas as skills training and savings schemes. Pinky and her colleagues are excellent trainers. But as I noted in earlier blogs some of these traditional interventions have not worked particularly well with the sub-castes we have met.

    It was not my job to evaluate these projects, but my advice would be to focus more on demand. For example, Gandarbha violins have not sold well because the market is limited. But the demand for Gandarbha music could be huge and YouTube opens up a world of new possibilities. BASE already has good contacts in this mysterious world!

    Perhaps the demand for Badi madal drums would also expand if drum-makers are making drums as ornaments instead of exclusively for festivals. Demand for the disposable and environmentally-friendly duma leaf plates would also expand if the Kewat could sell in Kathmandu where demand is sky-high. Even the delicately-carved Kusbadiya stones might find a market if they were promoted as ornaments rather than cooking aides.

    All of this seems worth exploring, but it will require new thinking and new skills from NGOs: more marketing and social media, and less conventional trainings.

    One final point needs to be made about income-generation. Land appears to be the best of all investments. We were told repeatedly that the Badi have been impoverished by their lack of land, yet many are already living on government land. Land reform was also a key part of BASE’s bonded labor campaign. And according to Nirmal Badi, land would do more than anything else to reverse the fortunes of the former Badi prostitutes in Tulsipor.

    Culture

    Culture is linked to income because several sub-castes we met are being encouraged to fill a niche market created by ceremonies, weddings and festivals. As an added incentive, it is also assumed that to rescue a sub-caste from poverty may also rescue an endangered culture along with it. We heard this about the Gandarbha saranji, Badi madal drums, Kewat duma plates and even the Chamari drums made by the Chamar/Ram sub-castes.

    Nepalis love their festivals, but this automatic connection between caste and culture could present another obstacle to social change and mobility. This may be what worried young members of the Chamar/Ram sub-caste when they demanded an end to chamari drumming at festivals, implying that any automatic connection with tradition is demeaning. The protest by Dalit activists against the mass slaughter of animals at the Dashain festival is another interesting example of a sub-caste rejecting a tradition.

    This raises interesting questions: Is a culture (and its traditions) by definition worth preserving, or is this simply sentiment? Should its fate be decided by those directly affected – the immediate stakeholders – or by society as a whole?

    And is there a role for outsiders? I would hope so, as long as we take our cue from the stakeholders. Foreign friends can do much to encourage creativity and cultural expression like the Tharu museum here in Tulsipor. The Mountain Music Project was conceived in the US but uncovered a common chord in the music of the Gandarbha in Nepal and fiddlers from Appalachia. The result was an example of cultural survival at its most creative and least intrusive.

    Advocacy

    The final and most important service offered by BASE is advocacy, and this seems particularly relevant to our inquiry.

    The Advocacy Project has met with several inspiring advocates from Nepal through the years: Dilli Chaudhary (bonded labor); Ram Bhandari (disappearances); Uma Badi (Badi women and children); Urmila Chaudhary (domestic slavery); Radha Paudel (menstruation); and Nirmal Badi.

    These talented leaders have had two things in common. First, they were motivated by their own experience. Second, they have embraced publicity and the risks that come with it. This is advocacy in its purest form and it seems to thrive in Nepal.

    But this trip has also introduced us to strong-willed individuals who do not need a national platform to produce social change: Jamuna Badi, who mobilized other Badi girls to ask for police protection; Dropati Badi, who led a delegation of Badi girls in Ghorahi to demand that the link to prostitution be removed from Badi ID cards; Sunita Chidimar, who advocates against child marriage with Chidimar families; and Hari Ram Rai Das, who supports efforts by younger members of his caste to show less deference to traditions.

    Such people are to be found in all sub-castes and/or minorities even if they are hiding in plain sight like Sunita Chidimar in Nepalgunj. If BASE wants to promote social change within these sub-castes, it could begin by seeking out such community leaders and ask for their guidance.

    Research

    My final recommendation to BASE is to expand research.

    Our visit has produced a series of snapshots, and these blogs will probably cause experts to shudder. But what we found is indeed fascinating and we only scratched the surface. We met with eight sub-castes, but the 2021 housing census lists 142 castes and/or ethnic groups. Some, like the Kusunda or the forest-dwelling Raute number less than 1,000 and are struggling to adapt while clinging to their traditional way of life.

    The key here is not to impose a vision of change but to help these groups broaden their options and enjoy more choice. In writing this final blog I now realize that this has been our mission all along.

    As well as casting the net wider, any new research should also use more professional tools, starting with a detailed questionnaire. If and when a new project emerges, The Advocacy Project stands ready to help.

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99. The Badi Advocate

    December 7, 2024 12:19 pm Leave a Comment

     

    

    Nirmal Badi, a lifelong advocate for the Badi, with Pinky Dangi from BASE

     

    This blog covers two recent meetings with Nirmal Badi, a prominent Badi activist in Tulsipor. While the main focus was on the Badi, our discussion also ranged over many of the questions we have covered in meeting other sub-castes – coercion, identity, discrimination, poverty, and social change.

    Nirmal’s personal story mirrors that of Dilli Chaudhary. Dilli’s parents were born into bonded labor. Nirmal’s family was born into prostitution. The experience turned both men into outspoken advocates. Both started their own organizations and both view education as a powerful catalyst for social change. Nirmal was the first-ever Badi to teach at a government school. His four children all graduated from college and have excellent jobs in Dubai, Nepal and the UK.

    The biggest difference between the two is that Dilli’s target – bonded labor – is now a thing of the past. As Nirmal explains, the Badi still struggle against stigma and poverty.

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    Nirmal Badi’s views about his sub-caste are shaped by the fact that his two older sisters practiced prostitution. He remembers staying with his grandmother while his sisters went off in search of clients, sometimes for months at a time. They would also visit the forest to meet men and Nirmal recalls waiting for them on river banks, around the age of 8.

    Nirmal describes Tulsipor as one of the prostitution centers of Nepal and like the Badi women we met in the town of Ghorahi he makes it sound lawless and terrifying. His own sisters were repeatedly burned with cigarettes. The police rarely intervened but when they did it was to arrest the prostitutes.

    Nirmal also has a lot to say about coercion, which I touched on in an earlier blog. His sisters practiced prostitution as adults but it was the way they started as girls that mattered – plus the fact that they knew no other way of life. This was the coercive power of the social norm. Even when they reached the age of consent they were driven by the need for money. Nirmal’s sisters earned around 12,000 rupees a year ($85 at current rates) which supported the family and paid for his own school fees through grade 6.

    And yet – some families resisted the norm and refused to allow their daughters to prostitute themselves. Nirmal also concedes that prostitution gave Badi women agency within their families and marriages. Still, he insists, the system put so much pressure on women to conform that only those with resources were in a position to resist the social norm. Almost none of the prostitution families owned land. He compares it to colonialism.

    *

    As he grew older Nirmal became increasingly incensed at the exploitation of women and eventually demanded that his sisters stop prostitution, which they did. One even married into a Brahmin family.

    Nirmal’s public advocacy began in 1992 when he protested a police raid in Tulsipor that led to the arrest of over 30 Badi prostitutes. Two years later he founded the Dalit Rights and Communications Campaign, which has received funding from a number of donors.

    Nirmal’s early goal was to secure citizenship for the children of prostitution, and he vocally supported the 2007 campaign by Badi mothers that led to passage of the new law. Nirmal was also active in a decade of Dalit activism that followed. In 2017 the Supreme Court approved a package of support for the Badi but Badi advocates split over the follow-up and Nirmal found himself on the opposite side from Uma Badi, hero of the 2007 protest. Impatient for progress, he met with politicians and pressed the government to set up a committee to study the issue. The committee issued a report in 2021 just as the pandemic struck and the report was buried.

    Nirmal wants the report dusted off and acted on. He is reminded of the need by the plight of around 25 ageing former prostitutes who live on the margins in Tulsipor, selling fruit in markets or begging. Most never married and have been abandoned by their families and children. Some changed their names and then regretted the decision, presumably because it robbed them of the group protection.

    This lingering tragedy gives urgency to Nirmal’s advocacy. He continues to lobby for the rehabilitation of the former prostitutes, vocational training for the children, income-generation and – most important – land. A 2008 task force found that two thirds of all Badi were living on public or government land. “So why not give them the land?” he asks.

    Land is also one reason why many Badi men have migrated in search of work, leaving their families to face stigma and exclusion in Badi settlements like Ghorahi as described in this earlier blog.

    *

    Before we part company I ask Nirmal whether he is proud to be Badi.

    “Of course!” he says. I press him further and he talks of the Badi women who sang and danced at the Royal Court, of the madal drums, and of the fishing. “My identity is linked to this culture,” he says. Nirmal also maintains that the stigma has ended. “People have stopped thinking I earn a living from prostituting my daughter. They no longer think that way!”

    Perhaps, but a culture that trapped women in prostitution is not very appealing. Nirmal’s views are also probably colored by the fact that he is a man who fought the good fight and won. Badi, to him, is a label to be worn with pride because it denotes success and achievement. Also, he does not have to exorcise the kind of personal demons that still haunt some of the Badi women we have met on this trip.

    Of course, this does not make Nirmal’s advocacy any less impressive, and he would be a powerful ally in any new project by BASE.

    *

    Footnote: It transpires that Nirmal kept a journal and has a treasure trove of information about the Badi.  When Pinky hears this she remembers that her own grandfather – a teacher – also kept extensive records about the Badi a quarter century ago. Both original sources are waiting to be tapped by a keen researcher.

    Next – It’s a wrap!

100. Badi Pride

     December 3, 2024 12:14 pm Leave a Comment

     

     Pabitra Badi makes and plays madal drums, and is a hero to the LGBTQ+ community in Nepal. Scroll down to appreciate her drumming skills! 

      

     It’s time for a brief review.

     With each meeting our understanding of the legacy of caste becomes clearer. Yet something is missing. I think it comes down to pride –  the sort of pride shown by Dilli Chaudhary when he talks of how the Tharu overcame decades of exploitation. Pride that shouts from the rooftops and brims with optimism for the future.

     This may be about to change.

     *

     We visit Pabitra Badi, 51, at her workshop in Tulsipor and are met with a tranquil scene. Pabitra squats on the floor mending a madal traditional drum, while neighbors wander by and stop to listen to her latest exchange with a visitor. They are curious and also respectful, because Pabitra is something of a celebrity in Tulsipor.

     Some of it has to do with her skills as a drum-maker. She repairs half a dozen drums during our meeting and is so good at her trade that she has led several trainings and also launched a BASE savings group for other Badi women.

     But the main reason for Pabitra’s fame is that she is in a same-sex union that goes against the grain in a largely conservative part of the world and a society that is still constrained by caste and tradition. What is more, Pabitra and her partner, Bimala BK, are from different sub-castes. Bimala is from the elite Biswokarma, while Pabitra is a Badi. This is the next best thing to an inter-caste marriage.

     Pabitra tells her story gradually but without any hesitation. She is small in stature and has a dazzling smile. She fell for Bimala at the age of nine when the two girls were herding animals together. “I was mad for love!” she says with a grin and a giggle.

     Pabitra and Bimala have been partners for 28 years and the journey has been as difficult for them as it has been for so many other same-sex couples. Pabitra’s parents were so opposed to their friendship that they forced Pabitra to sign a declaration pledging not to see Bimala. At one point they even sent the police after their daughter. The gossip and finger-pointing were merciless.

     Eventually the two women fled for the anonymity of Kathmandu, where they found kindred spirits and joined an LGBTQ+ support group with about 300 active members. They decided to return to Tulsipor about seven years ago, drawn by Pabitra’s love of the madal drums for which her village was famous.

     It cannot have been easy, but Pabitra is now so well known that the gossiping has stopped and when she hears from neighbors it is with admiration. She has become an advocate for gay rights and is disturbed when she learns of acts of prejudice. In one recent incident, two girls aged 8 and 9 were shown on social media being beaten by their parents.

     Pabitra’s personal journey has also shown the way to other Nepalis. The struggle for gender rights started in 2007 when the Supreme Court of Nepal – easily the most progressive force for change in the country – recognized LGBTQ+ rights and ordered the government to prepare a law legalizing same-sex marriage. The government balked at drafting a new law, but the issue refused to go away and the rights of sexual and gender minorities were enshrined in the new constitution in 2015.

     That same year the Court again ordered the national government to legalize same-sex marriage. But the government continued to drag its feet and the Court continued to make the running. On June 27, 2023 the Court permitted same-sex couples to register. Later in the year, on November 30, the municipality of Dordi in the district of Lamjung legally recognized the marriage of Maya Gurung and Surendra Pandey, a same sex couple.

     LGBTQ+ advocates in Nepal point out that there is still a long way to go and that same-sex couples still cannot own land, make joint wills and adopt children together. That will require a new law. But the social norm has been shattered, and Nepal is generally viewed as only the second country in Asia to recognize same-sex marriage after Taiwan (2019). Thailand passed a same-sex law on June 18 2024.

     Pabitra is delighted to have helped to pave the way.

     *

     Like other Badi women we have met, the years of prostitution are seared in Pabitra’s memory. She even remembers being arrested on one occasion, when a brawl got out of hand. But Pabitra avoided the worst and fled to Kathmandu at an age when her closest school friends were being drawn into prostitution.

     For some it started as young as 13 and Pabitra says that they were pressured by their mothers and grandparents, who kept the money. Some of her friends gave birth to children, who remained stateless until the law changed in 2007. Some were disowned by their families and children even though they gave up prostitution. Some fell ill. Two died from HIV-AIDS.

     It’s a desperately sad story. The friends who survive have remained close and when they meet up during festivals, Pabitra says there are plenty of tears. She does what she can to console them and tells us that life is too short for regrets.

     *

     Pabitra’s drum-making also fills out our information about Badi income-generation.

     Babitra has been making drums for about 15 years and sold enough to have invested around 100,000 rupees in the business. The wood comes from the Pokhara region and costs about 500 rupees per drum but the drums themselves sell for up to 10,000 rupees, so this is a good business. She sold around 50 drums during the recent Dashain and Tihar festivals, and is gearing up for the next festival, the Marg.

     As well as making drums Pabitra also plays and sings and gives us a short impromptu concert. Her neighbors join in and their clapping reverberates down the street.

     Impressed by Pabitra’s skills and influence, BASE invited her to train other Badi women to make drums, with funding from the local provincial government. Fifteen women took part but only about five are still making drums because the raw materials are hard to find. They are also living on unregistered land, which makes them less inclined to take risks with their money. Pabitra also launched a savings scheme for BASE but says it fell apart after one of the members disappeared with most of the money.

     But Pabitra’s own business model is a big success and this raises a question about whether there might be wider market for Badi drums. Demand for Pabitra’s drums is highest during festivals. Nepalis love their festivals but I wonder if this is too limiting. For example, before we set out, Dilli Chaudhary told us that the madal is such an integral part of life in Nepal that every family probably owns at least one. This suggests that there may be a larger market out there for madal drums.

     We had a similar reaction after seeing the Kewat making duma plates out of leaves in Nepalgunj. Like Pabitra’s drums, the duma leaves are much in demand during festivals but may have a wider year-round appeal, like disposable plates here in the US. If this is right BASE might want to focus on marketing rather than producing. I also think of Pabitra’s sister, who drives a tut tuk taxi. How about tuk tuk training for Badi women?

     *

     Before leaving, I ask Pabitra if she is proud of being a Badi. She does not answer directly but she does admit to having had doubts. At one point she even tried to change her name from Badi, but all that is now in the past: “I am earning. I have my partner. Our children are young and studying. We are not backward because we are Badi!”

     This sounds like a lukewarm endorsement and suggests that Pabitra’s is less committed to her caste than her gender. When it comes to gender, Pabitra is definitely out and proud. But to the extent that she is an advocate for the Badi it is through her personal example, talent and charm rather than outspokenness.

     As a successful businesswoman, Pabitra also has the luxury of choice. This contrasts with other Badi families we have met that are under relentless pressure from poverty and social exclusion. This might make them more hungry for change, but it also gives them far fewer options to act.

      

     Next: The Badi Advocate

101. The Ram Leather Artists

     December 1, 2024 12:14 pm Leave a Comment

     

     Hari Ram Rai Das has given up making leather except for the gurbaba dolls

      

     At Pinky’s suggestion we visit Hari Ram Rai Das in his village an hour from Tulsipor by tuk tuk. The journey is uncomfortable but takes us through bucolic countryside and wonderful scenes of harvesting.

     The Ram sub-caste is closely related to the Chamar. Both are known for collecting dead animals and turning the skin into leather products. It is also said that Chamar used to eat the flesh of the carcasses.

     Hari Ram Rai Das is happy to talk about it all. Dignified and thoughtful he has every reason to be grateful to BASE. During the conflict he was beaten by Maoist rebels and suffered from a broken leg. BASE gave him 10,000 rupees to open a small store in his village which brings in around 3,000 rupees a month.

     Hari has been making leather products since he was sixteen, but nowadays the only leather goods he makes are miniature dolls, known as gurbabas, which are worn around the neck during festivals and seen in then photo above. Hari made about 500 dolls for the 2024 Dashain festival, using only the skin of female calves. The leather cost a total of 3,000 rupees but Hari sold each doll for up to 500 rupees, which represented an excellent profit.

     In spite of this, Hari is phasing out of leather. His explanation is fascinating and reveals a sub-caste in change.

     As well as the leather, Hari is also known for his skill with a large drum, known as the chamari, that is played at festivals. Chamari drums are so spectacular that they can sell for over $1,000 on e-Bay. Hari used to earn enough money from drumming at the week-long Dashain festival to keep his family for the rest of the year. In fact, his playing was so good that Maoist rebels would visit his home during the war and demand that he play for them. He got tired of humoring them, and this may have led to the altercation and his broken leg. Whatever the reason, he was happy to give up the drum. The thrill has gone.

     It turns out he was ahead of his time. Younger Chamar and Ram have grown increasingly disenchanted at the traditions of their sub-caste and view any work with leather and even the playing of chamari drums as demeaning. They demanded an end to chamari drumming at the 2024 Dashain festival, much to the disappointment of many.

     This is not the only protest against Chamar tradition to have come from within the sub-caste. For some years Dalit activists have been demanding that the Chamar stop eating the flesh of animals that are slaughtered for the Dashain festival, sometimes described as the largest ritual sacrifice of animals in the world.

     The slaughter persists, but some commentators see the two protests as proof of growing confidence among younger Dalit, many of whom have had their eyes opened by working in India and the Gulf. They are proud of their Dalit heritage but prepared to go against practices that they view as demeaning. A good sign, I would say.

     Hari Ram Rai Das certainly approves, even though the ban on drumming has denied him an important source of income. He also appreciates the growing awareness and literacy among younger members of his sub-caste, because he himself is deeply committed to education. One son is in Saudi Arabia and his two daughters both completed 12^th grade at school. One daughter owns a shop and the other runs a beauty parlor in Ghorahi town. All three are married.

     Hari is unusual in one other important way: he is one of only two individuals that we have met so far to have married outside their caste. He says that his parents objected for a few days but then relented – unlike the in-laws of Dropati Badi in the town of Ghorahi, who still refuse to see her.

     A man of principle who is deeply committed to his community, Hari would be an excellent choice to lead any empowerment project by BASE.

      

     Next: Badi Pride

102. The Khatik Pig Farmers

     November 29, 2024 12:01 pm Leave a Comment

      

     

     Ram Kumar Khatik, family matriarch

      

     We had planned to visit the Pasi sub-caste, who are known for keeping pigs. Instead we make a detour and stop off to see a family of Khatik, a sub-caste that is closely linked to Pasi and also raises pigs.

     Legend has it (rather charmingly) that the first Pasi, named Pashuram, saw a group of men killing sacred cows and brought the cows back to life with his perspiration (pasina in Hindi).  According to the 2021 housing census there were 9,152 Khatik in Nepal. The number of Pasi said to be around 4,600.

     We meet Ram Kumar Khatik (photo), the matriarch of this family of 13. They live in a single house – seven daughters, one son, a daughter in law and 2 grandchildren. Ram’s husband is away at the market looking for pig food.

     Ram Kumar Khatik has a strong personality and knows her pigs. The family currently owns sixteen and sells each pig for 20,000 rupees when they mature. The biggest challenge is finding food for the pigs (which should get fed three times a day). Pig food can cost up to 45,000 rupees a year and Ram Kumar’s husband constantly scours restaurants in Nepalgunj for food scraps. One pig died recently from disease, but this was very much an exception.

     Like all of the families we visit, nothing comes easily for Ram Kumar Khatik and her family. They are living on top of each other and Ram Kumar says their lives would be much easier if they owned land. But they are certainly better off than most of the other groups we have met and relatively self-sufficient. They also have a real skill – rearing pigs – that is in demand and brings in good money. Ram Kumar’s son-in-law also earns money as a mason.

     With the exception of education, which we have not inquired about, I do not see any role here for BASE. But there is still much more to learn about this group.

      

     Next: The Ram Leather Artists

103. The Chongiya Beggars

     11:54 am Leave a Comment

     

     Siwani Chhongiya, 10, practices to become a police officer

      

     We make a roadside visit to a small settlement of Chongiya. This group is known for begging, although they do not appear in the list of 142 castes in the 2021 housing census, or among the 26 Dalit sub-castes. This probably means they identify with another group, but for now neither Pinky nor our guide Ram Lahu Chaudhary are aware of it. I can’t find anything about them online.

     The settlement comprises around 30 families and we meet with a family of ten around a large table. Within minutes we are told that older female Chongiya are known for their skill in sucking out the pus from wounds – which is about as unpleasant a way of making money as I can imagine. Some still do it occasionally in return for rice, although not very often. Just as well.

     Living next to the main road, this group is exposed to plenty of strangers and happy to chat. Several are carrying mobile phones. Bishnu, who takes charge of the conversation, has just returned from hospital and wears a thick bandage on his wrist.

     Bishnu spends about half of his time begging, which brings in about 300 rupees a day. He says that he is usually ignored or told to “get a job.” He also works as a day laborer collecting sand and stones as his father did before him, earning 500 rupees for six hours of work.

     The conversation switches to marriage. The Chongiya follow other sub-castes that we have met in not marrying outside their community. But we are heartened to hear that Chongiya women typically marry between the ages of 18 and 22. In other words, no betrothals at the age of five as in the Chidimar.

     Unlike the Kusbadiya we met, this family is also fiercely committed to education. We are introduced to Siwani, 10, who is the only member of the family present to have gone to school. They break out into grins as Siwani steps up and answers our questions without missing a beat.

     Siwani’s brother dropped out of school after failing his exams and went to work in a shop that sells alcohol. The family is fiercely determined that Siwani will not suffer the same fate. Primary education is free in Nepal and students receive a meal throughout grade 3 (between the ages of 6-14). But it still costs 6,000 rupees a year to pay for the uniform, pens, bags etc.

     That is a lot of money for this family but Siwani seems worth every rupee. She is determined to become a police officer and practices her salute out on us. Her mother and father glow with pride and we share their joy. Finally, here is a group that understands the power of education.

     Pinky and I reach the same conclusion and look forward to the day that Siwani enrols in the police academy.

      

     Next: The Khatik Pig Farmers

104. The Kewat Plate-makers

     November 24, 2024 11:51 am Leave a Comment

     

     Soni Kewat makes duna plates from the leaves of the Sal tree

      

     We have come to visit members of the Kewat sub-caste in the center of bustling Nepalgunj and are greeted by a delightful scene.

     A large tarpaulin has been spread out in the road. On top of it sit a score of Kewat women and children surrounded by piles of green leaves. The traffic flows around them and their saris stand out in brilliant color against the urban grime. Neighbors drop by to look and chat, and the occasional cow also wanders by. Whatever is going on here, it is woven into the life of this busy city.

     According to the 2021 housing census, there were 184,298 Kewat in Nepal so they hardly qualify as an endangered minority. Nor are they Dalit. The Kewat belong instead to a larger group known as the Mallah who are themselves part of the fourth (worker) caste, Shudra.

     I read that the Mallah are viewed with some disdain and treated like Dalit by many authorities, but there is no lack of confidence in this group here in downtown Nepalgunj. They are making duna plates from leaves of the Sal tree that are widely used during festivals. Three generations are hard at work including Mangala Kewat, a granny, several aunts, and two girls – Sanjana, 12, and her sister Muskan, 16. They are friendly and happy to talk to Pinky, who sits herself down in their midst, and they pay no attention to my intrusive camera. There is none of the panic that we detected in our last interview with the Kusbadiya.

     I’m looking for an answer to what has become, for us, a key question – whether these sub-castes and social groups are capable of evolving and changing from within.

     Lahu Ram Chaudhary, who heads BASE’s operation in this area, provides some background. The original Kewat was a boatman in the India epic Ramyana who ferried the God Rama across the river during his exile and had the impertinence to ask that the God wash his feet before stepping into his boat. As a result, the Kewat became known as boatmen in India and Nepal and ferried travelers across rivers until the advent of bridges. The Kewat stayed with transport and began collecting hay for horses. As horses yielded to tuk tuks they turned to making plates from leaves as they are doing here.

     This is all very superficial but it does suggest a group that can spot opportunities and evolve.

     Lahu Ram Chaudhary is not so sure and says that the Kewat exhibit many of the exclusionary traits of other sub-castes. They never marry into other castes and will not touch food prepared by others. They also have their own system of conflict resolution. Nor does their attitude to education seem particularly progressive. Muskan Kewat, 16, dropped out of school early to help her family make plates. Until recently, about 25 members of this Kewat group lived in a single large room.

     All the same, this group does not seem isolated from larger society like the other sub-castes we have met so far, and there is no suggestion that they are victims of discrimination. This probably has to do with their occupation. Making duna plates, it seems, is not viewed as demeaning or threatened by the advance of technology. It is also catering to a real demand. Many other Kewat families here in Nepalgunj also make duna plates and bowls for use at festivals. The older women also supplement their income by washing dishes for about 1,500 rupees a month.

     The plate-making process is all very collegiate. The women head out to the forest in groups of four or five to collect the Sal leaves. They then return and work together in groups like this one to attach the leaves with thin strips of wood. The resulting plate is sturdy and liquid-proof. I ate from one at a recent Tharu home and found it very effective.

     How viable is their plate-making business? This group of Kewat is able to make several hundred plates a day and each plate sells for about 5 rupees during the larger festivals or social events. All the same, prices are low because so many other families are making plates and Sal leaves are plentiful. In Kathmandu, however, each plate sells for 30 rupees during the Dashain festival. (The Sal tree is only found in the plains of the Terai which is far from Kathmandu.)

     This could open up an income-generating opportunity. If these plate-makers could find a market in Kathmandu they would score big. It should not be too complicated. BASE would need to cover the cost of transport, training in marketing, book-keeping and small business development. The plate-makers might also benefit from a savings group, which is a BASE speciality.

     We will suggest this to Dilli and Churna. These women are smart and productive. They would turn any financial support into a sound investment.

      

     

     Pinky from BASE joins Mangana Kewat and her family as they make duna plates in Nepalgunj.

      

     Next: The Chongiya Beggars

105. The Kusbadiya Stone-carvers

     November 21, 2024 11:27 am Leave a Comment

     

     Sara Kusbadiya carves and sells stones for use in grinding spices

      

     We stop just outside Nepalgunj to visit a settlement of Kusbadiya, one of the lesser-known sub-castes.

     Only 552 Nepalis identified as Kusbadiya in 2000, making them the smallest Dalit sub-caste in the country. They also feature in an interesting discussion about group identity. The Kusbadiya are linked to another sub-caste known as the Pattharkatta, and some have even changed their name. But there is a big difference between the two groups. The Kusbadiya have been recognized as an indigenous minority and as an endangered ethnic group, which raises their status and ensures their protection. The Pattharkatta are listed as Dalit and so linked to untouchability.

     This has intrigued some scholars but is probably of little interest to the three Kusbadiya women who agree to talk to us – Sara Kusbadiya, a widow, and her two daughters Sunara, 17 and Parkhi, 25. It emerges that they are under more pressure than any family we have yet met.

     Kusbadiya are known for carving grooves into stones which can then be used as cutting boards or for grinding spices. Sara, the mother, is hard at work on a large stone when we arrive and her stone is quite beautiful.

     But the sad fact is that Sara’s skill makes little economic sense. The family buys about 20 stones a month in India at a cost of 350 rupees each (including import duties) and sell the stones for around 750 rupees after they are carved. But other cutting boards made from wood and plastic are available on the market at a much cheaper price, and the three women supplement their income by making and selling rope and plastic buckets. Their ancient skill may soon be obsolete. They must know it and it must scare them.

     The two girls have little interest in talking with us, but we do learn that Sara pulled her daughter Parkhi from school when she left for a trip to India because she was concerned that Parkhi would “run off with boys.”

     Parkhi is now long past the age at which Kusbadiya girls marry. But if she does find a husband he will be selected by her mother from within the Kusbadiya community. Parkhi seems resigned to this but the pool of candidates would appear to be shrinking. Forty families used to live in this settlement but fifteen have moved elsewhere. Parkhi’s younger sister Sunara also dropped out of school at grade 10 (aged 15).

     After a time, the three women lapse into silence. The two sisters sit with grim faces for several minutes before heading off on bicycles to sell plastic buckets and ropes. They seem relieved to be free from the questioning.

     Our visit has been quick and uncomfortable, and I feel we did not handle it well. But it has given us an insight into how small sub-castes can trap their members in a vicious cycle of poverty, isolation and anxiety. This group of Kusbadiya seems sealed off from the world, with no will to change. Conditions in their settlement are also grim – the families live in open tents and have no blankets during the winter. Neither sister shows interest in completing her education. They have no savings and no obvious options.

     Right now I doubt whether any initiative from BASE would even be welcomed, let alone trigger change. The marriage barrier will remain intact until a brave Kusbadiya soul falls in love with someone from another caste and stands up to the parents. That, obviously, has to come from within the group. Education support is desperately needed, although school is clearly not a priority for this family. Perhaps other Kusbadiya girls could be persuaded to accept a scholarship.

     Finally, there is no obvious leader to work with and no advocate hiding in plain sight, like Sunita Chidimar. We hear that two Kusbadiya men were respected but that one had died and the other is in jail.

     I will mark this visit down as a failure and recommend that BASE conducts a fuller inquiry into this small but beleaguered sub-caste. Somewhere in here there will be Kusbadiya who yearn for a better life and will take a risk to achieve it.

      

     

     Parkhi Kusbadiya, left and her sister Sunara both dropped out of school to help their mother carve stones and sell rope

      

      

     Next – The Kewat Plate-makers

106. Conflict Survivors Demand a Say in War Reparations in Nepal

     November 20, 2024 4:16 pm Leave a Comment

     

     Sarita Thapa’s father disappeared during the war in 1999. She now works for a municipality, and shows how collaboration between local government and conflict survivors could help the search for reparations. The book profiles 680 cases of serious abuse committed in Bardiya District.

      

     When I first met Sarita Thapa in 2016 in central Nepal she was still grieving for her father, Shayam Bahadur, who had disappeared after being seized by security forces in 1999 at the height of the Maoist rebellion.

     The loss of her father had triggered an unimaginable chain of events for Ms Thapa and her mother. After being disowned by neighbors they were expelled from the village. Soon after, Ms Thapa’s husband died suddenly from a snakebite. Years later she still seemed overwhelmed by the unfairness of it all.

     It was a different Sarita Thapa who joined a recent meeting of conflict victims and survivors in the town of Gulariya, Bardiya District. Ms Thapa now works for her local municipality, where she offers counseling to 159 other survivors. She has regained her self-confidence, and with good reason. This is a job that draws on her experience and earns the respect of others.

     More than this, Ms Thapa’s work shows how collaboration between local government and survivors can help in providing reparations to those damaged by the conflict.

     This discussion is now under way following passage of a recent law on transitional justice that set up a Reparations Fund and two commissions to investigate disappearances and promote truth and reconciliation, each with its own reparations unit. As well as providing compensation, many see reparations as a broad tool for helping communities and individuals to heal.

     But the euphoria is also tempered by realism. Tens of thousands of Nepalis were affected by the war and the cost of full compensation could run to billions.

     Such money will be hard to find, particularly as this is Nepal’s second attempt at compensation. Following the peace agreement in 2006, the government of Nepal created a peace trust fund which raised around $230 million, with the government contributing 60% and donors covering the rest. Survivors and family members were allocated around $8 million of “interim relief.”

     The most serious cases received 1 million rupees ($7,575) in installments and I remember Ms Thapa complaining that the staggered payments had made it hard to invest in land or build a new house. One reason was the enormous strain placed on Nepal’s finances.

     The prospects for another generous pay-out seem even dimmer at a time when humanitarian aid is reeling from the crises in Ukraine, Gaza and Sudan. One European diplomat in Kathmandu described his government as sympathetic but looking for reassurance.

     *

     This is well understood by survivors of the conflict, who have most at stake in the process and most to lose if it fails. They also understand the need to show that they can be reliable partners in the debate ahead.

     “We have much to offer,” said Bhagiram Chaudhary, who heads the survivors’ group in Bardiya and lost his brother and sister-in-law during the war. “No-one knows the facts like us. But we also know we can’t expect a blank check.”

     This is being discussed at meetings across Nepal like the gathering in Gulariya. Bardiya suffered more disappearances than any other district and the survivors here are among the best organized in the country. They formed a Conflict Victims Committee (CVC) in 2006 and opened the door to victims of abuse by both sides – Maoist rebels and government forces.

     The same urge for inclusiveness inspired the creation of a broad-based National Network of Victims and Survivors of Serious Human Rights Abuses in 2022. The network lobbied successfully for the new law on transitional justice and has chapters in over 60 of the country’s 77 districts.

     Bhagiram Chaudhary is general secretary of the national network and said that survivors offer a vast repository of knowledge. He also noted that the facts are well known – so much so that the Bardiya committee has published a book of the 680 most serious cases in the district.

     Survivors see no need to re-open these cases from scratch. But they do expect the new commissions to establish definitive databases and offer survivors the chance to describe their experience in person – an essential part of healing. The Bardiya committee is eager to facilitate such face-to-face meetings.

     *

     The urgency of these local discussions contrasts sharply with the stuttering debate over transitional justice in Kathmandu, which stalled for years over legal accountability and political squabbling before passage of the recent law.

     There is little sign of deadlock in Bardiya, far from the capital. Helped by a new constitution in 2015 that devolved power to the regions, and by the integration of Maoists into the political process, many municipalities have taken initiatives to address the needs of survivors and ensure that reparations go beyond financial compensation.

     This has led to an explosion of creativity in the form of street theater, memorial parks, wall paintings, memorial quilts and family shrines. Many of these initiatives have been supported by Maoist mayors, who are achieving through peaceful means what they failed to achieve by war.

     All involve close collaboration between local government and survivors, and Sarita Thapa’s counseling shows how this can also be made to work for reparations, with a nudge from donors.

     Ms Thapa works for the municipality through the Centre for Mental Health and Counseling, a Nepali NGO that is active in communities and receives support from the Swiss government. The Swiss been active in promoting the new law on transitional justice and are said to be eager for practical solutions.

     *

     Some challenges seem beyond the reach of survivors. First and foremost, how do they put a price tag on their losses?

     When I put the question to the recent meeting in Gulariya I was met with indignation and confusion. Laxmi Khadka sold her house and land after her husband was seized and assumed killed by Maoist rebels, over twenty years ago. “How much have I lost?” she asked. ‘Not less than 5 million rupees.”

     Finding an acceptable formula will certainly be difficult. It might be possible to estimate the lost earnings of businessmen like Ms Khadka’s husband or Sarita Thapa’s father, but most victims in Bardiya were farmers who worked outside the formal economy and grew to feed their families.

     Even if a formula can be found, the demands are bound to dwarf what is available. No one at the recent meeting was ready to accept less than 2 million rupees, which could amount to more than $10 million in Bardiya alone. And Bardiya is just one of 75 districts affected by the war.

     Still the Bardiya committee is determined to take the initiative and show agency. It has submitted questionnaires to seventy families and plans to reach out to relatives of all 680 serious cases, while at the same time hoping that experts at the new reparations fund will point the way.

     *

     Survivors are more confident of ensuring that gender is factored into reparations. Over 9,000 women were widowed during the war, and they were the first to absorb the shock of a disappearance or killing.

     Kushma Chaudhary, a skilled fiber artist who has worked with The Advocacy

     Project since 2016, recalled how the disappearance of her father left her mother to manage the family’s land, care for seven young children (including 4 daughters) and deal with the suspicion of neighbors.

     The anguish of widows was worsened by their inferior standing in a patriarchal society. At the time, Ms Chaudhary’s mother was forbidden under law from inheriting land owned by her husband (this is permitted under the new law). Nor could she officially declare her husband dead, and receive benefits, until his body was recovered. The education of her daughters also suffered.

     The hard edges have softened over time. Ms Chaudhary’s six siblings are married and now provide her mother with a safety net. Also, Kushma was younger than Sarita Thapa when her own father disappeared and seems to have weathered the intervening years better. She said she would be grateful for whatever the family receives and will “trust the government to do its best.”

     If they are accepted as genuine partners in the reparations debate, survivor committees will no doubt make sure such conciliatory messages are heard.

     *

     If the ultimate goal of reparations is to promote healing, the initiative will have to come from survivors in communities. This cannot be imposed.

     Under the new law, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission will offer survivors and victims a chance to confront perpetrators and appeal to the courts if they are unsatisfied. But this will not address the social exclusion suffered by Sarita Thapa and her mother, which was more subtle than violent.

     Ms Thapa hedged when I asked if she has settled her differences with the neighbors and relatives who drove her away after the disappearance of her father. “They have expressed regret for what happened,” she replied cautiously.

     It sounded like an apology, but not quite. The same ambivalence will no doubt be felt across Nepal in the months ahead.

      

     

     Kushma Chaudhary was one of seven children left to support their mother after Kushma’s father disappeared during the conflict. Feeding the family has been the first priority.

      

     *

107. Remembering Badi Prostitution

     November 17, 2024 11:18 am Leave a Comment

      

     

     In the Ghorahi Badi community

      

     This blog will take us deeper into Badi research. Pinky and I spent much of yesterday with three Badi women in the town of Ghorahi and then visited the neighborhood where they live not far from the town center.

     Rangita, Sarita and Dropati Badi were turned into advocates by their experience during the years of prostitution. They have just completed several months of embroidery training provided by a local nonprofit, the Nepal Women’s Community Development Center, and are preparing to launch their own business making embroidery for festivals and weddings. They are happy to be quoted and identified by name but ask that we do not use their photos on social media, indicating some sensitivity about their caste.

     *

     The prostitution years come vividly alive through the memories of these three women. Many families practiced prostitution and clients used to come from as far away as Kathmandu and Pokhara. The main Badi houses – brothels, really – were well known, and rowdy customers would spill out into the streets and look for women elsewhere. Rangita was in her teens at the time and remembers cowering upstairs in her room while drunken men tried to force their way in: “We locked the door and tried to hide.”

     The three girls decided they had had enough and went with a group of other teenage Badi girls to the local municipality where they persuaded the authorities to open a hostel for Badi girls. BASE and UNICEF also opened safe houses for Badi girls in Ghorahi around the same time.

     By this time there was also growing outrage at the fate of Badi children born from prostitution. As noted in an earlier blog, clients of the Badi usually refused to provide their names. This meant that when a child was born out of wedlock – as happened often – her or she was stateless because nationality was handed down through the father. The words “Father Not Known” were entered into their ID cards and as Rangita noted this was like writing “this is the child of a Badi prostitute.” Of course, the Badi mothers did not have a marriage certificate.

     As I noted earlier, this provoked a memorable protest in 2007 when a large group of Badi women descended on Kathmandu and took off most of their clothes in protest. The reaction in far-off Ghorahi was less noisy but no less impressive. Rangita and her two friends petitioned the municipality and got the offensive words removed from the ID cards of Badi children.

     Life remained tough for Badi women and girls even as the prostitution began to wane. The three friends stayed close and worked in stone quarries for several years to supplement the family income. The crushing of stones by hand was another exhausting and dangerous labor practice that was common in Central Nepal and has largely stopped (as a result of new technology and pressure).

     Dropati says that they would put in about six hours a day before and after school and that they continued to crush stones full-time for several years after graduating. They would earn around 1,600 rupees ($11.50 at today’s prices) for a tractor-load of crushed stones. They stopped working in the quarries about three years ago and began embroidery training six months ago, so all this is relatively recent.

     During this long, fascinating and occasionally awkward conversation we edge into the issue of marriage. Dropati’s husband Giri is from the Chhetri caste, and together they have a 14-year old daughter (who is registered in her father’s name). But Giri’s family refuses to be associated with Badi, and Giri has been banished from his parents’ home. Dropati says that her mother-in-law recently married again and that the new husband is even more intolerant.

     This shows how marriage can prevent social mobility and reinforce caste, although there are brave exceptions like Dropati and her family. We are told that several other Badi men and women in the settlement have also married into other castes. That seems like a hopeful sign.

     *

     We take a tuk tuk (3-wheeled taxi) to the Badi neighborhood where Dropita, Rangita and Sarita live on the outskirts of Ghorahi town. The settlement is home to 105 families and the three friends explain how it came into being.

     Thirty-one families were living elsewhere on private land and a friendly landlord offered them land here. But when the remaining seventy families followed and settled on public land the other landowners stopped farming in protest. This hostility persists. “We are not accepted when we live with people from different castes,” explains Rangita. She adds that even attractive Badi girls are quickly dumped when their boyfriends learn they are Badi. We do a quick tour of the settlement, which floods in the monsoon.

     The discussion turns to education, an important tool for producing social change but a big worry for Badi mothers here. There are 117 Badi children in the settlement but half do not attend school. However, they do have access to a white-washed community center and our guides ask Pinky if BASE could turn it into an after-school center. Many kids would attend, they say, and BASE would have no trouble finding Badi women from the settlement to help out. It seems like a good idea. But perhaps they should also be asking the municipality for a government school.

     I ask our guides whether any Badi families have changed their names. The answer is almost none because Dalit families get nutritional support and free education for children up to the age of five and they do not want to lose these privileges. Perhaps it’s because the settlement is so physically defined, but I also get the sense that these families also cling to their group identity for protection. Dropita says that some of her women friends changed their names from Badi and left to live in the Gulf. “They call me in tears and want to come home” she says sadly.

     I leave the settlement feeling that any intervention or training should focus on the specific needs of the beneficiaries and that these will vary with each group.  The embroidery shop in Ghorahi is a brave initiative but caters to a niche market, namely weddings and festivals. Pinky and I both make a purchase and find the prices quite high. Perhaps making and mending clothes might attract more customers. They certainly have enough sewing machines in the Ghorahi shop, thanks to the generosity of their NGO supporter.

      

     

     Half of the Badi children in the Ghorahi settlement do not attend school. Parents want to turn this building into a center for their children.

      

     Next: The Kusbadiya Stone-carvers

108. The Gandarbha Minstrels

     11:11 am Leave a Comment

     

     Salicran Gandarbha has been playing the saranji violin for 57 years. Scroll down to enjoy his impromptu performance!

      

     Unlike the Chidimar and Badi, members of the Dalit sub-caste known as the Gandarbha are associated with a noble occupation. The Gandarbha are itinerant musicians who put stories to music while playing a sarangi – a 4-stringed violin that can play up to 40 different tunes. Nepalis are proud of their cultural traditions and the Gandarbha are very much part of the country’s musical history. Unfortunately, this has not made the lives of Gandarbha any easier.

     I need to do more research about numbers but in 2011 there were 6,791 Gandarbha in Nepal – roughly 0.03% of the overall population. I’ve met Gandarbha musicians before and realized that their interaction with the audience is almost as important as the music. This is not unlike the pala dance in the tribal villages of Odisha state, India where we also support a project.

     Many other visitors to Nepal have been intrigued by the Gandarbha, who even have a loyal following of friends in Australia known as Sarangi. Ted Samuel, one of our 2007 Fellows with a background in anthropology and a deep interest in cross-culture built his fellowship around the Gandarbha. After returning from Nepal Ted helped The Mountain Music Project to produce a stunning documentary linking the music of the Gandarbha and Appalachia. (Ted went on to earn a PhD. He is now deputy director at the Shansi Institute at Oberlin College.)

     Sadly, however, the Gandarbha also suffer from the social and economic exclusion that is common to other Dalit sub-castes. According to one estimate, only 31 % of Gandarbha men and 18% of women are literate. Many are reduced to begging and have become a familiar sight in the Thamel quarter of Kathmandu. This has led to some awkward encounters with irritated tourists, which Ted described in an indignant blog.

     Driven by poverty, many talented Gandarbha musicians are putting their sarangis aside and heading off to do menial work in India and the Middle East. As one report puts it sadly: “Our art form is slowly dying.”

     *

     About fifty Gandarbha families live here in Tulsipor and eight musicians are said to perform regularly. We went to meet some of them and were given an impromptu concert by Salicran Gandarbha, 69, watched by about ten younger Gandarbha men.

     Salicran has been playing the sarangi and singing for 57 years and gives a confident performance. He plays his sarangi with skill and his voice has a nicely plaintive tone, although his songs are incredibly repetitious. I am told by Pinky that they are also impossible to translate, while being vaguely about religion. Readers can judge for themselves by opening the video link that will shortly be embedded below in this blog.

     For Salicran it’s all about interaction with his audience and nothing seems to be off-limits. He even cracks jokes about his family, even though seven of his 13 children have died and his wife has also passed away. In fact, his life seems incredibly difficult. Two of his grown sons are living at home and this forces their father to play and sing in the market, which brings in about 1,500 rupees a day. Salicran also does a lot of begging and makes sarangi violins on the side. (He reckons to have made 60 violins during his lifetime). Last year he earned around 50,000 rupees.

     Pinky and I discuss Salicran’s predicament in between songs and agree it presents a challenge. Drawing on its income-generation tools, BASE has funded a project to train 30 Gandarbha to make sarangi violins, but we are told that only two or three violins have sold for around 8,000 rupees apiece.

     Is there a better way to reward the talents of Gandarbha musicians like Salicran and preserve their culture?

     *

     At some point we become aware of the audience, which is almost entirely comprised of young men. They are watching intently and break out in guffaws at Salicran’s self-deprecating humor. But they are also interested in the music and seem proud of their heritage as Gandarbha.

     I’m also struck by the fact that there are no women in the audience. I read in one 2011 report that many Gandarbha women have a brutally tough life and used to work at crushing stones. But I have not seen any suggestion that they sing or play music.

     It turns out that another Gandarbha musician, Sushil Dukhi, is in the audience. If Salicran is the face of past tradition, Sushil is the future. He spent 200,000 rupees of his own money to launch a page on YouTube and has 845 subscribers. Over 11,000 people have watched his videos and I am not surprised because he sings beautifully and his songs are very easy on the ear. I’m a bit worried however: when I checked his YouTube page today, it was down.

     I also took a dive into Tiktok and Instagram and found – to my surprise – that other Gandarbha performers are attracting hundreds of thousands of views. This performance by young Biraj Gandarbha, another YouTube star, has received 1,7 million views.

     Could this be the future for Gandarbha music? Everyone listening to Salicran has a mobile phone and uses social media and this makes me wonder if they could help BASE to build an international audience for Gandarbha music. Of course the live performances will remain front and center, and I would definitely include female Gandarbha in any future training. Would they be interested? We won’t know until we ask.

     Unlike other sub-castes there is also a Gandarbha support system in place in the form of the Gandharba Cultural Art Organisation in Kathmandu, and foreign friends like the Sarangi project in Australia. UNESCO supports four World Heritage sites in Nepal and might also come to the rescue of this dying art form. The Mountain Music Project is still in business. So there do seem to be serious possibilities for international engagement.

     I’m going to put some time into this when I get back and see if we can interest any students. Please share any suggestions!

      

      

     Next: Remembering Badi Prostitution

109. Badi Fishing

     November 16, 2024 11:09 am Leave a Comment

     

     Hari Prasad Badi has been fishing for fifty years

      

     We visit a Badi family that lives some miles out of Tulsipor and has participated in a BASE project to supply Badi families with pigs. Their main source of income is fishing, an occupation that is associated with the Badi like prostitution and drum-making. I hope to learn more from this visit and also enjoy the river views. Also, it’s an excuse to take some photos!

     The fishing is done by Hari Prasad Badi while his sister-in-law, Sundari Badi, works the garden. Three Badi families live together and they moved here 25 years ago from the town of Rajapur to be close to the river. They work the land but do not own it.

     Sundari also keeps a small pig. She received a first pig from BASE which she kept for a year and sold for 11,000 rupees. She used the money to buy another pig for 5,000 rupees and used the rest to cover expenses, which amount to about 2,500 rupees a month. She thinks the pig idea is fine but would like to own more.

     Prasad, 63, has been fishing since the age of 17 and makes his own nets which are held down by scores of tiny lead weights. We accompany him down to the river, which is very shallow, and he spends the next two hours treading through the water. He fishes for two to three hours every day and catches around two kilos of fish which he sells for around 1,200 rupees in the market. Today’s catch is considerably less than two kilos.

     Fishing and pigs hardly generate a decent wage. Yet Prasad and Sundari look puzzled when we ask if they would choose different occupations. The fact is that their options are limited. Fishing provides an income, for sure, but there is competition from other fishing families and this keeps prices low. In addition, this family lives out of town and is isolated from other Badi, which deprives them of group support and rules out collaborative activities like a savings group.

     Pigs might be one solution and Sundari knows pigs. But she makes it clear she will need more than one pig to build up some capital and produce a sustained income.

     

     Sundari Badi received a pig from BASE

      

      

     Next: The Gandarbha Minstrels

110. A Badi Family Remembers

     November 15, 2024 10:49 am Leave a Comment

      

     

     Jamuna Badi runs a successful business selling snacks to bus passengers

      

     Jamuna Badi and her husband Sankar Badi Nepali continue working while we chat. Jamuna is selling snacks to passengers. Sankar weaves a gossamer-thin fishing net.

     Jamuna earns around 20,000 rupees ($141 at current prices) each month from her store. She also made and sold 15 madal traditional drums during the recent Dashain and Tihar (Diwali) festivals. Her husband fishes and sells his nets to other Badi men for around 7,000 rupees.

     Given the role played by poverty in the Badi story, this is encouraging. When combined with the proceeds from Jamuna’s store, the fishing nets and drums provide this couple with a good living.

     Jamuna Badi is a survivor. She gave birth to four daughters. One died and another was abandoned by her husband and now lives at home with two younger sisters. She is also happy to talk about the era of prostitution, which she remembers well. Jamuna herself must be in her mid-fifties and we do not ask whether she herself engaged in prostitution. But her family was certainly in the thick of it. Prostitution was everywhere, she says, and she recalls how clients used to roam through the streets harassing women and girls.

     It became so bad that Jamuna joined up with about fifty other young women and formed a cooperative (Nawa Nirman Mahila Bahu Uddhaya) to respond to threats. “We used to bring people to the group and also report them to police!” The group included prostitutes and friends. This was resistance and advocacy.

     I pop the question – do Jamuna and her husband feel pride or shame at being Badi? This produces an interesting response. Jamuna’s husband Sankar confesses that he was so uncomfortable to be known as a Badi that he has taken the additional name of Nepali, which is a generic name used by Dalit.

     His wife scoffs at this but concedes that being a Badi opens her up to occasional abuse. “In our culture when someone misbehaves they are said to be ‘acting like a Badi!’” She adds that her daughters sometimes feel “humiliated” at being Badi. But it’s nothing they can’t handle.

     This reminds me of the difference between Sunita and Ramu Chidimar which I described in an earlier blog. Like Sunita, Jamuna Badi is a reminder that many strong-minded women are prepared to take a stand within these sub-castes. I’m beginning to think that they might be the best hope for change.

      

     

     Sankar Badi Nepali makes and uses fishing nets

      

     Next: Badi Fishing

111. Badi Prostitution and Coercion

     November 12, 2024 10:41 am 2 Comments

     

     This photo was taken by AP in 2004 during a visit to a Badi community, when prostitution was still legal

      

     Along the road from Nepalgunj to Tulsipor we stop at a bus stop above the River Rapti to meet Jamuna Badi and her husband Sankar Badi Nepali. Jamuna and Sankar are our introduction to the Badi, one of the few Dalit sub-castes that are well known outside Nepal. The reason is that Badi women practiced prostitution for many centuries and still cannot shake off the stigma. We’d like to hear why from the Badi themselves.

     I’ll share more of Jamuna’s story in my next blog but for the moment I want to reflect on one of the defining features of caste – the fact that it leaves people with no option to change. The Badi are a perfect, if poignant, example.

     The Badi first came to Nepal from India in the fourteenth century and served as courtesans at principalities and the Royal Court where they danced, sang and provided sex for nobles. This ended in 1951 when the Rana dynasty collapsed. Deprived of royal patronage, Badi women were left to fend for themselves and took up prostitution on a larger scale.

     Prostitution was criminalized in 2008 but a government task force the same year found that 6% of all Badi women were still practicing prostitution and almost twenty years later the association still hangs over the Badi like a cloud.

     There is still some controversy over whether the prostitution was coerced, and if so how. I noted in my second blog that caste was by definition coercive because it denied people agency, and this is certainly implied when one says that Badi girls were “born into prostitution.” The process is explained in this fascinating 2007 paper by Thomas Cox which describes how Badi girls were readied for prostitution, like child brides:

     “Badi girls from early childhood on know and generally accept the fact that a life of prostitution awaits them. Badi girls see all the young women around them and often their own mothers and sisters prostitute themselves on a daily basis. Badi girls also usually do not go to school and have little contact with outsiders. They are thus not exposed to many ideas, values or beliefs that counter those in their own society.  Girls also learn early on that prostitution is the only means of support available to most Badi women.”

     Prostitution was so deeply entrenched in Badi communities that a girl’s first experience of sexual intercourse was – like marriage – accompanied by a ceremony known as nathiya kholne. Badi girls had their own argot (slang) which allowed them to discuss prostitution with their mothers in the presence of strangers without disclosing business secrets.

     This is how a social norm coerces and it resembles other traditional practices encountered by The Advocacy Project through the years. These have included genital cutting in Kenya (FGM), bonded labor in Nepal, the trafficking of women from Nigeria to Italy, and child marriage in Zimbabwe. In each of these cases tradition combined with poverty to further dis-empower vulnerable people, particularly girls. Such practices are so deeply embedded in society that it requires enormous willpower to resist. The younger the victim the more difficult this is and the less likely she will understand, let alone protest.

     In some cases, we have found that women who had themselves suffered were among the most zealous advocates. For example, the trafficking of young women from Nigeria to Italy (2000) was managed by “madams” who had themselves been trafficked. We also found that parents were also fierce defenders of FGM in Kenya (2014). This fits with Cox’s description of Badi prostitution in Nepal in 2008. His paper suggests that the main culprits were Badi mothers and grandmothers who prepared their daughters for prostitution and took care of the business side.

     Poverty is also relevant to this discussion because it leaves people with few choices. Did prostitution condemn Badi families to poverty? Perhaps. Some girls interviewed by Cox in 2007 charged as little as 30 rupees (21 cents at today’s rate) for a session. Hardly enough to support an entire family.

     The impact of prostitution on Badi children offered an even more clear-cut example of coercion. Clients of Badi prostitutes would refuse to give their names or accept responsibility if they fathered a child, which happened often. As a result, the children remained stateless because citizenship was patrilineal (handed down through fathers).

     This was pure coercion because the children had no say in the matter, and it spelled the beginning of the end for Badi prostitution. In 2005 The Supreme Court of Nepal passed a landmark decision granting citizenship to Badi children. When the government dragged its feet, over 500 enraged Badi mothers descended on Kathmandu and partially undressed in the center of the city. Lawmakers were scandalized and no doubt embarrassed (because some had fathered Badi children). The world also took notice and a law was passed in 2007. The same year, prostitution was also outlawed.

     Of course, not every individual act of Badi prostitution was involuntary. Some feminists would also say that women should be free to choose their own profession, however unsavory it might appear. Some literature even suggests that prostitution in Nepal gave Badi women agency and turned them into the family breadwinners. As recently as June 2021 some Badi women in the mid-west even demanded a license to practice sex-work, to ensure their livelihood.

     All of this is fascinating, but for now I’m happy to go with the prevailing theory that Badi women were trapped into centuries of prostitution by the social norm. Judging from this first meeting, many Badi remain trapped by the stigma.

     More reading:

     The Badi: Prostitution as a social norm among an untouchable caste of West Nepal by Thomas Cox Orchid Press,  Hong Kong, 2007.

     The Badi Community of Nepal, UN Field Bulletin, December 2012

     Poverty Forces “Untouchable” Women to Prostitution by Anju Gautam Yogi, Global Press Journal 2012

      

     Next: A Badi Family Remembers

112. The Chidimar Bird-catchers

     November 9, 2024 10:34 am Leave a Comment

     

      

     Our first meeting with a sub-caste takes place in the town of Nepalgunj, with a group of Chidimar.

     The Chidimar are a sub-caste of the Dalit who hunted and killed exotic birds for rich patrons and the word chidimar means “bird killer” in Hindi. Their traditional language is Bhojpuri.

     The practice of catching birds was still going strong in 2006 when Mark Koenig, one of our Peace Fellows who developed a great interest in caste, profiled a Chidimar family and wrote a blog about the crossbows they used to snare their prey.

     Thankfully, bird-killing is now in its final throes as a result of deforestation and falling demand. The Chidimar population is also declining. The 2021 housing census put the total number of Chidimar in Nepal at 1,625 and around 600 of them live here in the town of Nepalgunj. We learn that only three Chidimar families are still hunting birds here and selling them for about 250 rupees ($1.80). Who would have thought that a rare bird’s life could be worth so little?

     We hold an impromptu meeting in the street with Ramu Chidimar, who is a leader in the Chidimar community here and is recovering from dengue fever. He is happy to talk about caste and says that his son was mocked mercilessly at school for being a bird killer. It became so bad that Ramu went with a group of other Chidimar parents to the town council and asked if they could change their last names to Bahelia, a lesser-known sub-caste that used to make fans from peacock feathers but is not associated with bird killing. Their request was approved, which means that the Chidimar-Bahelia can continue to receive the 3,500 rupees a month and health insurance given to Dalit families with over five members.

     Then another voice is heard. It belongs to Sunita Chidimar, seen in the photo above. She says that her son, 17, has no problem with his name and doesn’t care what people think of him. (Take that Ramu!). Her own story is even more remarkable. Sunita was betrothed to be married at the age of five by her parents and taken out of school at the age of fourteen to live with her young husband. Her son was born soon afterwards, after a long and agonizing pregnancy.

     The news that child marriage is ingrained in Chidimar culture comes as a bombshell to Pinky, who represents BASE in a nationwide coalition of NGOs that are campaigning for an end to early marriage. Early marriage has been criminalized but is so widely practiced in Nepal that 6% of all Nepali girls marry before the age of 15.

     Pinky listens attentively as Sunita describes her ordeal. Sunita also discloses the fact that most Chidimar families in Nepalgunj are unaware of vaccinations. She has nothing but contempt for such ignorance and says that the Chidimar take less care of their children than other minorities.

     This is not a flattering portrait of her people, but Sunita herself comes across as a strong and articulate advocate for change. Angered that her own education was cut short at the age of 14 she recently enrolled at high school and is currently studying in grade 11 – one step up from her own son.

     Sunita is also the first-ever Chidimar to be chosen as a community health volunteer. This is a government post that carries a nominal stipend, but it also gives Sunita the chance to educate Chidimar mothers about the importance of vaccinating their infants and protecting their daughters from early marriage. Even BASE does not have this sort of access and Pinky notes down Sunita’s phone details. I have to think that UNICEF and the UN Population Agency (UNFPA) would also be interested in meeting her.

     Sunita will be a relentless advocate for Chidimar women and girls because she will be forever motivated by her own searing experience. Pinky certainly plans to stay in touch.

      

     Next: Badi Prostitution and Coercion

113. The Origins of Caste

     October 29, 2024 7:34 am Leave a Comment

      

     

     Most of those who work in brick factories are from Dalit sub-castes and include young children and elderly women. This photo was taken by AP in 2012 at a factory in Tulsipor.

      

     Pinky and I met yesterday with Dilli and Churna Chaudhary from BASE at a café in Kathmandu (with Dilli’s bodyguards hovering close by). It quickly became clear that this will be a fascinating but challenging assignment.

     Caste-based discrimination in Nepal has been repeatedly criminalized in law and should no longer exist, but it clearly does. Our job is to figure out how, why and what are the impacts.

     Here’s what I’ve gleaned from my preliminary reading.

     Caste in Southeast Asia emerged with the Hindu religion and was associated with Brahma, a four-headed Hindu deity who was believed to have created the universe and manifested physical features that became the four main castes. The first and noblest caste were the Brahmins – priests and teachers who emerged from Brahma’s head. The second caste, known as Kshatriyas in India and Chhetri in Nepal, were created from Brahma’s arms and were the warriors. The third caste, Vaishyas, were merchants and traders who emerged from Brahma’s thighs. The fourth class, Shudra, did the manual labor and came from Brahma’s feet.

     A fifth group, long known as Untouchables, were outside the caste system but in the minds of many are more closely associated with caste than the four castes themselves. Mahatma Gandhi called untouchables harijans – meaning children of God. They are known today as Dalit, a word that comes from Sanskrit and originally meant “crushed.”

     There are many other explanations for the origins of caste. One is based on karma (fate) and reincarnation. Crudely put, there is no escaping membership of your caste. But if you accept your karma in this life without complaint you may expect to be reborn into a higher caste in the next. Apart from that it’s pretty much out of our control.

     The caste system moved with Hinduism into Nepal where it became so restrictive that a hierarchy of 26 sub-castes emerged within the Dalit that were also based on occupation and untouchability. At the top of the list were the Biswokarma (BK), who worked with gold. At the bottom were found the Chamar, who collected the carcasses of dead animals and Badi, whose womenfolk practiced prostitution. The Badi are often described as being the “lowest” sub-caste. While the Badi are famous, many of these other groups are quite obscure and we hope to learn more. I will refer to them as “sub-castes” in these blogs.

     Much like bonded labor, this system trapped people in occupations based on their birth and was the antithesis of individual agency. It was also the polar opposite of another great world religion, Buddhism, that was born in Nepal and holds that we find happiness (nirvana) from within ourselves, not through some imposed dogma.

     Nepal outlawed caste-discrimination in 1963 and the caste system formally ended in 2008 when Nepal ceased to be a Hindu kingdom and became a secular state under the new constitution. But discrimination persisted and in 2011 parliament felt it necessary to pass another law, the Caste-based Discrimination and Untouchability (CBDU) Act. (The shortcomings of this law are discussed in this report from Amnesty International.) The 2015 constitution also outlawed discrimination based on caste and untouchability.

     Yet caste is still alive in Nepal. How come?

     *

     Caste is both objective and subjective – a system of social demarcation on the one hand and a state of mind on the other. It’s how people are labelled, but also how they identify and how they are judged by others.

     I think most would agree that all societies have their own equivalent of a caste system, even if the word for it may lack the same shock value as “caste.” Isabel Wilkerson showed no hesitation in arguing that caste is hard-wired into American society in her magnificent book Caste. In my own country, the UK, we are obsessed by class and accent.
     

     The state of Nepal still identifies Nepali citizens by their caste. Indeed, many of those we will meet on this assignment carry the name of their sub-caste and it does not get more specific than that. Yet the official terminology is also quite vague. The 2021 National Population and Housing Census uses caste and ethnicity as if they are interchangeable.  In addition, everyone in Nepal belongs to a minority and about half the population are also considered indigenous (known as janajati and adivasi). The Dalit are considered a minority and account for just under 14% of the population.

     In short Nepalis, like the rest of us, have overlapping identities. One question is how they and others think of these identities. Are they “happy in their skin”? It will vary from person to person, of course. For example, several of my Nepali friends from the Brahmin caste are proud of their heritage. Some from the Chhetri caste also like the idea of being descended from warriors. Friends like Dilli Chaudhary from the Tharu minority here in central Nepal are fiercely proud of their Tharu identity. (In fact BASE just helped to open a Tharu Museum which is drawing crowds of visitors.)

     My Dalit friends are more nuanced. Some are also proud of their Dalit heritage, others less so.

     The state sends mixed signals about all of this. Even as it is trying to erase caste, Nepal is proud of its ethnic diversity and goes to some lengths to protect and preserve minorities. All Dalit families – which means all members of Dalit sub-castes – receive benefits from the state and Dalit are guaranteed a quota of seats in parliament and in local government. This makes me wonder whether members of less respected Dalit sub-castes, like the Badi, are ready to give up these privileges in order to escape stigma. Do they feel trapped or protected by their sub-caste?

     Are these questions even relevant? I hope we get a chance to raise some of them without causing offense.

     *

     Finally, I’m curious to see what role there might be for outsiders like BASE (and AP for that matter) who are committed to social change.

     Dilli Chaudhary talks of sub-castes as he once did about bonded laborers and kamlaris (domestic slaves) – as needing help. Dilli also feels that BASE can use the same tools it employed with such success in the campaign against bonded labor. These included outspoken advocacy, pressure on politicians, media coverage, legal reform, economic support and education. Once the law was passed abolishing kamaiya, BASE pushed for the freed laborers to receive land, education, skills training and income-generation (which included microcredit).

     The question is whether this same tool kit can address such a slippery concept as caste, which is as much about the mind as poverty. I’m not sure. Something as complex as caste needs a subtle response. Also, given the bewildering range of sub-castes, I also doubt if one size will fit all.

     More reading:

     The 2021 Nepal National Housing and Population Census – data on caste and ethnicity

     The Jagaran Media Center – a long-time AP partner that supports Dalit journalism

     Feminist Dalit Association of Nepal

     The Joshua Project on Global Ethnicity

     No-one cares – Descent-based discrimination against Dalits in Nepal (May 10 2024)

     Caste by Isabel Wilkerson (2020, Random House)

      

     Next: The Chidimar bird catchers

114. The Assignment

     October 26, 2024 7:09 am Leave a Comment

      

     

     Intrepid travelers: Pinky and Iain in Tulsipor

      

     This is the first blog in a series about the legacy of caste in central Nepal.

     I’ve been invited here by Dilli Chaudhary (photo below), a long-time friend and founder of Backward Society Education (BASE), a grassroots movement in Central Nepal that advocates for the Tharu people. Dilli is a legend in Nepal. His parents were both bonded laborers, and he created BASE in 1985 to campaign for the elimination of the practice, known as kamaiya. The result was a law that ended bonded labor in 2001 and is widely considered to be one of the greatest achievements by a Nepali NGO in recent memory.

     Dilli himself rose to become Nepal’s Minister of Labor and chief minister of Lumbini province, one of the largest in the country. He has never lost his passion for advocacy and remains committed to social justice. Hence his invitation.

     Dilli’s organization BASE is also one of our oldest partners. We sent the first of thirteen Peace Fellows to work at BASE in 2008 and in the years since we have supported BASE campaigns to free domestic slaves (known as kamlaris), end child labor and empower women dishwashers. Some of our earliest Fellows in Nepal wrote perceptive blogs about these issues and their link to caste, which I will no doubt be consulting along the way.

     I will be accompanied by Pinky Dangi, senior project manager at BASE, seen with me in the photo above. Pinky and I have been on many trips together into the villages of Central Nepal and I can think of no one better to travel with! We’ll be working in the districts of Dang and Banke and will conduct most of our research in or around the town of Tulsipor, where BASE is headquartered. This is the harvesting season, and the countryside is spectacular as you’ll see from the video below.

     At the same time I want to make it clear that the blogs that follow, and any recommendations that they contain, will be mine alone and will not reflect BASE’s position in any way. Pinky and her colleagues may well disagree with my conclusions. My assignment is simply to observe and advise.

     These blogs were written in draft form at the end of each visit but I waited to post them until I could present them as a single story and add footnotes, photos and references. One reason was that connectivity in this part of the world can be awful. Another is that if these blogs are to be useful to BASE, they will need to be part of a coherent narrative. But rest assured – each story was drafted soon after it was told to us, sometimes on the same day.

     I’m hoping this trip will yield visuals for social media, which I’ll hand over to our talented video editor Gio and our social media expert in the UK, Maddie P. We’ve made a new hashtag #legacyofcaste.

      

     

     Dilli Chaudhary founded BASE in 1985 to end bonded labor. He is seen accepting the Reebok international human rights award in 1994.

      

      

     Next: The Origins of Caste

115. How Important is Justice to Healing After Violence?

     September 30, 2024 7:41 am Leave a Comment

     Nepal suggests less than we might think

      

     Violence has been in the news in the US after two attempted assassinations against former President Donald Trump, the anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, another murderous school shooting, this time in Georgia, and a mass shooting in Alabama on September 21.

     Such acts of extreme violence are of course deeply disturbing. But they also raise a key question for human rights: is it required for the healing of survivors, and society as a whole, that the perpetrators are brought to justice?

     The answer will seem self-evident to many Americans who will soon witness a depressingly familiar sight. Bereaved and uncomprehending family members will confront the killer of their relatives in court. Some may demand the most extreme penalty while others may favor leniency, but either way Americans will respect their decision. The process of recovery – for the affected families and the nation – will begin in the court room and the journey will be taken together.

     After years of studying human rights I have always assumed that the same applies to nations emerging from civil conflict. It has become a truism that there can be no long-term peace without justice, and that survivors of violence – particularly family members – will be at the forefront in demanding punishment for those who tortured or killed their relatives.

     Nepal is giving me second thoughts.

     Best known for their spectacular mountains and friendly demeanor, Nepalis are still recovering from a brutal Maoist rebellion that killed thousands and resulted in the forcible disappearance of almost 1,400 fellow citizens.

     The conflict ended in 2006 with a model peace agreement that restored democracy and integrated rebels into the armed forces. Justice, however, proved elusive and for the past eighteen years the country has been struggling to punish crimes committed during the conflict without provoking the military and reopening wounds.

     On August 14 Nepal appeared to turn the corner. After months of haggling between the three main political parties, the Nepali parliament voted unanimously in favor of a new law to compensate victims, investigate disappearances and establish the facts of the conflict. In a nod to the celebrated South African Truth Commission, victims will also be able to confront their aggressors in person and appeal to the courts if they remain unsatisfied.

     The new law has been welcomed by Nepal’s allies, including the US, but the debate over justice seems far from over. The law will prosecute four categories of “serious human rights violations” – rape, torture, summary executions and disappearances – committed by both sides during the conflict. However, punishment will be capped at 25% of the maximum penalty allowed under Nepali law (except for rape, which will be fully prosecuted). Lesser crimes will be dealt with by the courts and could well result in acquittal.

     As we noted in a recent news bulletin, this compromise has been denounced by human rights advocates in Nepal and abroad. A group of Nepali lawyers representing the Accountability Watch Committee have argued that the 75% reduction in sentences amounts to an amnesty. A statement by Human Rights Watch agreed the new law could shield perpetrators and make it harder for victims and family members to find closure.

     Such a reaction from human rights advocates is hardly surprising. What is surprising – deeply so – is that those who have been hurt by the violence are among the most enthusiastic supporters of the new law. A nation-wide network of victims and survivors lobbied hard on its behalf and met with politicians before the vote to urge passage.

     This disagreement between advocates and survivors goes back several years and has caused resentment on both sides. Ram Bhandari, whose own father disappeared in 2001 and who coordinates the network of survivors, described the advocates as “spoilers” for rejecting the new package. He also spoke with disdain about international human rights organizations that presume to act for victims but seem to “care more about protecting laws than people.”

     Bhandari is known as a tenacious advocate himself and has publicly named three officials who he views as responsible for his father’s disappearance. But here he is squabbling with the Nepal human rights community over accountability. How come?

     When I put the question to Bhandari during a Zoom meeting, he reminded me how the Maoist rebellion, and the government’s response, had torn communities and families apart across the country far from the capital.

     I have heard this from members of Bhandari’s network, who told me how Maoist cadres would arrive in a village and randomly demand food from a family. Neighbors would denounce the family to the Army and soldiers would be sent in. Instead of being treated with sympathy and understanding by fellow villagers, family members who survived were often viewed as collaborators and driven from their homes.

     Is it possible that such social rejection could be as traumatizing as the act violence itself? Most definitely, says Dr. Yael Danieli, a noted psychotraumatologist and proponent of victims’ rights who founded the International Center for Multigenerational Legacies of Trauma and has pioneered understanding of how trauma is passed down through generations. The same can apply in natural disasters, she said. If victims and survivors are not treated with dignity and respect, the pain will deepen.

     The flip side of this is that for healing to occur, the community must acknowledge the damage and apologize. In some Nepali villages it can be enough that a street is named after a lost relative. “Welcome back” can be the most comforting words.

     Truth is another vital component of recovery and healing. After years of being ignored and despised, it is deeply empowering for survivors to have their version of history accepted – hence the importance of truth commissions. Commemoration is also essential. In Nepal, family members have used street theater, murals and even embroidery to remember their dead.

     Finally, there is money. The Maoist rebellion took root in central Nepal among the Tharu, one of the most marginalized minorities in Nepal. Most Tharu conflict survivors depend on agriculture, and losing a breadwinner to the conflict drove them deep into poverty from which many have still not recovered. For them, reparations are essential to recovery.

     All of this helps to put legal accountability into perspective. Ram Bhandari said that it would be gratifying to see the three former officials who were apparently behind his father’s death – now old and long retired – brought to justice. But it would also be hard to find evidence after so many years, and the search for accountability cannot be allowed to hold the rest of the package hostage: “We want to know the truth before we die.”

     It is hard to overstate the importance of this disagreement for human rights and peacebuilding. On a positive note, victims and survivors have played a key role in Nepal that will hopefully set a precedent for peace processes elsewhere. But their rift with human rights advocates also raises difficult questions. Which of these two stakeholders should take precedence when it comes to building peace? Whose voice should carry more weight in the event of a disagreement?

     Members of the Accountability Watch Committee in Nepal point out that legal accountability is a legitimate concern for society as a whole and not just for survivors. They are right, of course. They also plan to keep up the pressure, and I admire their resolve. But at the same time they are also professionals and need to listen to survivors, instead of presuming to act on their behalf.

     Strange though it may be, the human rights community in Nepal may need to reconcile its own differences before the country can close the book on a brutal war.

116. Conflict Survivors in Nepal Welcome “Historic” Agreement on Transitional Justice

     August 19, 2024 2:17 pm Leave a Comment

      

      

     

     Family members in Nepal hold a vigil in front of the number 1350, symbolizing the number of Nepalis who disappeared during the conflict

      

     Survivors of the Maoist rebellion which ravaged Nepal between 1996 and 2006 have welcomed a new law that will prosecute serious abuses committed by both sides during the conflict and offer reparations to victims and their families.

     The package was unanimously agreed on Wednesday (August 14) by Nepal’s federal parliament after months of negotiations between the three main political parties, breaking an 18-year deadlock in the search for transitional justice.

     The law attempts to ensure legal accountability while achieving national consensus – a challenge that has faced many nations making the transition from war to peace. Several provisions are modeled on the truth commission in South Africa that was set up after the end of apartheid, and the peace agreement that ended the civil war in Colombia.

     The new Nepali law establishes four categories of “serious violations of human rights” – rape, disappearances, summary killings and torture. But the law also allows for a 75% reduction in punishment for three of the offenses. Rape will be fully prosecuted.

     The law also revives two commissions to investigate disappearances and promote truth and reconciliation. Another major provision will set up a fund to offer reparations to survivors from both sides, including families of security personnel killed during the conflict.

     Passage of the law has been welcomed by the US, the UN and the European Union, all of which had rejected previous transitional justice proposals from the Nepali government. Dean Thomspon, the US ambassador, posted on X: “Congratulations to the people of Nepal. This is a meaningful moment in Nepal’s journey to shaping its own peaceful, prosperous, resilient, and democratic future.”

     The law has also been praised by China and Switzerland. The Swiss government helped to broker the deal and funded two visits by Nepali officials to Colombia to study that country’s transition from war to peace.

     *

     Although the support of the international community is now assured, the new law appears to have deepened a rift between human rights advocates and survivors.

     Ram Bhandari, whose father disappeared during the conflict in December 2001 and who coordinates a national network of survivors and victims, described the new law as “historic and transformative” in a phone call from Kathmandu. “It addresses the needs of survivors and represents our views,” he said.

     Mr Bhandari met with political leaders to lobby for the law on the eve of the vote and recently appealed to the UN Security Council on behalf of missing persons in conflict. He has partnered with The Advocacy Project (AP) since 2015.

     However the new law was denounced by Accountability Watch Committee, a group of Nepali human rights advocates and lawyers with close ties to the International Commission of Jurists. A statement by the group said that the 75% reduction in sentences amounts to an amnesty and violates the principle that an independent judiciary should determine punishment.

     The statement also challenged the assumption that the voice of survivors should take priority over others: “It is essential to recognize that ensuring accountability for serious violations is not just a matter for conflict victims but a legitimate concern for the post-conflict society as a whole.”

     *

     The new law in Nepal rounds off one of the most successful peace processes of modern times.

     In addition to ending a brutal conflict that took thousands of lives and resulted in over 1,300 disappearances, the 2006 agreement integrated Maoist fighters into the army, restored democracy, ended the monarchy and laid the foundation for a new constitution. In the years since, Nepalis have voted for reconciliation by electing the Maoist leader Pushpa Kamal Dahal prime minister on three occasions.

     Transitional justice was supposed to be one of the main pillars of the 2006 agreement but has lagged far behind the politics. A 2014 law established the two commissions and proposed an amnesty for human rights violators, but the law was denounced by survivors, advocates, Western embassies and the UN as incompatible with international law. The Supreme Court of Nepal declared the law to be unconstitutional in 2015.

     Nonetheless the two commissions started work, triggering a major split over strategy between survivors and advocates. Survivors opted for “critical engagement” with the commissions even as they demanded accountability. But human rights advocates called for a boycott of the commissions and were supported by the UN and Western embassies. AP first reported on the disagreement in 2016.

     The new law attempts to thread the needle between principle and pragmatism. While there will be no amnesty for the serious violations, the maximum sentence will be capped at 6.25 years in jail – equivalent to 25% of the maximum term for murder under Nepali law – for all categories except rape.

     The decision over who to prosecute will be left to the two commissions, which will run for four years and make recommendations to the Attorney General. The ten members of the commissions will be selected by a committee led by a former Chief Justice.

     Lesser crimes will be dealt with under Nepali law and could well result in no action being taken. But victims will be allowed to seek reconciliation with their aggressors and appeal to the courts if they remain unsatisfied.

     When asked why he supports the legal compromise given that his own father disappeared, Mr Bhandari said it is highly unlikely that evidence could be found to prosecute his father’s killers at this late stage.

     “We cannot prolong the deadlock,” he said. “It’s been a long wait and survivors want to know the truth in their lifetime. As for those who killed my father, if they were to speak the truth I would forgive them.”

     Mr Bhandari also repeated an argument he has made many times: most survivors and families live far from Kathmandu in marginalized communities and need reparations, social recognition and the truth more than they need to see perpetrators brought to trial.

     *

     While savoring passage of the new law, Mr Bhandari predicted a lively debate ahead over reparations and the appointment of new members to the two commissions.

     Mr Bhandari’s network issued a statement on August 14 insisting that survivors must agree with the selection of commissioners.

     Survivors are also demanding that the reparations fund be “owned” by Nepal, although the UN is also reported to be angling for control. Ultimately this decision may rest with donors that would be expected to contribute to the new fund. Many donors were disillusioned by Nepal’s handling of billions of dollars of relief aid following the devastating 2015 earthquake.

     It remains to be seen whether the reconciliation provisions will satisfy survivors. The process will be determined by the new commission on Truth and Reconciliation and appears to be modeled on the South African Truth Commission, which allowed survivors to confront their tormentors in person. While the hearings were deeply cathartic for South African society as a whole, some perpetrators ignored the subpoena to appear and victims often felt short-changed by a mere apology. Very few prosecutions resulted from the Commission’s work.

     Although Western governments have come out in favor of the new law in Nepal it is unclear whether advocates will seek to impede the process and whether international human rights organizations would back them if they did.

     The Thursday statement from Accountability Watch Committee pledged to continue the struggle and said that “efforts to address the serious legal flaws through further amendments of judicial interpretation will once again be necessary.”

     The Nepal government is taking no chances and is said to be planning a major address to the September meeting of the UN General Assembly.

     Mr Bhandari said that survivors may also consult influential human rights experts such as Bernard Duhaime, a Canadian law professor who was recently appointed a special rapporteur on truth, justice and reparations by the UN.

117. Peacebuilding Programming in Perspective

     August 12, 2024 2:18 pm 1 Comment

     In my final few weeks in Kenya, CPI led its last field activity for the summer called “Holiday Exchange. At Holiday Exchange, the IlChamus and Pokot children who had attended the peace camp in June were reunited for another multi-day camp during the August (school) holiday.

     As a refresher, peace camp (held on the Pokot side) introduced children from the conflicting tribes and sparked friendship through light-hearted games and team building exercises. Additionally, their parents had the chance to interact across tribal boundaries (some for the first time) because of their children’s friendship. A continuation of peace camp, Holiday Exchange is designed to strengthen these connections through activities more directly focused on conflict resolution. It was held on the IlChamus side, which exemplifies the “exchange” element. 

     Holiday Exchange was eye-opening for me—for positive AND negative reasons. I’ll explain.

     CPI Deputy Director Monica Kinyua facilitated two powerful self-exploratory activities with the kids. In the first, they were asked to draw their family trees. In my opinion, the goal of this activity was for kids to explore their identity—their role in their family systems and their relationship with their family members. It was as much an exercise of individual expression as it was to recognize the similarities with their friends of the other tribe.
     

     The second activity explored peace and conflict— not necessarily in relation to the tribal tension, but as concepts. Because I am specifically fascinated by how this conflict affects members of society differently, I was curious to see how children perceive these concepts. In the first part of the activity, Monica spoke to the kids about the wide spectrum of emotions, explaining that joy, love, excitement, anger, and hurt are all equally valid. 

     

     Exploring identity through drawing family trees

     When she went on to talk about healthy vs. unhealthy ways to react to anger and hurt, the kids were enthralled. I predict that many children had never seen an alternative way to express these emotions besides acting violently. After, they were asked to draw depictions of conflict and peace. In some of their pictures of conflict, I saw the resemblance of guns. At that age, I’m not sure I knew what a gun looked like. This was one of the moments this summer which stopped me in my tracks and reminded me of the stark contrast between my privileged upbringing to that of these children.

     

     Pokot and IlChamus children excited to share their family trees

     Around 7am of the 3rd day of Holiday Exchange, I received a text in the CPI group chat that camp was delayed so we could sleep in… Immediately I knew something was off, since we never slept in. In the next few hours, I learned that there had been a cattle raid in the middle of the night which ended in two IlChamus fatalities. Though the raid occurred far from where the camp was held, CPI and community leadership swiftly decided that the children should return to their respective homes. We ended Holiday Exchange two days early.

     It was a solemn morning for all of us–solemn not only because of the fatalities but also because this was the first time in over a year that an incident had occurred. From my perspective, this does NOT mean that CPI’s peacebuilding progress is lost, or even that it has backtracked. It is important to remember that the perpetrators of most raids are not part of the communities whom CPI works with. Instead, they are nomadic “rogue warriors” who live separately from the rest. They are the small minority of (mainly Pokot) aggressors. 

     So, while this incident was tragic and disheartening, it also comes with a new opportunity for CPI. I would encourage CPI to find ways to identify and meet with these rogue warriors by leveraging the relationships they have with local chiefs, police, field monitors – anyone who has access to them. CPI may need to develop ingenuitive and specific programming to address the unique vulnerabilities of this group. However, with CPI’s strong track record and the immense esteem they have garnered from the Pokot and IlChamus, I am confident that CPI is up to the challenge.

118. “Resource Sharing is Possible”: Fora Outreach Workshop Part 3

     1:36 pm Leave a Comment

     There is much to recount about the fora peace workshops CPI conducted last month, so a third blogpost on the subject is necessary. As a refresher, the purpose of fora workshops is to give space for pastoralist communities (in this case the Pokot and IlChamus) to (1) discuss environmental and ecological challenges they face as pastoralists; (2) explore the impacts of climate change on conflict; and (3) brainstorm coping mechanisms and strategic solutions to mitigate and adapt to these realities. After speaking about the first two goals in previous blogs, this one will be dedicated to the third goal. 

     As described, the IlChamus live close to Lake Baringo, which is a key water source with surrounding pastureland. Despite the flooding of some pasture near the lake, IlChamus herders still benefit from living close to the water and are disincentivized to leave their area. The Pokot villages, on the other hand, range from 15-25km away from the lake. The Pokot villages located closer to the lake are on the “frontlines” and therefore more easily targeted by the IlChamus, while the villages further away, in the “interior,” are the main aggressors when they come to graze near the lake.

     

     “No man’s land” zoomed in

     “No man’s land” zoomed out

      

     Towards the end of the workshops, CPI asked the groups their ideas to collectively benefit from the lake’s water and pasture peacefully. To my pleasant surprise, all four communities (two IlChamus and two Pokot) presented the idea of sharing the resources. I heard the phrase “resource-sharing is possible” at each workshop.

     The proposed resource-sharing plan looks like this. Older, mentor-like figures (called “elders”) will monitor herders of the other tribe to disincentivize herders from stirring trouble. For example, Pokot herders from the “interior” (see Tangulbei on the northeast region in the right-side map) travel south towards Lake Baringo. When they reach the border of IlChamus territory, IlChamus elders will record the ID numbers of the Pokot herders as well as the number of cattle they came with. That way, if a raid begins, then the elders will be able to identify exactly who started the conflict, and if they stole cattle from IlChamus herders.
     

     In my opinion, this particular method of resource-sharing is a coping mechanism to adapt to conflict, not a strategic solution to mitigate it. While cross-border movement is major progress towards cooperation, the strict monitoring of herder movement indicates the strong level of mistrust between them without acting to alleviate it.
     

     However, a strategic solution to mitigate conflict would allow both tribes to benefit equally. One example of a strategic solution is that the two tribes commit to graze together peacefully in an area called “no man’s land.” This area, indicated by the red border in the above maps, is called “no man’s land” because neither Pokot nor IlChamus herders currently graze there. They both fear retribution from the other. So, if they agreed to share this area, then the groups would have equal stake in the land and hopefully benefit equally. This could lead to more trust and sustainable peace.

     It would be naive to think that the groups will let go of grievances through one coping mechanism or strategic solution—at least in its beginning stages. Developing trust will be a gradual process. However, it speaks volumes that all groups are open to resource-sharing. The need to share pasture and water is becoming inevitable because both are depleting. It is critical in order to avoid violent confrontation, and both tribes know the consequence of continued fighting. CPI will help guide this process as it unfolds.

119. WASH at Kulu Opal: Celebrations and the Handover Ceremony!

     August 1, 2024 9:23 am 1 Comment

     The last few weeks have been filled with celebrations and final touches to the toilets. During one of our last visits to Kulu Opal, we were treated to Music, Dance, and Drama (or “MDD”) performances by the students. Kulu Opal was hosting the sub-district competition, so we saw a few different schools perform. We later learned that Kulu Opal scored the highest in their sub-district!

      

     

     The students of Kulu Opal Primary School at the MDD competition.

      

     And finally, the toilet was complete and we had the handover ceremony. The ceremony was attended by the GDPU team and Board; Kulu Opal teachers, parents, PTA, and SMC; Gulu District officials; and the local tribal chief.

      

     

     The completed toilet!

      

     We had speeches from many of the guests, a performance by the Kulu Opal choir, and an official ribbon-cutting opening for the latrine, before sharing in a traditional lunch. It was a very joyous day and everyone expressed their gratitude for the program and the impact it will have on their students.

      

     

     The students performing at the handover ceremony.

      

     

     The GDPU Chairman, Head Teacher, District Education Office representative, and Secretary of Health and Education representative cutting the ribbon for the toilet.

      

     It was a great ending to the WASH program, my fellowship, and my time in Uganda.

      

     

     The completed toilet with the fresh coat of paint!

      

     

     The disability-accessible stance with handrails (left), one of the 4 regular stances (center), and the girls changing room (right).

      

     

     Everyone investigating the completed toilets.

      

     

     Emma and I celebrating the end of the project!

120. WASH at Kulu Opal: Monitoring and Menstrual Hygiene

     7:48 am 2 Comments

     As part of the WASH program, I supported the design and implementation of a monitoring and evaluation strategy for the six schools that GDPU has built toilets at in the past. Visiting these schools provided some context to how the WASH program has evolved, from building only 2 stances at Torchi Primary school, to building 5 stances with additional accommodations and providing resources and trainings at Kulu Opal.

      

     

     Visiting Awach Upper Primary School.

      

     

     A beautiful mango tree at Ogul Primary School.

      

     The schools we visited varied widely. The schools range in enrollment from 352 students to nearly 1400 and in government term budgets from 2.3 M UGX ($600) to 11 M UGX ($3,000). Some schools are a 10-minute drive from the center of Gulu City and some took almost 2 hours to reach. Some have received new classroom blocks or hygiene trainings from organizations like the Norwegian Refugee Council, USAID, Save the Children, and Africa Women Rising, and some have not been visited by the government or an NGO in years. Some schools have Head Teachers that are very cued into the challenges their girl students face, and some Head Teachers seemed afraid when we asked about how girls dispose of sanitary pads.

      

     

     Emma and I on our monitoring visits.

      

     The status of the building and facilities also varied, but many of the newer ones are in fairly good physical condition. The primary issues are related to broken doors, gutters, and handwashing tanks, but the walls and roofs are all intact. However, the cleanliness of the toilets ranged from generally mediocre to absolutely disgusting. Most latrines had feces on the floor and were covered in flies, even if the Head Teacher promised that they clean the toilets daily.

      

     

     Inspecting past GDPU projects.

      

     

     This was not the first or last time I saw a puddle of human feces (feces not pictured).

      

     This is in part because the schools may not have funding for soap and brushes to clean the toilets, but also due to basic neglect and disregard by the Head Teachers. The only trend I noticed in our monitoring trips is that if your school receives more government funding and/or your Head Teacher is a woman, your latrines are much cleaner.

      

     

     Emma and Joyce, the Head Teacher at Awach Central Primary School, who is an absolute rockstar.

      

     A challenge that Head Teachers often shared with us is that many girls do not attend school when they are on their periods. This can be attributed to the physical pain and symptoms of a period, but moreover to the lack of sanitary pads and abysmal condition of some of the toilets. I can only imagine the embarrassment girls must feel if they have to manage their periods without privacy or any way to clean themselves and how discouraging that would be from attending school.

     Currently, the girls toilets at Kulu Opal are mostly inoperable, have broken doors, and do not have space for girls to change. They also do not have an incinerator, so the girls drop used sanitary pads in the latrines, which make them incredibly difficult (if not impossible) to drain. GDPU has included changing rooms in their WASH projects since 2018, but the project at Kulu Opal will be the first GDPU effort to also include an incinerator for menstrual products.

      

     

     The incinerator at Kulu Opal. The concrete angled tube connects to the girls changing room.

      

     The incinerator is a brick structure used to burn used menstrual products. It is connected to the girls changing room through a durable, concrete-layered tube. When girls want to dispose of a sanitary pad, they can enter the changing room and throw the pad in the tube without being seen. The changing room also has a hole so that when girls use the space to clean themselves, the water can drain out of it.

      

     

     Emma inspecting the incinerator at Kulu Opal.

      

     This newest addition to the GDPU WASH package will provide girls a private, clean, safe space to care for themselves so they can feel more comfortable going to school every day of the month.

121. WASH at Kulu Opal: The 4 F’s

     7:39 am 1 Comment

     The Kulu Opal project is moving along well, as we are almost to the handover ceremony and the end of my time in Uganda. It seems like almost overnight, the latrine pit became a building with walls! Once the walls were constructed, the building truly started coming together.

      

     

     Kulu Opal project progress on July 16.

      

     

     Kulu Opal project progress on July 19.

      

     

     Kulu Opal project progress on July 25.

      

     

     Kulu Opal project progress on July 27.

      

     As part of the WASH Program, GDPU offers two trainings to Kulu Opal: Hygiene and Sanitation Training for the students and a Disability Inclusion Training for teachers, the School Management Committee, and the Parent Teacher Association. Last week, we held the Hygiene and Sanitation Training, which evolved quickly from only P4-P7 students, to all P1-P7 students outside by the central mango tree on the campus, to however many students we could fit in two classrooms because it started thunderstorming.

      

     

     The original training set-up under a tree.

      

     Emma, Joe, and Daniel led the trainings in Acholi. I helped a little at the end in English, which Daniel kindly translated for me. The training covered what a germ is, the importance of proper sanitation and hygiene, and handwashing demonstrations. They spoke about the “Four F’s” (Fingers, Flies, Food, Feces) of how germs can spread, which is core curriculum in Uganda public schools.

      

     

     The new training set-up, with as many students a possible squeezed into a classroom.

      

     The GDPU team and Head Teacher did a great job engaging the students and making the demonstrations lighthearted – the Head Teacher even mimicked how not to use toilet paper, which made everyone giggle for the rest of the day. I was super impressed by how attentive the students were, especially since it was right before lunch!

      

     

     Daniel and Emma leading one classroom of learners at the WASH training.

      

     Even though this training was in good faith, I can’t help but wonder how impactful it is. We can encourage students to change behaviors and tell them washing their hands with soap is important, but in reality, the school does not have adequate funds to buy soap on a regular basis and most students likely do not have soap at home. This is a core challenge of meaningful development – not just behavioral change or resource provision, but efforts that can be financially and logistically sustained in communities long after the funding and support is gone.

122. Meet GDPU: “GDPU is a very committed organization.” – Emma Ajok

     7:32 am 2 Comments

     This is an article in a series profiling staff at GDPU, the Gulu disability community, and those who call northern Uganda home. All contents of this article have been approved and shared with the permission of Emma.

     Emma Ajok has worked at GDPU since 2015. She currently serves as the Safeguarding Focal Point Person and the Water, Sanitation, and Hygiene (WASH) Program Manager. She has an degree in Community-Based Rehabilitation from Kyambogo University and hopes to pursue a career in safeguarding and child protection. I have been lucky to get to know Emma well through our long trips out to Kulu Opal and other schools in the district. She has welcomed me warmly to Gulu and Uganda, whether that’s sharing new food like jackfruit, teaching me how open groundnuts correctly, or helping correct my terrible attempts at speaking Acholi. Emma is proud to call Gulu home and lives here with her son, Josh.

      

     

     Emma Ajok of GDPU

      

     How did you start working at GDPU?

     I started working here as a volunteer. I worked on a project for facilitating parents of children with cerebral palsy. I was training them on how to take care of children with cerebral palsy, models like communication, positioning, feeding, toileting.

     It was something that I was interested to do because during my internship, I realized that children with disabilities are being locked inside, especially those ones with cerebral palsy. You find the parents tied them inside or even put a padlock on. And they got to do their daily business.

     I became concerned. I wished I could do something for these children. So when GDPU gave me the opportunity, I was so excited. Because I knew I would at least make changes, talk to the families. That’s how I got connected to GDPU.

     Where did you do your internship that you mentioned?

     I did my internship at the local government, at Layibi, one of the divisions in Gulu [District]. There, I was put on a Community-Based Department. Well, we would move to the field with the CDO [Community Development Office]. He would show us where our persons with disability lives, what they do.

     How did you first hear about GDPU?

     I heard about it from a lady called Florence. She was already here, participating in one of the wheelchair projects. She does sports.

     So when I went for my internship, she was like, “I want you to come. I pray to God that you come and work at GDPU.” And I was like, “What is GDPU?” And she was like, “It’s an office for persons with disability. You just need to come and visit.. after you’re done with school, you come and visit.”

     What is your role at GDPU?

     I’m working as the Safeguarding Focal Point Person. It’s someone who makes sure that GDPU is an organization that respects the rights of persons with disability.

     I carry out training of staff, volunteers, interns. I make sure that they know what is in our policy on safeguarding because it’s important that they all have the knowledge on safeguarding. Safeguarding is all about ensuring that GDPUs programs and projects don’t [cause] harm to our beneficials. For example, we need to look at the project design, the timing, the meeting venue… carrying out risk assessment when you carry out an activity so that we don’t expose our beneficiaries to risk.

     I am also the WASH Project Manager. I’m managing one of the projects that is being supported by the Advocacy Project. I joined the project five years ago. Every year we install accessible, drainable pit latrines at one of the primary school that is being directed by the DEO [District Education Officer]. We make sure that the school is inclusive. We train teachers on inclusion and how they should do that classroom settings. We also conduct hygiene training to make sure that toilets are clean and there are enough brushes, toilet paper, liquid soap.

     You’ve been at GDPU for 9, almost 10 years now. What work have you been proudest of here?

     I think I feel so good since I came here. I worked on different projects. One that I did not talk about is V-Plus. It’s a skills training. We recruit youth with disabilities to come and study different skills, like sweater knitting, design and decorations, motorcycle repair, electronics repair.

     I feel excited when I go to do follow-up and they’re doing something, they’re earning a living. They’re no longer being discriminated in the community. It makes me so proud.

     And also on the WASH project, I think I feel so good when I go to school where we’ve installed of the toilet and the number of children with disabilities or the enrollment has increased because of the package that we put. It also makes me very proud. If I see that they’re taking good care of the toilet, it gives me more energy to advocate for more schools.

     How did you become passionate about working with people with disabilities?

     I think when I was applying to university, even selecting the course that I did, I already had the passion. Because I remember someone told me “The course that you’re going for – it has sign language, it has braille… you’ll be supporting the vulnerable groups.” I decided yes, I am ready for this.

     How did you decide on that course of study?

     In Uganda, in Gulu, we had a long period of insurgency, the LRA war. During that period, many people were affected. People got a lot of disabilities. Even my own relatives, others were killed. Others were left disabled – their nose, mouth were cut off. So during that period, I was like, “if there is anything that I would do, and if I can go and study something related to disability, I would be so grateful.”

     So when I finished my senior six, I was like, I think I want this course. It will expose me to [the field of disability] more. If I do it, if I have a degree in this, it can push me and I can do more for them. So that’s how I started.

     What do you hope GDPU accomplishes in the next 10 years?

     I think GDPU is an organization that is committed to advocate for the rights of persons with disability for them to access all that is required for them. GDPU is really working so hard to make sure that there is at least improvement in the lives of persons with disability through advocacy, doing a lot of things that can support them, providing assistive devices.

     I wish we would get more funding so that we are able to support the numbers of persons with disabilities in Gulu.

     If a donor showed up tomorrow and gave GDPU the equivalent of $1 million USD (about 4 billion Ugandan Shillings), how would you use it?

     There is a lot of need for persons with disabilities and I feel GDPU doesn’t have enough resources. I would think if there is money, we would provide enough assistive devices for persons with disabilities. Things like wheelchair, because they are very expensive.

     Some people cannot afford them. Actually all of them [cannot afford them]. And the projects that we have here doesn’t meet all their needs.

     Things like wheelchairs – you give this and the next year, the child is outgrown and needs another one. So if there is capacity, GDPU would be doing their best to give them assistive devices. Things like the hearing aids will have never given because we don’t have the resources. Even the crutches, the white canes, they’re all very expensive.

     What is something you wish people knew about GDPU?

     They should know that GDPU is a very committed organization for persons with disability and they are always ready to support. They’re transparent. They have an organized board. We are ready and very committed to do the work.

     Do you have any questions for me?

     When are you coming back to Uganda?

      

     

     Emma and I during a visit to Kulu Opal.

123. Kenyan Pastoralist Warriors: A Debunked “Single Story”

     July 29, 2024 12:39 pm Leave a Comment

     Nigerian novelist Chimamanda Adichie famously says in one of the twenty-five most popular TED talks of all time, the “single story… makes one story become the whole story.” Adichie states that a single narrative may not be untrue, but it is incomplete. This sentiment could not be more true of Pokot and IlChamus “warriors.”

     The studies I read about Kenyan pastoralist groups before my internship highlighted conflict, cattle raids, tribal competition, and mortality rates—ie, all negative themes. While I am sure there are research studies about peace among the groups as well, they apparently did not meet my algorithm. On a related note, at CPI we use strong rhetoric (ie “warriors”) to refer to herders who have participated in cattle raids. I think both of these factors contributed to my initial assumption that herders, on the whole, are violent. So, I came into the fora peace outreach workshops, which I’ve spoken about here and here, thinking the herders would talk or even boast about X and Y raid they participated in or plans to seek vengeance. 

     However, contrary to this general narrative of conflict and violence in the region—the majority of “warriors”  want peace. In our fora workshops, every single herder/warrior whom we spoke with said that they are ready to coexist peacefully with the other tribe. To be frank, I was shocked. This widely felt sentiment indicates that the communities are ready to work past grievances and distrust, though it is a gradual process. I also learned—again, contrary to the narrative of conflict and violence in the region—that the instigators of raids are not the herders in frontline villages that CPI works in. Instead, they are “rogue” warriors, who live far away from the Pokot villages. They instigate violence due to individual motivations, not on behalf of the Pokot community. It is both naive and inaccurate to stereotype an entire community as hostile. I have now learned this lesson.

     

     Chemken herder (Pokot) wants peace because during times of peace, “you won’t lose more friends”

     The Pokots’ shift towards peace is also being recognized on a national level. For the first time, the national government is recruiting Pokots to the National Police Reservists (NPR), the national police force. Formally, the Pokots were prohibited from joining NPR because of their collective image as aggressors. However, in lock-step with CPI peacebuilding programming, “reformed warriors” (as CPI says) are now given the opportunity to be peacekeepers. This important shift has a number of positive results. First, Pokots have an additional employment option as well as an incentive to “reform.” Second, they will be able to share information about signs of emerging incidents, as they are tapped into the Pokot network. Third, and perhaps most importantly, this will help continue to shift their image for the better.

124. WASH at Kulu Opal: Foundations and Floors

     3:18 am 2 Comments

     This is a well overdue update on construction efforts at Kulu Opal! Emma, other GDPU staff, and I visit the school twice a week to monitor construction. As soon as the pit was done, the Contractor and his team began lining the pit with bricks and concrete. They also started laying the foundation for stance walls and exterior building walls.

      

     

     The brick and concrete lining of the latrine pit and wall foundation.

      

     Then, the bricks in the pit were covered with a smooth layer of concrete and they built up the wall bases. You can see the construction crew in the pit in the photos below.

      

     

     The crew covering the pit and wall foundation with concrete.

      

     Once those were complete and dry, the crew covered the base with a slab of concrete, leaving latrine holes for each stance. The large hole on the left side of the photo below is the connection point to the pit so that it can be drained once it is full.

      

     

     The completed concrete slap with holes for each stance.

      

     Over the last month, Emma, I, the interns, and other GDPU staff have been hard at work making liquid soap. This soap will be given to Kulu Opal at the handover ceremony and is sold to past GDPU beneficiary schools at a reduced cost.

      

     

     Daniel, Crispus, and I mixing the ingredients for soap.

      

     

     Crispus and I packaging the soap into jerrycans and supervisor Emma looking on.

      

     Skim through the following photos below to see a summary of the construction progress! The next major step will be the wall and roof construction.

     

     Kulu Opal project progress on July 2.

      

     

     Kulu Opal project progress on July 4.

      

     

     Kulu Opal project progress on July 9.

125. Meet GDPU: “It’s something that comes from the heart.” – Daniel Nyeko and Marylyn Amony

     July 26, 2024 6:30 am 2 Comments

     This is an article in a series profiling staff at GDPU, the Gulu disability community, and those who call northern Uganda home. All contents of this article have been approved and shared with the permission of Daniel and Marylyn.

     Daniel talked about different music in our interview. Click here to listen to Burna Boy, Patoranking, and Shania Twain.

      

     

     Daniel and Marylyn teaching me to play Acholi cards during our lunch break.

      

     Daniel Comboni Nyeko and Marylyn Goretti Amony are summer interns at GDPU. They supports various programs at the Union. They will graduate from Kymbago University in 2025 with degrees in Community Development and Social Justice. After graduation, they both hope to find supporting the disability community. Daniel is incredibly hardworking and quickly became my omera matidi (little brother) here. He has been very kind to share music with me (a current favorite is Shania Twain’s “Don’t Be Stupid”). Marilyn is quieter but very funny, as I learned when she and Daniel taught me to play a local card game (similar to Uno but with extra rules) and she wouldn’t teach me all the rules so she could win! Daniel and Marilyn grew up in Gulu, but now call both Gulu and Kampala home.

      

     

     Daniel Nyeko of GDPU

      

     What are you studying at university and why did you chose it?

     I am studying community development and social justice. I chose it because I love to work with the community. I see that there are a lot of problems in communities in Africa. The biggest percentage of people in Africa are poor and really suffering from things like disability. Due to several things like conflicts and stuff like that. And they also need people to support them. And very few people can be willing to work with such kind of people. So I decided [on my degree program] so that I can also be among the helpers.

     What are you going to do when the internship ends?

     I’ll have to look for a job.

     What do you want to do?

     Same thing – support people with disabilities. If possible, I wish I could go and start my own foundation to deal with people with disabilities.

     Is there anything specific you would want your foundation to do?

     It should be general – there should be a business section, a training section, skills… everything. So long as it is something that can make these people have courage in life.

     Would you want that to be here or in Kampala?

     Gulu. It is better. The North is the most affected area with disability in Uganda because of a lot of things… because there was a war here. The LRA war. So it affected people.

     We found a lady from Nwoya district. She was telling us that she got a hearing impairment because of the war. There was a war battle – there was a bomb that passed her. Boom! It affected her hearing on the left. She couldn’t hear anything because it was too near. So I see that northern Uganda is the most affected in the whole of Uganda.

     How did you first hear about GDPU?

     From school. I knew before that there is a union that supports people with disabilities. And I didn’t know that many people that there were people who were disabled.

     As an intern, what are your responsibilities?

     For me, most of the time I interact with disabled people. I worked with peer mentors. I had a business training with them. And there was some Street Business Training with Emma.

     What work have you been proudest of at GDPU?

     Changing the lives of kids living with disabilities. [For example,] we went to the field in Nwoya District and did some counseling… We were teaching them about [support for] gender-based violence.

     Why are you passionate about working with people with disabilities?

     Humanity. It is general knowledge – you need to help another person. If you really feel pain for someone else, and you really want to love that person again, then you can just go to that line without anyone telling you. No one should come and tell you. You go and help people – poor people, people with disabilities… It’s something that comes from the heart.

     What do you like to do outside of work? Do you listen to music?

     Too much. My favorite singer is Burna Boy from Nigeria. He’s very good. And Patoranking from Nigeria. It’s Afropop music.

      

     

     Marylyn Amony of GDPU

     What are you studying at university?

     I am studying community development and social justice.

     How did you first hear about GDPU?

     I heard about GDPU earlier in my primary level since I was studying nearby.

     As an intern, what are your responsibilities?

     I counsel and train people with disabilities. I also go to field activities and support the provision of assistive devices to people with disabilities. I am learning sign language and attend different skills training as well.

     What type of career do you want to have?

     I want to be a community development officer and work with disabled persons and disability organizations.

     Why are you passionate about working with people with disabilities?

     Because I am also disabled and because of the love I have for people with disabilities.

126. Conflict Survivors are Building Community for Themselves

     July 23, 2024 5:27 am 2 Comments

     Trigger Warning: This blog discusses serious topics, including war, sexual violence, and captivity. If those topics are especially disturbing to you, please skip reading this blog!

     Additionally, this blog highlights a new tailoring start-up that Women in Action for Women is beginning for its members. Please consider donating to the project on GlobalGiving to help them reach their goal.

     ---

      

     Women in Action for Women (WAW) is an organization based in Northern Uganda that supports women survivors of the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) conflict. Their intent is to empower women with the skills to uplift themselves, their families, and their communities through business skills and vocational training. The LRA was a rebel movement in Uganda from 1987 to 2006, which abducted approximately 50,000 children (although numbers vary significantly based on the source). Today, there are over 3,000 female survivors of the LRA conflict in Northern Uganda – 95% of which are single mothers. Returning to life after the abductions has not been easy. Many survivors did not finish secondary school and faced social exclusion once escaping the LRA, left with few ways to support themselves.

     WAW was founded by Victoria Nyanyjura, a survivor herself, who has gone on to attend university in Kampala and Notre Dame and work for the United Nations. She always has a twinkle in her eye when she talks and is clearly very passionate about the work she does. WAW is also supported by Florence Nakito, a current intern who will be graduating from Makerere University in Kampala in the spring. She and I have become fast friends, as we both arrived in Gulu around the same time without knowing anyone!

      

     

     Victoria and I together and visiting the WAW office in Gulu.

      

     Advocacy Project has a history of partnering with WAW on various embroidery and quilting projects. Bobbi of the Advocacy Project Board visited Uganda a few years ago to teach the women to embroider. Since then, the women have created multiple quilts that visualize their personal stories from the war and from COVID-19.

      

     

     Two women of WAW holding their embroidery blocks for the War Survivors Quilt.

      

     The current project is a nature-themed sister artists effort. The members of WAW embroider butterflies and birds and are paid for their products. These embroideries are shared with “sister artists” in North America who create quilts with the embroidery blocks. The quilts are put up for auction and all proceeds are shared back with WAW.

     The first time I met with WAW, we enjoyed a traditional Ugandan meal together (beans, meat, rice, and posho). I gave them the colorful threads I had brought with me from the States and collected some of the embroideries they had created. I will collect even more embroideries before I leave and bring them back to the U.S. to be distributed to the sister artists. Each woman uses a unique style to the patterns and colors in their embroideries. They also add a signature (you can see the letters or symbols in the pictures below) to indicate which blocks are theirs.

      

     

     Some of the embroidered birds and butterflies.

      

     I have been lucky to meet with Victoria, Florence, and the members of WAW a few times since arriving in Gulu and have listened to some of their stories from captivity (or “going abroad” as they call it, because they were all taken to South Sudan). These women endured starvation, rape, sexual abuse, and forced marriages and childbirth, often before the age of 15. Many of them have visible scars on their heads, arms, and chest from their time in captivity. One woman shared how they would be forced to follow a commander to the next town that was getting ransacked to make food for the soldiers and new recruits, often without food, water, or any instruction for how long they would be walking. They have also talked some about the challenges of repatriating and starting anew in their communities that look very different from when they left. You can read more about Victoria and the WAW members’ stories here.

     Unfortunately, their stories are not unique, as I’ve heard anecdotes of the war from countless others in Uganda. Multiple people have shared that when growing up in Gulu, they would sleep in a different part of town at night that was safer, and then return to their homes in the morning. One person talked about how all four sons from their neighbor’s family were kidnapped, and years later only three returned. I’ve learned from GDPU that the Acholi sub-region has more people with disabilities than other areas in Uganda because of the war. These disabilities may have resulted directly from LRA brutalities, like forced amputations and PTSD, or indirectly, like mental disabilities caused by starvation and malnutrition and the generational impacts of trauma. While listening to these stories aches my heart, it is also a huge honor for people to feel comfortable sharing these personal and family histories with me.

      

     

     Me and some of the women of WAW with their embroideries.

      

     Organizations like WAW are driving recovery and support for survivors by not only providing them with tangible skills, but also by creating spaces where survivors can safely build community with others who are recovering in tandem. WAW is currently in the process of designing and implementing tailoring training program. This program would enable the women to expand their existing artisan skills into clothing repair and production and help them initiate a business to receive a direct source of income. Please consider donating to their start-up to support this incredible organization.

127. Experiences of Conscription: The inevitable burden of debt

     July 17, 2024 5:28 am 3 Comments

     My last couple of blog posts on conscription focused on people still in Myanmar, but it seems they are in the minority of young men remaining. Even they said all their friends had already left to cross the border.

     “Soe,” a young man who is now in Bangkok tells us that he wasn’t planning on leaving until all his friends came over to say goodbye to him on their way out. Seeing that he would be the only one left, leaving him both vulnerable and lonely, he decided to tag along. He says people at the checkpoints teased them about how everyone from their city seemed to be going to Thailand. While Soe jokes about this now, the checkpoints do make it extremely difficult to both travel within Myanmar and to get to the border.

     “Aye” is a young woman currently in Southern Shan State who works for PYO and is avoiding conscription and arrest for her activism. She says, “If you don’t know how to lie, you’ll quickly be arrested.” The day before our interview, she had traveled 30 miles to escape fighting and had to pass through 7 checkpoints, extending the trip to 1.5 nerve-wrecking hours.

     Aye and her colleague were prepared, having deleted all recordings of human rights abuses and replacing them with “sexy photos” on their camera. They also had a story for the guards, explaining that the cash they were carrying was for their sick grandmother’s funeral. Even with this preparation and plenty of practice lying, Aye said she was terrified the whole time.

     People pay a lot of money to avoid detention at these checkpoints – either in bribes or to smugglers who take routes through the jungle. Soe had to pay 1.2 million kyat to an agent to be smuggled across the border in a truck packed with others fleeing the war. Other smugglers take people by foot through the jungle, crossing in the wilderness where Thai security doesn’t bother patrolling.

     Smugglers often sell packages, allowing them to demand more money. Soe’s agent promised him and his friends documents and jobs upon arrival, but so far Soe has gone through 4 or 5 jobs, none of which have provided stability. He says they are often short-term jobs like painting or building, or the employers get nervous about employing undocumented workers and fire them.

     Soe says he’s also been scammed a couple of times because the employers say they’ll pay him after the job is done but never do. The employers know how desperate Burmese refugees are to earn money to pay back their travel debts and survive here, so they take advantage of their labor.

     When we interviewed Soe, he had just started a painting job and recieved half the payment in advance. He says this is a good sign, but he hasn’t been able to go to work for a few days because of police presence outside his building. Soe tells us encountering police in Bangkok is dangerous. Even traffic police can arrest and deport undocumented refugees. Soe tells us that he says a prayer every time he leaves his building.

     Some police ask for bribes, which is better than deportation, but it adds to the enormous debt these young people already have. Soe tells us about a friend who bumped into a police officer and had to pay 14,000 baht of the 15,000 he had on him.

     This debt isn’t an individual burden either. When these young people flee their home, their families and villages are often held accountable.

     “Khun,” another young man who escaped to Bangkok, tells us that he was targeted for conscription back in February because he had friends in a military-allied militia. When word reached the military that Khun was planning to escape, they showed up at his house, and his family pretended he had already left while he hid and escaped out the back. His family was told that they would have to pay 100,000 kyat within the year or suffer consequences of his escape.

     Khun tells us this price has gone up since he left. He knows another young man who escaped to Thailand whose family was told to pay 10 million kyat or his mother would be arrested.

     Aye describes this method of collective punishment being applied to entire villages when they don’t turn out enough men for conscription. If the military finds out that the village leader has been taking bribes and under-reporting the number of people eligible for conscription or that everyone has fled, they demand thousands of kyat from each household.

     With all these unpredictable fines, bribes, and costs, Soe tells us most people expect it will take 1-2 years to pay off their debts, and that’s with a job. Of those we interviewed in Thailand, he was the only one with a job, and even he wasn’t sure it would last more than two weeks.

     Average income of households in 2019 – Urban: 3-6 million kyat per year ($924 – 1850 USD); Rural: 0.5-1.5 million kyat per year ($160-500 USD)

     $1 USD = 3,248 kyat as of 17 July 2024

128. How the Revolution is Changing Attitudes Toward the LGBTQ+ Community

     4:10 am 4 Comments

     In my second blog, I wrote about how this revolution is different than previous conflicts in Myanmar – that the military coup has actually created stronger opposition and more solidarity among the people. In that blog I highlighted the relationships and empathy built between the ethnic majority and ethnic minorities. While there is very little written about it, this also seems to be the case for the LGBTQ+ community and resistance groups.

     Myanmar’s society is generally very conservative when it comes to gender and sexuality. These attitudes are attributed to Buddhism compounded with British colonial policies.

     When I spoke with “Hom,” a young trans man and activist living in Southern Shan State (profiled in my last blog), about his experience as a queer person in Myanmar, he told me about his childhood nickname: “The one even the monks make ashamed.”  The name hardly rolls off the tongue (at least not in English), which I find reflective of the extra lengths Hom’s community went to to humiliate him.

     As a child, during the military regime in the early 2000s, Hom felt intensely uncomfortable in girl’s clothing, so he dressed as a boy and kept his hair short. In response, he told us that at every opportunity – community gatherings and village events – the monks and other authority figures would take time to call him out on the loudspeaker, telling everyone that Hom was wrong and unnatural and that the community should be ashamed of him.

     During the democratic period in the 2010s, some progress was made regarding attitudes toward gender and sexuality, including allowing LGBTQ+ events and festivals, but little legislative progress was made (same-sex rape and rape of LGBTQ+ people are still not criminalized, for example). And since the 2021 coup, the military junta has once again demonized the LGBTQ+ community.

     Hom faces discrimination on a daily basis. A couple weeks ago he went to the market to buy a whole pig. Knowing that Hom is biologically female and in a relationship with a woman, the people in the market asked if the pig was to be their child since they couldn’t have children on their own.

     He also told me that when he has trouble lifting something heavy that one would expect a man to be capable of lifting, people ask if Hom is pregnant – both digging at his gender and relationship. He said they’re mostly framed as “jokes,” but the distress and hurt in Hom’s voice was clear as he told us these stories.

     As Hom shared these stories of discrimination, he emphasized that others in the LGBTQ+ community have it much worse. He is grateful not to be in prison for his activism and not to be a trans woman because, he said, it is much more dangerous for them.

     

     Many LGBTQ+ people have escaped to Thailand, the most LGBTQ-friendly country in SE Asia.
     Chiang Mai celebrated Pride all of June, and Burmese queer couples used the opportunity to get married here as an act of resistance against the junta.

     Ma Saw Han Nway Oo is a transgender activist and is among the 62% of LGBTQ+ activists arrested after protesting the coup. In this article she shares the horrors she went through as a trans woman in Mandalay’s notorious prisons, explaining how she was tortured and sexually assaulted when she refused to use masculine pronouns after her arrest.

     Despite the egregious treatment at the hands of the guards, Saw Han Nway Oo says the other prisoners treated her “very kindly,” showing solidarity as they faced a common enemy and as they saw how much more danger she experienced.

     This kind of solidarity and support for the LGBTQ+ cause has grown since the coup. The contribution of LGBTQ+ activists to the federal democracy movement and increased visibility of queer people putting their lives on the line for resistance groups has begun to shift attitudes.

     A woman from rural central Myanmar is quoted in a Burma News International article saying,  “in the rural areas people didn’t like LGBT before. Villagers thought that they were disgusting… that most people in same-sex relationships had AIDS. But when LGBT people joined the revolution, people started accepting them and working together with them. Now, they want to help them and encourage them.”

     This attitude was even depicted in the film Lose and Hope that I watched at the beginning of my fellowship. In the film about young Karenni resistance fighters, one of the characters’ stereotypical gayness provides comic relief for both the audience and characters. But he is also portrayed as an excellent shooter and valuable resistance fighter. At the end of the film, his grief for his best friend’s death is not mocked or even depicted as unrequited love but is instead used to show how much more motivated he is to win the revolution.

129. Meet GDPU: “I have the passion to see that someone’s life changes completely.” – Faruk Musema

     July 13, 2024 6:11 am 3 Comments

     This is an article in a series profiling staff at GDPU, the Gulu disability community, and those who call northern Uganda home. All contents of this article have been approved and shared with the permission of Faruk.

     Faruk Musema has worked at GDPU since 2014. He has served in many roles, as a Guidance Counselor, Monitoring & Evaluation Officer, Skills Training Center Lead, and now as the Project Coordinator. He has an undergraduate degree in Social Work and Community Development, focused in Disabilities, from Kyambogo University and a post-graduate degree in Community Development from Gulu University. He hopes to pursue a Masters in Development Studies in the future. Faruk is always smiling, singing, and/or dancing in the office, and in watching his interactions with persons with disabilities, it is clear that this work is really fulfilling to him. Faruk grew up in Onang Village in the wider Gulu District, but Gulu City is where he calls home. He currently lives in Gulu with his wife, Sharon, and their two kids. In addition to working at GDPU, Faruk founded and is the director of Ability Sports Africa, the only organization in Uganda that provides sports programs for persons with disabilities.

     In this interview, Faruk speaks about music videos that students have made at GDPU. You can view one of the music videos here.

     

     Faruk Musema of GDPU

      

     How did you first hear about GDPU?

     When I was at university, I gained interest in disabilities when I took a Kyambogo disability course. I started checking which areas or which organizations within my locality work with persons with disabilities. So, I got to [learn] more about GDPU in 2010.

     I met one of my friends [at GDPU]. He’s called Charles. I studied with him in high school. He’s a victim of landmine; he was amputated completely [from below the waist]. When I met him here, he played wheelchair basketball. So, I wanted to play with them and I gained more interest in their organization.

     But I did not think of working here. When I completed university in 2013, I applied for a job with VSO. Then they posted me here – I found myself at GDPU. It was a very, very good thing that happened to my life.

     What is your role at GDPU?

     So [when I started] my job title was a Guidance Counselor. I [had] been supporting our youths with disabilities on psychosocial support, guidance and counseling, group counseling… and all other kind of support that can help our youths with disability to cope up with the stress and the trauma they had. I worked with mental health, reproductive health, and other institutions to ensure that if I don’t have knowledge in this area, I can refer these youths to get services from those who can best support.

     I was also leading the skills training center here. I was the principal of the center, Guidance Counselor, and also the Monitoring and Evaluation Officer.  I couldn’t leave the place at night because I need to ensure the safety of our youths. There are other youths who are a little bit bigger, there are others who are young… Back then we never had matron and patron. So, if everyone goes out of this office, I needed to stay to ensure that they are well. If there is no issue, then I leave.*

     Right now I’m working as a Project Coordinator. I coordinate two projects. One is the V-PLUS (“Vocational Plus”). The “plus” component is the music, the follow-up support – these different tailor-made trainings that we are offering to our youths – because it is now something beyond the vocational training. The project is supporting 115 youths with disabilities in Gulu, Amuru, Omoro, and Nwoya Districts. We follow up on them on a monthly basis. We go and check on businesses that are running, the challenges that they are facing, and tailor trainings based on the gaps.

     We have brought in a new concept of peer mentors. We wanted the peers who were successful beneficiaries to take the lead in supporting their peers who are still struggling. So, we are training them. We are building their capacities. We have a total of 12 peer mentors. And they are coming from all the districts. They will be helping us in mobilizing and following up on the youths. We train [the peer mentors] and we want the peers to train the other ones so that it becomes easier for them to co-exist. Because when you hear something from someone whom you are in the same age group, it becomes easier for you to work, to communicate, and interact.

     The second project is called Viva La Visa. It is more of the music program – music for social change. The donor for that program is Viva La Visa UK… During our skills training program, youths with disabilities showed interest in singing, in music. But we did not have that opportunity to have those kind of [trainings]. So, one time, I gave them money. I told them, “You go and make the music. You go to one of the studios. You go and record. I want to hear that music.” Then, they went and recorded.

     In two days, they came with the music. It was a very nice song. The song was about how we, people with disability, we are also human. It had a very strong message. So, I [thought], “Why don’t I record this song?” I made the video locally. Then I put it on YouTube and share also with those of Mac, the donor of V-PLUS. They shared it with their friends and that is how Viva [La Visa] got interested.

     You’ve been at GDPU for 10 years now. What work have you been proudest of here?

     One is ensuring that the skills training program is running. The first skills training program ended in 2015. But I kept on pushing it. And it is something that has made the center more vibrant because the identity of GDPU is now skills training for youths. Everyone knows when they hear about GDPU, they think of skill development for youths. That is something that makes me really proud of what I’ve put in place.

     Secondly, sports for persons with disabilities. I’m happy to see that a number of our youths have now got an opportunity to travel outside Uganda to represent the country – like Brenda. I introduced Brenda in athletics in 2018. And from there she started gaining slowly, slowly. Right now she’s a Paralympian. In August she’ll be going to Paris to represent Uganda.

     And that makes me also happy to see that. These youths, they have gained esteem. They feel proud of themselves. They are confident. When I go to the market, I get to see all my beneficiaries. They are working. And all this, they give it back. And I feel happy when they talk about it.

     Most people [work on] projects because of money. They don’t come because of the passion. So the difference I might be having [compared to] many of the people is that for me I have the passion to work, to do and deliver, to see that someone’s life has changed or changes completely. I have that in me.

     How did you become passionate about working with people with disabilities?

     Way back when I was young, I had a friend of mine called Saidi. Saidi is a person with physical disability. He has been very close to me. But when we used to go to school, [my friends and I] would abuse him, sing songs about his disability, all these things. But there’s a time I sat with him, he was telling me, “I feel I don’t like even being me and because people talk about my disability.” That is when my mindset started changing.

     The expression on his face was something that made me feel that, “Okay, we have been doing something wrong to this guy.” He dropped out of school because of us. But we stayed close and lived in the same blocks [of housing]. I started engaging with him, encouraging him. But as a young child, I did not think much of the support that I’ve been giving him.

     So when I joined Senior One (equivalent of 8^th grade in the United States), that is when I met Charles. His disability again gave me a lot of pity. I related it to Charles, Saidi, and I decided I need to do something in this line [of work] to ensure that I support persons with disabilities. I support people with disabilities so that they can also live a dignified life. They inspired me.

     What do you hope GDPU accomplishes in the next ten years?

     GDPU is an umbrella organization for persons with disabilities. And this one started way back and it has been [operating] during the war time. It has been serving Gulu, Omoro, all these districts that were part of Gulu [District]. GDPU is one of the strongest organizations for persons with disabilities in Uganda. It follows NUDIPU, the national union. We get our own donors, we get our own support. But when you compare us with all these other NGOs, OPDs (organizations for persons with disabilities) in different districts, most of them they depend on the national union. And those that are within Gulu District depend on us. Our projects target youth from [other districts] and bring them here, or we give support directly to them.

     We [should] register as an NGO organization that can work in more than five districts. Right now, GDPU is operating on CBO (community-based organization) registration status, which is not something that I really desire.

     So, my vision for the organization is to go regional – we become an umbrella for the northern region. We are very big. There are other small, small organizations that are being now created that are [in competition with] GDPU… All these organizations for persons with disabilities should subscribe to GDPU. We will build a very strong network among persons with disabilities in the region.

     It will become easier for us to channel support based on needs. Right now, projects are concentrated in a specific area… We have left out the hard-to-reach districts, like Omoro District – they have bad facilities and they have the highest number of persons with disabilities. If we have a [regional GDPU] system, we can understand where the challenges are, we compare with other [challenges], then we support them. It would become easier for us to balance our support based on the needs.

     If a donor showed up tomorrow and gave GDPU the equivalent of $1 million USD (about 4 billion Ugandan Shillings), how would you use it?

     One is forming that [organization] structure that has connection with all the districts within Northern Uganda. Then, while the structure is being formed, we’ll do a survey based on needs, checking on the gaps that are there, the challenges. From there, we’ll develop a [project] concept based on the problems identified in the different districts.

     I think that will help us support our people best. Because we don’t want to dictate. When money comes, people start dictating, “Oh, we need this, oh, we need to build bridges.” Yet, people’s needs are different. So, if survey is done, a concept is developed, and basing on that need, that is where money can be channeled. Then will need maybe 400 million or more. Then we will have a project based on what the community wants. The money is channeled there.

     I think that is how this money can be used. When big money comes like that, you’ll get confused and you start doing projects that have no impact. But if you do dialogue meetings and consultations with persons with disability in different communities, you can get their idea. You get what they want.

     What is something you wish people knew about GDPU?

     One thing is that GDPU, what I would tell people mostly is that GDPU is an organization that advocates for the rights of persons with disability. We want to see people with disability live a dignified life. And we have services that we offer to our people with disability so that they can live like other people within our communities.

     Is there anything we did not talk about that you would want people to know about you or your work?

     I did not talk about me going to India for training. The training that I went for gave birth to me starting Ability Sports. In 2019, I went for about seven, eight months to Kerala, India. I went there and studied more about organization management skills.

     They developed us on how to manage your organization as a founder. When you are going to start your organization, you are going to be the accountant, you are going to be the media personality… You have to know knowledge of how to build your website, update it, go to your Facebook page, you update it. You have to have some basic knowledge on how to shoot videos. They trained us on writing proposals, donor proposals, pitching. How can you pitch to this person in 30 seconds so that they understand more about what you want?

     So, we are trained all around and that is when I came and started [my organization]. But my organization was affected by COVID. I came back in December 2019 [from India]. Then COVID. So, it affected everything. But it is the same knowledge now I’m applying at GDPU.

     —

     *Note from Julia: Some students at GDPU live here during the school term in dormitories. The Matron (woman) sleeps at the school and monitor the students overnight, ensuring their safety. It is common for primary schools to have a boarding section attached to them, often for P7 levels. This was especially necessary during the conflict in Northern Uganda over the last 30 years.

130. Biodiversity Loss, Cattle Disease, and the Consequences: Fora Outreach Workshop Part 2

     July 12, 2024 9:26 am 4 Comments

     The landscape of Kiserian was beautiful—a stunning view of Lake Baringo and the surrounding mountains. The vegetation was green, tall, and abundant. Despite its beauty, we soon learned that these were weeds and poisonous for cattle. In fact, edible grass had stopped growing in several areas and has been replaced by leafy, poisonous weeds. When we go back to Kiserian later this month, I hope to find out the name (though it may not be in the local IlChamus language).

     This example of biodiversity loss (exacerbated by climate change) has had a drastic impact on cattle, which these pastoralists are dependent upon for their livelihoods. Herders reported that when cows eat these weeds, their milk becomes abnormal and tastes different. As a result, those who consume the milk may get sick. Furthermore, herders will have a difficult time selling this milk at the market.

     

     Looking out onto Lake Baringo from Kiserian

     
     In line with this change in biodiversity, herders of both tribes lamented over an overall decrease in pastureland. For example, Lake Baringo was previously located 5-6km away from the IlChamus’ residential area in Kiserian. This primary water source had complimented the adjacent pastureland, whereby cows could graze and drink water in without traveling a far distance.

     However, due to the Lake Baringo’s “rapid expansion” in 2019, ten square meters of pastureland has been washed over. While Lake Baringo has experienced periods of flooding for decades, it has doubled in area since 2010 and impacted 400,000 people. Climate change may be the largest contributor to lake expansion, while geologists also recognize additional causes such as land use changes that have “accelerated runoff and caused sediment to build up on lake bottoms.” As a result of the floods, IlChamus herders have had to take their animals to the mountainous areas to graze. This has led to confrontation and conflict with the Pokots, without stable conflict management measures in place.
     

     Cows are also contracting new diseases that herders haven’t seen before. We learned that these cattle diseases manifest in eye problems, skin issues, and weakening bones. In addition, cows are requiring more water, mating less frequently, and producing less milk and meat. (In the past, one cow could produce 10L but now only 1L). We can infer that consuming harmful weeds and being subject to higher temperatures are correlated with these abnormalities.
     

     In the past, herders were able to identify, treat, and manage diseases their cattle contracted. But we heard from the Pokot herders that this is now difficult. Herders may go to the veterinarian (when available and within distance) to get medicine, but this is costly and not guaranteed to alleviate illness.

     They expressed that animal health issues should be addressed at the county level government. Nonetheless, because the Pokot and IlChamus tribes are underrepresented in county and national government, economically marginalized, AND lack the knowledge needed to understand their rights, this isn’t happening.

     

     Young Pokot herders in colorful beads tell CPI about challenges facing their cows

     
     Now, allow me to reference back to my blog on CPI’s Resource Advocacy Workshops. As described, these workshops help marginalized communities to recognize their needs and develop a plan to address them with the county government. In the case of cattle diseases, the need is animal healthcare. Though in the grand scheme of things, what these communities require is government financial and infrastructural support—to mitigate the impacts of climate change, expand access to profitable jobs, and work towards political inclusion.

131. Experiences of Conscription: The mental toll of living in hiding

     July 11, 2024 9:54 pm 3 Comments

     “Hom” is a 23-year-old trans man who has stayed in Southern Shan State despite the constant fear of being picked up by officers to join the military. Hom’s anxiety is palpable as we speak on Zoom, even with his camera off to spare the limited electricity.

     He tells us that he has already had to flee the military and PNA (Pa-O National Army, allied with the military and conscripting on its behalf) twice. Hom explains that in his home village, he is well-known for his activism and is targeted by the military for both his work with PYO and conscription. When he escaped, he told his village he was going abroad to Thailand, but instead he moved to a smaller village with his wife. Hom says that this village is safer because he’s less recognized and the fighting is farther away.

     Still, Hom tells us wearily, he is constantly thinking about security, and he still attracts attention and scrutiny from his new neighbors. He presents as a man – a young man of fighting age. As a result, he says, people stop him to ask why he hasn’t been recruited by the military or, alternatively, joined a resistance militia (reinforcing the assumption that the binary choice is about who to fight for, not whether or not to fight). Meanwhile, the Burmese military – an extremely conservative and transphobic institution – does not recognize Hom as a man, so he is officially on the conscription list for women.

     Since women are not yet being conscripted in his area, this discrimination has, in a way, bought Hom time, but it has not lessened his concern. He could still be arrested and forcibly recruited while walking down the street. He tells us that when he goes shopping in the city, he wears a helmet and mask to keep people from reporting him. Even at home, he says with a note of distress, he is plagued with nightmares of being arrested in the middle of the night.

     He suspects women will be recruited in the next round, and I can hear his voice grow thick with emotion when he talks about how his wife will also be vulnerable to conscription then. She is one of the main reasons he has decided to stay in Myanmar instead of relocating to Thailand like his brother and many of his friends have done. Hom explains that his wife is not from Shan State, so she hasn’t been able to get a passport. And Hom quickly establishes that going anywhere without her is not an option.

     He has already made the heart-aching choice to cut ties with his brother and restrict contact with his parents. Hom tells us that he hasn’t even accepted his brother’s Facebook friend requestion because he’s worried about their communication being tracked.

     He does still speak with his father but has a strict protocol: Hom is always the one to initiate contact, preferably using a Thai phone number, and only at night. If his father is alone and at home, he’ll answer. Otherwise, he’ll ignore the call or run home to take it in private. Their biggest concern is that the others in Hom’s home village will ask questions and report that Hom is not abroad and can be arrested or conscripted.

     He also worries about how he’ll be treated if he is forced into the military. Hom says he hopes they’ll treat him like a man, but if they find out he’s trans he’ll likely be harassed. Hopefully not assaulted, he says, that’s more likely for trans women, who, he explains earnestly, face more prejudice and discrimination than himself.

     Despite all this, Hom tells us that he wants to go home, and I can hear his voice wobble with grief and exhaustion. He says he hopes the war will end soon, so he can make a life in his home village and finally sleep well again.

     As we begin to wrap up the interview, Hom jumps in again to share a final sentiment that has come up in several other interviews: there are others suffering much more right now, and supporting them and their fight for freedom is essential. He says helping others through activism makes him feel brave and gives him hope, even if it puts him in more danger.

     The name of the interviewee has been changed to preserve confidentiality.

     

     As Hom mentioned, others are worse off – some have fled to the jungle and are living in caves, which is increasingly dangerous and difficult now that the rainy season has started

     

     Others are learning to live with life-changing injuries from the landmines left behind after the fighting in places like Hom’s home village

132. Environmental Changes and Indigenous Indicators: Fora Outreach Workshop Part 1

     July 9, 2024 6:06 am 2 Comments

     In four days, we drove to four remote areas in Kiserian and Chepkalacha locations and met with four different IlChamus and Pokot communities. When I say “remote,” I do not exaggerate. Directed by CPI’s driver and logistics manager Francis, we maneuvered (way) off the beaten path, having to roll up the car windows to avoid getting punctured by branches. It didn’t seem like we had an exact destination, until seeing the area chief, reverend, or a few herders congregated together. Then we knew we had arrived. No Google Maps. No paper maps. And often no cell reception.

     Our purpose was to conduct “fora peace outreach workshops,” and we did so for over 200 herders, warriors, women, and elders. CPI’s fora workshops engage pastoralist communities in the bush (or, the fora) to discuss the environmental and ecological challenges they are facing; explore the impacts of climate change; and develop coping mechanisms and strategic solutions to mitigate and adapt to these realities. Unsurprisingly, reduced pastureland and decreasing water sources were key topics of discussion, which led to open dialogue about competition and conflict between the two neighboring tribes.

     In each workshop, we gathered in circles of over 50 men and women, with more men trickling into our group as the afternoon progressed. We asked about changes they have noticed in their environment and their cattle, beginning each question with “if” before “how.” This was to ensure that we were allowing individuals to speak for themselves without being pointed in one direction or another. For example, “If weather patterns have changed in the past 10-15 years, then how? If your cattle’s grazing patterns have changed over the past few years, then how? If water sources have changed, then how?” And critically, “how are you managing amidst these challenges?” 

     

     Two Pokot warriors sit under a tree in the fora

     The participants divided into small discussion groups and took turns sharing their insights. Both groups noted that rainfall patterns have “completely changed.” They can no longer depend on the typical rainy season, which lasted roughly from March through May. Where there used to be an equal distribution of water over the course of some weeks, now there is a deluge of rain for a few days, then stops. 

     I learned about indigenous methods that the IlChamus and Pokot have used in the past to predict climate shifts like rainfall or drought. The IlChamus community in Ltepes location provided particularly interesting observations. They said that some fifteen years ago, they could depend on rain when the moon moved from west to east, or there were strong winds from the northern side, or when lightening struck from the east. Additionally, they used to study stars to predict weather patterns, but that has become difficult since stars are less visible. Furthermore, they noted changes in bird migration. It used to be that birds’ movement to their area signaled that rain was coming. Now, because of the extreme heat, the birds aren’t coming as often.

     

     An IlChamus herder explains changing weather patterns to Hilary

     Learning about this indigenous knowledge was fascinating. This kind of information has to come directly from people with lived experience, and all the more exciting that I was there to listen. There is much more I have to share on our fora workshops including biodiversity loss and their consequences on cattle, so stay tuned!

133. WASH at Kulu Opal: Sweat Equity in Action

     July 8, 2024 5:27 am 3 Comments

     Before starting construction, GDPU held a series of meetings with the Head Teacher, construction Contractor, School Management Committee (SMC), and Parent Teacher Association (PTA) to discuss the project and answer questions. Importantly, the SMC and PTA mobilize parents and community members to dig the latrine pit for the project and monitor on-site progress. Gaining their approval and buy-in was vital to the project’s success.

      

     

     SMC and PTA members at our meeting

      

     This requirement reminds me a lot of the “sweat equity” vision employed by Habitat for Humanity – to drive ownership of a project by requiring active contributions from the community. The GDPU staff and I have talked a lot about the issues they see with various latrine projects in the District. Challenges include that the community vandalizes the toilet and abuses it on weekends and holidays. The school may let teachers and staff use it instead of students or are just not willing to engage in the maintenance required to keep the toilet operational (I’ll be speaking more to this in another blog on the monitoring of toilets in Gulu District).

      

     

     Emma speaking with the SMC Chair

      

     Communities need to be involved in the project throughout the design and implementation, so they truly find ownership in the care and maintenance of the latrine after the project handover. This aspect of GDPU’s WASH program design contributes directly towards the sustainability of the project.

     The SMC and PTA were eager to approve the project, grateful for GDPU and AP’s presence, and agreed to their responsibilities. As soon as the memorandum of agreement was signed among GDPU, the Head Teacher, the SMC, and the Contractor, the parents began digging!

      

     

     The Contractor, Head Teacher, and SMC identifying and measuring the final location of the latrine

      

     The pit will need to be 9 meters long, 2.5 meters wide, and 3 meters deep. Over the following two weeks, Emma and I visited Kulu Opal regularly to monitor progress and talk with the parents. In Panykworo in 2023, over 100 mothers and fathers showed up in shifts to help with digging, finishing the pit in a record 5 days. This time, it was a little more challenging to engage parents. But with the drive of the Head Teacher and SMC, a small group of dedicated fathers dug through the layers of rock and dirt to complete the pit.

      

     

     Parents digging the latrine pit at Kulu Opal

      

     Skim through the following photos below to see the progress! Now that the pit is complete, the Contractor and his team will take over and begin the construction of the latrine.

      

     

     Kulu Opal project progress on June 18

      

     

     Kulu Opal project progress on June 21

      

     

     Kulu Opal project progress on June 25

      

     

     Kulu Opal project progress on June 28

134. Finishing Emma’s Garden

     July 6, 2024 1:16 pm 1 Comment

      

     

     Stella, left and Emma discuss the new garden

      

     As I noted in an earlier blog, Emma is new to the composting program and her garden was not yet finished when we first visited her. Stella then worked with a local welder who was able to create a 3-tier shelf that would hang from a cement wall. The shelves originally came from the garden of Vena, another team member. Vena had to give them away because her landlord would not let her keep them.

     When we visited Emma’s yard again she was hard at work with the welder, and we all spent most of the day putting up Emma’s garden. The man nailed planks of wood together in a way that would keep the plastic tarp and soil in place. This way, the wood and plastic formed a long planter box along the cement wall.

     Before the seedlings were planted, Stella bought some horse manure which was mixed with the soil and put in the planter boxes. The manure provided moisture and Stella added a layer of hay which served as mulch and kept the soil moist. When we were finished, the wall was not only appealing to the eye but allowed Emma to plant spinach, onions and strawberries from Eunice’s garden along three shelves.

     Before mixing the soil and manure, we took a pitch fork and poked holes in the soil. These air pockets allowed the manure to better penetrate and moisten the soil.

     Stella is hopeful that with the addition of manure and mulch, Emma can increase production in her garden. Emma will then add water and Lishe-Grow from her compost bins to ensure that the soil remains rich and moist.

     Strange as it may seem after some of the worst floods in Nairobi’s history, water is scarce and expensive in the settlements. But as Emma’s experience shows, it is also absolutely essential for the success of many gardens. As a result, gardeners receive an extra $2 a month from the project to purchase water. Stella feels this is money well spent and after a tiring day with Emma I have to agree!

      

     

     Emma’s garden is already productive!

135. Irene: The struggle with landlords in Kibera

     July 3, 2024 1:05 pm 2 Comments

      

     

     Irene’s garden is struggling because of her landlord

      

     Irene is one of the most successful composters in Shield of Faith and she likes to grow lots of vegetables. A mother of three children, Irene has been with the program since the very beginning in 2021.

     Irene’s garden is typically very beautiful, but when we visited Stella and I both felt that the plants did not look well. The reason, said Irene, was that the landlord had put a new cement wall up where she normally kept her plants. She was then told to move the boxes where she was growing vegetables because the landlord felt that they were taking up too much space along the new wall. This forced Irene to move the planter boxes to the opposite wall, reducing the amount of sunlight they received. This hurt the plants, particularly the kale.

     Stella offered Irene boxes that were smaller and could be put along the cement wall. In our second visit to Irene, eight out of the 10 boxes were lined up along the wall, but Irene had been forced to remove the other two along with her previous boxes. Irene had also replaced all the dying vegetables with spinach, onion, and garlic. They looked healthy.

     Landlords and tiny spaces challenge all of the women in the program. The land in Kibera is not privately owned but rented out to landlords, who are wealthy individuals. They charge a high rent, make whatever changes they want and have veto power over any design changes.

     This creates obvious difficulties for the Shield of Faith composters and means that a successful garden can be taken down at any moment, just because the landlord says so. When this happens, the women can find themselves with even less space than before.

136. Coach Julia, Reporting for Duty

     3:52 am 6 Comments

     In addition to his role at GDPU, Faruk is the founder and director of Ability Sports Africa – the only non-profit in Uganda aimed at supporting youth with disabilities to play sports. Faruk invited me to volunteer with his organization, and every Sunday morning since I’ve spent at Pece Primary School helping coach the only girls team in the league.

     Girls face extra cultural, social, and safety barriers to play sports in Uganda. Girls are expected to contribute to household responsibilities, like fetching water, cooking, and caring for siblings, leaving them with less unburdened time than boys. It can still be social taboo for girls to play sports among some of the more traditional communities. Whereas boys can easily change into their uniforms in front of everyone, the girls have to use the latrines at the school. But there isn’t enough room for all of them, so many girls change in the open air between a wall and the bathroom stances. I’ve watched the boys often lurk closer and closer to the girls as they change (I now stand outside the latrines like a watchdog, staring down and telling off any boy who comes near).

     For these girls to even attend a soccer training is a minor miracle in itself.

     During my first Sunday with the team, “Director Faruk” introduced me and told the girls that he “brought them a woman coach from America.” The girls all looked curiously at this strange mzungu with a baseball hat in front of them. I was the only woman (and only white person) of all the coaches, volunteers, and parents present, adding to the rightful hesitancy. I helped lead the girls through warm ups, encouraged them to cheer for their teammates, and gave everyone supportive high fives. They are still learning positioning and how to pass, so the games look a bit like bees swarming to the ball.

      

     

     Football match at Pece Primary School

      

     After the game, the girls asked me a whole list of questions that they had probably been keeping inside for the last few hours. I’ve had some practice now fielding questions and have learned to respond in a way that is more aligned with the cadence of a Ugandan. The conversation went something like this:

     Where are you from? United States, on the other side. What state? Originally I’m from outside of New York City – one hour drive by car. It’s a small town, smaller than Gulu. Now I live in Washington D.C. where I go to university. Who is in your family? I have a mother, father, and brother. My brother is called Nicholas. Are you the first born or the follower? I am the first born and my brother follows me. How many years are you? I am 27. What do you study? I’m getting a master’s degree in development studies. But my university degree is in engineering. Why are you in Gulu? I am working for Gulu Disabled Persons Union for the summer with Director Faruk. How long are you in Uganda for? I’ve been here for a couple weeks. I will leave in August to go back to school. Why don’t you stay here forever? I have to go back to school! Can I touch your hair? Yes, that’s ok. Why is your hair like that? My hair is too slippery – it won’t braid like your mom’s hair. So, I put it in a ponytail like this.*

     And of course, I returned the favor:

     Do you go to school? Who is in your family? What do you want to be when you grow up? Lawyer, doctor for babies, doctor for animals, teacher, football coach. Who is your favorite football player? Messi. Ronaldo. Daka. Who is your favorite women’s football player? I don’t know. What do you mean? You don’t know one women’s football player?

     Women don’t play football.

     I paused and stared at the 10, very curious girls staring back at me. And it almost brought me to tears. I grew up admiring the soccer players of the United States Women’s National Team (USWNT); women who showed that being a girl means being strong. The USWNT uses their platform to fight for social justice. Their fight for equal pay has and will continue to positively impact other women athletes and women in any professional. The team has inspired girls and boys alike. And that’s just one team – there is a growing movement in the United Kingdom and Japan and Spain and Australia and Nigeria and Zambia to support their women athletes.

      

     

     USWNT Signing the Equal Pay Agreement in 2022 (CBS News)

      

     While I understood that having a WNT supported by your country’s federation is rare, I hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking that there must be so many places in the world where girls don’t even know that professional women soccer players exist. This gave some context to the comment that one girl wants to be a football coach when she grows up, not a player, because she doesn’t think a woman can be a professional football player.

     This summer has been a lesson in many things, one of which is unpacking new layers of my privilege. It is a privilege to have role models that are women athletes, and even more so to have these role models look like you. But at a baseline, it is a privilege to just know that these role models exist.

     Back to my conversation with my team:

     Yes, yes there are professional women’s football players! There are so many of them! There are leagues all across the world for professional teams and there’s a Women’s World Cup. And there are players not just from the other side – from Africa, too.

     I quickly pulled up pictures on my phone of professional African players I knew of in the National Women’s Soccer League (NWSL) in the United States. I showed them Barbra Banda, a forward from Zambia on the Orlando City Pride who is arguably the best striker in NWSL right now. I showed them Temwa Chawinga, a Malawian player on the Kansas City Current whose team is at the top of the NWSL table. I showed them a picture of the Washington Spirit, the DC NWSL team, who have three superstar strikers in Trinity Rodman, Croix Bethune, and Ouleymata Sarr; three Black women with hair in braids, braids that are probably similar to the mothers and aunties of the girls on our Gulu soccer team.

      

     

     Temwa Chawinga playing for the Kansas City Current (Pro Soccer Wire)

      

     And in that moment, I unlocked a whole new privilege: to watch the moment someone’s world becomes wider; to watch young, Black, African girls who love football find new role models who look like them. Spending time with this team has and will continue to be one of the most impactful experiences of my time in Gulu.

     —

     * The “other side” is a phrase used to denote distance. It is not akin to the connotations of “the other side of the tracks” that we have in the United States. It could refer to the other side of town, the other side of the district, or somewhere outside of Africa.

     The idea of “following” and “first born” are used to describe sibling order. If you are the oldest sibling, you say that you are the “first born” and other siblings “follow you.” If you are a younger sibling, you say that you “follow” your older sibling or are the “follower”.

     Many people, adults and children alike, are fascinated with my hair. It makes sense – my hair is light brown and straight as a pin. People often ask me why it’s not in tight braids or twists common for adult women in Uganda, and I have to explain that my hair won’t hold that shape.

137. Vena’s Garden

     July 1, 2024 12:53 pm 2 Comments

      

     

     Stella and Vena inspect Vena’s garden

      

     Vena and her husband live with their three children in a small house in a cramped compound, along with a score of other families. There is almost no space, and yet Vena – who is one of Stella’s oldest friends in Shield of Faith – has managed to carve out enough for a kitchen garden in between the houses in a common space that is shared with other families.

     

     Vena’s garden hangs from a shared wall

     The garden is near an open sewer where families empty their toilets and water after washing clothes. Stella and Vena have attached rows of recycled plastic jerry cans and tower gardens (which featured in our movie) to try to keep the garden from these contaminated areas and they have served Vena well in the past. Sadly, many of the shelves broke during the fierce flooding earlier this year which forced Vena to put the pots on the ground, close to the open sewer.

     I was concerned to see the strawberries being grown next to the sewer due to the high risk of contamination. When I expressed my concern to Stella, she explained that part of the project’s mission is to teach hygiene and safe gardening practices to women. “The project aims to help women feed themselves safely, as well as save money each month.”

     She continued that once someone can feed her family she does not have to worry about where their next meal will come from. At that point you can move to hygiene and safe food practices: “We want to help these women and their families meet their basic needs, and then focus on learning safe practices.”

138. Odisha’s Spiritual Heritage – A Women’s Festival, a Long Weekend, and a Day at the Beach

     June 27, 2024 5:21 am 3 Comments

     Since returning from the field, we have been hard at work in Bhubaneswar. Between building a new website, writing funding proposals to support JRP’s malaria prevention and control work, processing data gathered in Daspalla, building a greater social media presence, meeting with potential donors, and contending with a financial audit, there is more than enough to keep us busy.

     Fortunately, we have made significant progress in the last two weeks! JRP’s old website was 5 years out of date and nearly impossible to edit because it was constructed using obsolete, proprietary software. While there remains much to do, the new website will be clean, publicize JRP’s most recent projects, and have functional links that allow visitors to easily navigate the site, donate, send messages to JRP staff, or inquire about volunteer opportunities.

     

      

     Speaking of social media, JRP is already quite proficient. That being said, it never hurts to be more organized. The combined malaria prevention and control project in the Chandaka Forest region and Neem Oil startup in the Daspalla tribal region are currently JRP’s most active projects, and we wanted to ensure that people are kept informed, especially given that the website lacks any information about this significant body of work. Now, while we occasionally miss a post, we have a social media schedule updated weekly in Google Drive. The most recent posts follow the early stages of the neem oil startup, but the schedule can ultimately be used to share updates about any of JRP’s projects.

     Aside from office work, we also had several days off in the last two weeks due to the three-day Raja Festival. While not at work, I took advantage of the free time to explore Odisha’s cultural and spiritual heritage. Although not religious myself, I nonetheless take great interest in religion and regional traditions. In fact, prior to enrolling in graduate school, I completed a Watson Fellowship titled “Jewish Persistence in the Periphery of the Diaspora,” during which I delved into the intricacies of Jewish life in remote communities in diverse locales ranging from the Zimbabwean bush to desert villages in Uzbekistan.

     The Raja festival, also known as Raja Sankranti, is a vibrant, three-day celebration unique to Odisha. Held in early June at the onset of the monsoon season, this festival honors the intrinsic connection between the fertility of the earth and that of women. During the holiday, women adorn themselves in new clothing and jewelry while men take responsibility for household chores. Agricultural activities are also paused, reflecting the belief that Mother Nature needs time to rejuvenate for the coming growing season. Sadly, I didn’t have the opportunity to experience the festival on an intimate level as it is most visible in rural areas and family homes. However, during a Friday visit to the Udayagiri and Khandagiri caves, I stumbled upon a public celebration. I witnessed women relaxing on the characteristic swings, tried special sweets like Podha Pitha made of fermented rice and coconut, and even met Aparajita Sarangi, an MP for Bhubaneswar from the BJP, who gave me a gift of betel nut.

     

     

      

     The bulk of my holiday was spent learning about Odisha’s rich cultural and religious heritage. Today, the vast majority of the state’s population is Hindu, but there are countless iconic Buddhist and Jain monuments located throughout the state as well.

     After celebrating Raja, I went across the street to visit the Udayagiri and Khandagiri caves complex. The light rain that day was refreshing, making the experience even more enjoyable as I explored the ancient caves that were originally carved out as residences for Jain monks. Dating back to the 1st and 2nd centuries BCE, the caves are spread across two hills and are a spectacular blend of man-made and natural rock structures. While not immediately apparent, if you look closely inside the caves, there are intricate carvings depicting Jain heritage and scenes from ancient life. Jainism isn’t prominent today, but the caves provide insight into a time when it flourished alongside other religions. Today, the caves remain an important pilgrimage site.

     

     

     

      

     The next day, I traveled to Konark to visit the world-famous Konark Sun Temple, considered by many the most important symbol of Odisha. After a two-hour, sweaty bus ride, I arrived and was soon struck by the grandeur of the ancient temple. Despite the scorching heat, the coastal breeze offered some relief as I wandered around the lush grounds. The temple was designed as a colossal chariot for the sun god Surya, and every square inch of the structure is covered in intricate carvings. At the base, I marveled at the massive stone wheels and iconography telling stories from Hindu mythology. The highlight of my trip, however, was my visit to Konark beach. As soon as I saw the ocean, I couldn’t resist buying a swimsuit and jumping in. There’s nothing better in life than a swim in the ocean, although the sticky bus ride back to Bhubaneswar while covered in saltwater was somewhat less desirable.

     

     

     

      

     My last destination during the three-day weekend was the Dhauli Hills. Located on the outskirts of Bhubaneswar, this site holds spiritual significance for Buddhists. As I climbed the hills from Dhauli town center, the humidity was oppressive, and I was immediately drenched in sweat. My discomfort, however, was tempered by the panoramic views of the surrounding countryside from the top. The main attraction is the pristine, white Shanti Stupa. Even though it was built in the 1970s, it serves as an homage to Buddhism’s roots in Odisha. Nearby, I also explored the ancient Ashokan rock edicts which date back to the 3rd century BCE. Carved after the Kalinga War, this site is a testament to Emperor Ashoka’s remorse after a bloody conflict and his subsequent embrace of Buddhism. Like Hinduism and Jainism, Buddhism has also endured in Odisha for millennia.

     

     

     

      

     To me, there is nothing more fascinating and exciting than religious overlap. Having lived in Jerusalem, I’m familiar with and have witnessed Muslims, Christians, and Jews living side-by-side. Here in Odisha, it’s Buddhists, Jains, and Hindus who have coexisted for millennia, leaving behind a rich tapestry of spiritual heritage. Much like the Abrahamic religions, these Indian faiths share common roots, all emerging from the philosophical traditions of ancient India and sharing concepts like karma, reincarnation, and the pursuit of liberation.

139. Ram to the UN Security Council: Families of the Disappeared Hold the Key to Peace

     June 26, 2024 7:13 pm Leave a Comment

     Ram delivered the following address to the UN Security Council on June 12, 2024 at a discussion on the protection of Civilians in Armed Conflict: Prevent and Respond to Persons Going Missing Across the Globe.

      

     

      

     Thank you, Excellency for this opportunity to share my practical reflections as a representative of families of the missing and the disappeared.

     First of all, I wish to thank ambassador Ms. Pascale Baeriswyl, from the permanent mission of Switzerland to the United Nations for this event, in coordination with the Global Alliance for the Missing.

     I come from a family directly affected by disappearances, with my father having disappeared during Nepal’s armed conflict in 2001.

     Imagine surviving the horrors of a war, only for your father, mother, siblings or children to go missing. What happens to those who remain when a family member is lost not to death or relocation, but to an enforced disappearance or having gone missing? How do the people left behind cope with that tragedy and move on?

     These questions have been part of my personal life for years. My own experiences have connected with other families of the missing around the world, as they suffer, look for an answer, and search for their loved ones.

     But the world has not done enough to acknowledge the suffering of the families or to address their needs.

     It’s a very personal cause for me and for thousands of families. I never imagined how hard the fight would be, and could not stand by without doing something.

     I became engaged in the search process, which has evolved from my suffering alone to becoming a collective search with other victims who share my pain.

     I have spent the last two decades working with the families of missing, initially in my home district, later throughout Nepal and now at the international level, where I stand today in front of the UN Security Council.

     I am here today for those who are not here but have the same demand: to know the truth about their missing loved one.

     Allow me to highlight three key concerns of families: the search for the missing, addressing the breadth of their needs and their desire for peace.

     On search for missing persons: States have the responsibility to search and provide answers to the families. But we, the families, are much more than victims of wars and conflict. Through our local influence and networks we are the first to search when a person goes missing and to provide support and strength to each other. We put our lives at risk looking for any relevant piece of information.

     Families never stop searching. Even when official search mechanisms do exist, families are ever present in their communities, and will not give up. Creating an environment in which families feel safe, protected, and legitimized in their search efforts is key to help us find our missing loved ones.

     Both states in general and dedicated official search mechanisms must set up a formal way of interacting with families. The approach will vary, based on locally relevant solutions, according to each country’s specific traditions and contexts. But the common thread everywhere will be the presence and active interest of the families. This will not only allow information to be shared by families, but for families to be heard by these institutions.

     There are countless examples of successful efforts – even legislative ones – initiated by associations of families worldwide: from the most well-known – the adoption of the International Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearance – to the dozens of national laws that were adopted thanks to the tireless advocacy of family movements. Recently, for example, I was also moved by how Syrian families of the missing and their associations through their mobilization and organizing persuaded the UN General Assembly to establish the Independent Institution on Missing Persons in Syria.

     Yet many families don’t even have such associations to fall back on. I know of many places where individuals are trying to organize themselves into associations or more formal structures to speak as one with authorities. Many such families remain largely excluded from search efforts. We call on States to support the formation and resourcing of such associations as one way of effective participation and representation of concerns of families in search processes.

     Secondly, on the needs of families: While families are active searchers, the impact on families of missing persons is significant. Families have economic, social, administrative, land and property rights, psychosocial and mental health needs that are real. What happens when the main breadwinner is gone? What happens when you cannot register your child in school because you need the signatures of both parents, and one is missing without any such legal status? How can you keep living your daily life with the pain of an absent family member?

     We would strongly encourage States to determine how each of these aspects can be addressed through support, starting from legislation and policies that provide a support framework, down to programmes to meet individual needs.

     Thirdly, on connection to peace: I welcome an emphasis on ensuring that missing persons are addressed in mediation processes – whether these are comprehensive peace agreements or processes with a narrower focus. No person can be at peace with the absence of a family member, and peacebuilding in societies cannot be done without seeking to provide answers at an individual level. Family members searching for loved ones are also peacebuilders. This has been recognized recently in legislation under consideration in Colombia which recognizes individuals searching for missing persons as peacebuilders and affords protection in view of the risks they face. So, resolving missing cases is central to peacebuilding, and in this, the role of families, and family associations, is crucial. Including families or families associations from all sides in peace processes is one effective way of ensuring that the process meets the needs of communities, and can contribute to long-term peace.

     I strongly emphasize that families should be consulted and/or be a part of mediation processes – the Colombian peace process serves as an example. It is important that the missing be on everyone’s agenda as soon as conflict breaks out – the focus should be on preventing people going missing as much as possible.

     It is also important to understand that including the missing in a peace agreement is an important beginning but the problem does not end there – and Nepal is one of the many examples of this:  all actors must ensure and support implementation of such agreements. Families in Nepal are still waiting for answers 18 years after the end of conflict.

     Finally, I would like to remind you all, that States need to do more to bring answers to families, and need to intensify and accelerate their efforts. “Time works against us”. The families would like to remind States that they seek their continued support in mobilising the concerned authorities to find the “political will” and the needed resources in order for families to find truth, answers and justice. There is no sustainable peace without individual peace.

     We, families of missing, would like to encourage States to adopt missing persons legislation and appropriate legal frameworks in all countries where there are missing persons. This should include the creation of specific offices that address the search and the inclusion of families in all aspects of their work; all families should be heard and seen by authorities. States should emphasize the implementation of UNSC Resolution 2474 through translating it into the widest and deepest possible action.

     Thank you.

     

140. WASH at Kulu Opal: “Operational” Toilets

     June 25, 2024 9:54 am 3 Comments

     The purpose of our first visit to Kulu Opal Primary School was to meet with the Head Teacher (equivalent of a Principal in the United States) and discuss his role in the project. The Head Teacher is the primary contact for the project and responsible for overseeing its implementation on a daily basis. Mary, Emma, Walter, and I drove down a dusty and divot-ridden road for an hour to reach Kulu Opal – certainly the most remote place I have yet to visit in Uganda.

      

     

     Views from our drive to Kulu Opal

      

     The Head Teacher is named Layroo Gioffrey* and is a smart, motivated man. He quickly assumed the responsibilities of mobilizing the parents, Parent Teacher Association (PTA), and School Management Committee (SMC) (equivalent to the Board of Education in the United States) and overseeing the project implementation on site. He has warmly welcomed us to his school and is kind enough to offer us lunch (chicken, posho, and beans) when we visit!

      

     

     Kulu Opal Primary School

      

     After speaking in the Head Teacher’s office, we toured the existing latrines. The school currently has 4 sets of 5 stances – 2 sets for boys and 2 sets for girls. However, one of each sets of stances are non-operational.

      

     

     Non-operational girls toilets at Kulu Opal

      

     The District Education Office set a standard of at least 1 latrine for every 40 students. Unfortunately, Kulu Opal does not meet that mark, with only 1 latrine for every 80 boys and 1 for every 72 girls. Even the stances that are “operational” are not in good condition.

      

     

     Mary, Emma, and I inspecting the “operational” girls toilets at Kulu Opal

      

     The stances do not have working doors. There were huge spiderwebs in the corner of the latrines, swarms of flies above the latrine holes, with old feces smudged on the floors and walls. The flies are of high concern, given the high malaria risk in northern Uganda. Click here to view a video made by GDPU and the Advocacy Project that shows the status of the toilets in Kulu Opal in 2023.

      

     

     “Operational” girls toilets at Kulu Opal, with standing liquid at the entryway (it had not rained that day)

      

     The Head Teacher told us that this WASH project is desperately needed at Kulu Opal, and in seeing the status of these toilets, I am assured it is true.

     —

     *In Uganda people say their surname/last name first and then their first name second. It is a little confusing, but it also makes a lot of sense when we consider alphabetizing lists and grouping individuals by family.

141. WASH at Kulu Opal: “If you educate a woman, you educate a whole nation”

     9:07 am 3 Comments

     We have kicked-off the core effort that will be completed during my fellowship here: the water, sanitation, and hygiene (WASH) project at Kulu Opal Primary School. GDPU has built latrine stances at 6 schools since 2016 with the support of the Advocacy Project and their Peace Fellows. You can read more about the projects through Peace Fellows’ blogs, following toilet construction at Tochi (Josh Levy, 2015), Ogul (Lauren Halloran, 2017), Awach Central (Chris Markomanolakis, 2018), Abaka (Spencer Caldwell, 2019), Awach Primary (Kyle Aloof, 2022), and Panykworo (2023). I’m grateful to join the ranks of past Peace Fellows and document our journey this summer!

      

     

     Emma and I visiting the Panykworo Primary School WASH project installed in 2023

      

     Proper WASH facilities at schools is a huge challenge in northern Uganda and over much of East Africa. UNICEF estimates that 33 children die of diarrhea every day in Uganda, caused by drinking unsafe water and improper hygiene behaviors (e.g., not washing hands after using the toilet, open defecation). Diarrhea can also stunt growth and cognitive development, impacting school performance and the livelihoods of children.

      

     

     WASH conditions for children in Uganda (UNICEF)

      

     Accessing latrines and proper hygiene behaviors at school can be especially challenging for persons who are menstruating and those with disabilities, both of whom need additional accommodations to use the toilet. Persons with physical disabilities need handrails and extra space to allow them to enter the stances. In Uganda, there aren’t tampons or pads or diva cups or fancy underwear available to manage periods – they use rags that need to be disposed of after each use. At schools, menstruating persons need a changing room that is clean and protected from the boys, and they need a way to dispose of used rags. If these additional accommodations are not provided, menstruating persons will miss school during their periods each month and may stop attending school altogether.

     This project aims to address these challenges by providing safe, accessible WASH facilities for girls so that they have the ability and confidence to attend school. The WASH package at Kulu Opal will consist of the installation of 5 latrine stances for girls (1 of which will be wheelchair-accessible), a hand-washing station, a girls changing room, a menstrual products incinerator, and a wheelchair-accessible concrete ramp to the stances.

     GDPU will conduct Inclusion Trainings for teachers, to increase awareness and capacity for engaging persons with disabilities, and WASH trainings for students, to promote proper hygiene behaviors. Once the construction and trainings are complete, GDPU, Kulu Opal, and the broader community will participate in a handover ceremony, during which GDPU will give Kulu Opal a year’s worth of high-quality soap.

      

     

     Kulu Opal Primary School

      

     I heard the saying “If you educate a woman, you educate a nation” over the radio recently; an African proverb that is sometimes attributed to Dr. James Emmanuel Kwegyir-Aggrey. I have been thinking about that phrase a lot – how supporting the most vulnerable persons can have ripple effects for others. Research shows that educating girls for one extra year of primary school can boost wages up to 15%, and one extra year of secondary school can boost wages up to 25%, with higher return rates for girls than boys.

     Educating girls is an effective way to not only help their individual growth and future job prospects, but to support the economic betterment of their families and communities. Investing in women and girls increases household well-being. Women are more likely to spend income on their families before themselves, which is why many development interventions target women for cash-based transfers. One study estimates that women invest 90% of their income into their families, whereas men only invest 35%. Women are likely to spend income on nutrition, health, and education, accelerating the development of their communities.

     We have high hopes that the WASH project at Kulu Opal will allow girls to feel safe attending school year-round, and in turn improve the lives of students, families, and the whole community.

142. Peace Begins with Youth

     June 20, 2024 3:01 pm 8 Comments

     The past four days have been filled with musical chairs, balloon games, searching for pumps to inflate soccer balls, dusty hiking pants, potatoes and cabbage, and children’s smiles that lift your heart. 

     I am beginning to witness how CPI’s strategic multi-pronged strategic programming is crucial for decreasing conflict between these pastoralist communities. CPI’s approach starts with the kids and works its way up to the older generations. This is because children aren’t as privy to the history or pain that the other tribe has inflicted upon their community—aside from the fact that children are less likely to hold grudges and would rather have fun with whoever is nearby.

     The end goal of the peace camp is for the kids to find a friend of the other tribe, with whom they connected with during camp. This sets the foundation for CPI’s follow-on activities: “Holiday Exchange” and “Homestays.” The former will be held next month, bringing the kids together again (with parents this time) for another multi-day camp prior to a weekend homestay at the IlChamus friend’s home. Homestays are a key turning point in enabling peace. This summer, IlChamus families will open their homes to a Pokot child, which may have been unthinkable previously.

     Notably, CPI understands that friendship shouldn’t be forced. Monica reminded us that friendship “by fire or force” just doesn’t work. I admire CPI for empowering the kids to make decisions for themselves, and prioritizing authentic connection over increasing their numbers for reporting purposes.

      

     

     Children are excited for camp to begin!

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

     

     Pokot child leading his blindfolded IlChamus friend through the maze

     I found that each interviewee had a unique perspective about their experience with and perception of the conflict. However, a common thread throughout the conversations was that every single person, without being prompted, said enthusiastically that CPI has contributed to decreased conflict between the tribes since they began programming several years back. 

     I started each conversation on a positive note, reflecting the nature of the peace camp. When I asked Reverend Thomas what makes him proud to be part of the IlChamus community, he emphasized the language, cultural ceremonies, and that everyone has a role to play in society. Despite the history of violence, he is hopeful for the future and believes that one day the groups will live in harmony. When I asked what he thinks caused/s the conflict, which he said turned increasingly violent in the late 1970’s, he started with the “politics system.” Politicians from both sides vie for votes by promising they will acquire land from the other to utilize natural resources like oil, gold, and minerals.

     He said that foreign governments and multinational corporations have come in for the same thing. Interestingly, he noted that these resources are not widely known by the general public, so there is a comparative advantage. Admittedly I wasn’t aware of this issue—and will need more info in how this contributes to conflict. However, this is a lesson in itself—new perspectives and realities are emerging for me, and they will continue to. This conflict is multifaceted, and each factor matters.

      

      

     

     Revered Thomas and me

      

     Next, I am heading to the IlChamus’ home in Kiserian (in Baringo County) to embark on program #2: a resource advocacy workshop. Stay tuned!

143. Ram’s June 12 2024 Statement to the UN Security Council

     June 19, 2024 3:21 pm Leave a Comment

     Ram delivered this statement at the United Nations Security Council (Arria Formula Meeting) on June 12, 2024 during a debate on the Protection of Civilians in Armed Conflict: Prevent and Respond to Persons Going Missing Across the Globe. Scroll down for media reaction in Nepal

     Thank you, Excellency for this opportunity to share my practical reflections as a representative of families of the missing and the disappeared.

     First of all, I wish to thank ambassador Ms. Pascale Baeriswyl, from the permanent mission of Switzerland to the United Nations for this event, in coordination with the Global Alliance for the Missing.

     I come from a family directly affected by disappearances, with my father having disappeared during Nepal’s armed conflict in 2001.

     Imagine surviving the horrors of a war, only for your father, mother, siblings or children to go missing. What happens to those who remain when a family member is lost not to death or relocation, but to an enforced disappearance or having gone missing? How do the people left behind cope with that tragedy and move on?

     These questions have been part of my personal life for years. My own experiences have connected with other families of the missing around the world, as they suffer, look for an answer, and search for their loved ones.

     But the world has not done enough to acknowledge the suffering of the families or to address their needs.

     It’s a very personal cause for me and for thousands of families. I never imagined how hard the fight would be, and could not stand by without doing something.

     I became engaged in the search process, which has evolved from my suffering alone to becoming a collective search with other victims who share my pain.

     I have spent the last two decades working with the families of missing, initially in my home district, later throughout Nepal and now at the international level, where I stand today in front of the UN Security Council.

     I am here today for those who are not here but have the same demand: to know the truth about their missing loved one.

     Allow me to highlight three key concerns of families: the search for the missing, addressing the breadth of their needs and their desire for peace.

     On search for missing persons: States have the responsibility to search and provide answers to the families. But we, the families, are much more than victims of wars and conflict. Through our local influence and networks we are the first to search when a person goes missing and to provide support and strength to each other. We put our lives at risk looking for any relevant piece of information.

     Families never stop searching. Even when official search mechanisms do exist, families are ever present in their communities, and will not give up. Creating an environment in which families feel safe, protected, and legitimized in their search efforts is key to help us find our missing loved ones. Both states in general and dedicated official search mechanisms must set up a formal way of interacting with families. The approach will vary, based on locally relevant solutions, according to each country’s specific traditions and contexts. But the common thread everywhere will be the presence and active interest of the families. This will not only allow information to be shared by families, but for families to be heard by these institutions.

     There are countless examples of successful efforts – even legislative ones – initiated by associations of families worldwide: from the most well-known – the adoption of the International Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearance – to the dozens of national laws that were adopted thanks to the tireless advocacy of family movements. Recently, for example, I was also moved by how Syrian families of the missing and their associations through their mobilization and organizing persuaded the UN General Assembly to establish the Independent Institution on Missing Persons in Syria.

     Yet many families don’t even have such associations to fall back on. I know of many places where individuals are trying to organize themselves into associations or more formal structures to speak as one with authorities. Many such families remain largely excluded from search efforts. We call on States to support the formation and resourcing of such associations as one way of effective participation and representation of concerns of families in search processes.  

     Secondly, on the needs of families: While families are active searchers, the impact on families of missing persons is significant. Families have economic, social, administrative, land and property rights, psychosocial and mental health needs that are real. What happens when the main breadwinner is gone? What happens when you cannot register your child in school because you need the signatures of both parents, and one is missing without any such legal status? How can you keep living your daily life with the pain of an absent family member?

     We would strongly encourage States to determine how each of these aspects can be addressed through support, starting from legislation and policies that provide a support framework, down to programmes to meet individual needs.

     Thirdly, on connection to peace: I welcome an emphasis on ensuring that missing persons are addressed in mediation processes – whether these are comprehensive peace agreements or processes with a narrower focus. No person can be at peace with the absence of a family member, and peacebuilding in societies cannot be done without seeking to provide answers at an individual level. Family members searching for loved ones are also peacebuilders. This has been recognized recently in legislation under consideration in Colombia which recognizes individuals searching for missing persons as peacebuilders and affords protection in view of the risks they face. So, resolving missing cases is central to peacebuilding, and in this, the role of families, and family associations, is crucial. Including families or families associations from all sides in peace processes is one effective way of ensuring that the process meets the needs of communities, and can contribute to long-term peace.

     I strongly emphasize that families should be consulted and/or be a part of mediation processes – the Colombian peace process serves as an example. It is important that the missing be on everyone’s agenda as soon as conflict breaks out – the focus should be on preventing people going missing as much as possible.

     It is also important to understand that including the missing in a peace agreement is an important beginning but the problem does not end there – and Nepal is one of the many examples of this:  all actors must ensure and support implementation of such agreements. Families in Nepal are still waiting for answers 18 years after the end of conflict.

     Finally, I would like to remind you all, that States need to do more to bring answers to families, and need to intensify and accelerate their efforts. “Time works against us”. The families would like to remind States that they seek their continued support in mobilising the concerned authorities to find the  “political will” and the needed resources in order for families to find truth, answers and justice. There is no sustainable peace without individual peace.

     We, families of missing, would like to encourage States to adopt missing persons legislation and appropriate legal frameworks in all countries where there are missing persons. This should include the creation of specific offices that address the search and the inclusion of families in all aspects of their work; all families should be heard and seen by authorities. States should emphasize the implementation of UNSC Resolution 2474 through translating it into the widest and deepest possible action.

     Thank you.

     Click here for coverage of Ram’s statement in the Kathmandu Post

144. Hot Times in Daspalla

     6:45 am 3 Comments

     JRP manages many programs, most of which are based in rural or tribal areas. While program management largely takes place at their headquarters in Bhubaneswar, fieldwork is the essence of what JRP does. The malaria program, including the Neem Oil startup and the larger malaria prevention project around the Chandaka Forest, would not be possible without in-person education, relationship-building, and monitoring. Many rural areas still have a low internet penetration rate; nothing will happen unless you make the effort to visit.

     The second half of my fellowship, when the rains are expected to cool temperatures by around 15 degrees, will largely be spent in the field. However, I recently returned from a four-day initial visit to the Daspalla tribal area, where we monitored the early stages of the Neem startup and promoted participation from local communities.

     Before venturing into the field, my assumption was that the landscape would be arid and brown. As we are currently at the tail end of the dry season, I expected the vegetation to be lying dormant after months without rain, much like the African savannahs I am familiar with. My first shock upon exiting the bus was Daspalla’s stunning beauty. It’s a lush, verdant environment abounding with towering old growth mango trees, multiple varieties of palms, and flowers of every color imaginable. Unlike other savannah biomes, Odisha maintains its greenery year-round due to its unique flora and varied topography. Many trees, like the ubiquitous Sal tree, have deep root systems and waxy leaves that help reduce water loss. The state’s mountainous terrain also traps water in streambeds and shaded valleys.

     

     A view of the forest in the Daspalla tribal area

     

     An old growth mango tree

      

     After a quick lunch in town, Surajita and I boarded an auto to the JRP field office. Daspalla city is somewhat urbanized, but one quickly reaches tribal areas after leaving the city center. The buildings transition from multi-story concrete blocks into Kumbha ghar, traditional homes built out of mud, clay, wood, bamboo, straw, and plastered with cow dung. The dress is different too. In the city, western clothing predominates while brightly colored sarees and dhotis, long, unstitched pieces of cloth wrapped around a man’s waist and legs, are more common. The field office, a relatively new building in the middle of the tribal area, stands in contrast. Newer isn’t necessarily better, however. The traditional mud homes stay cooler.

     

     Two women sit in front of their home in Daspalla

     

     Traditional homes on the main street of Pokarigaccha

     

     A woman wearing a Sarri

     

     Man wearing the traditional dhoti

      

     Although our visit was short, Surajita designed a packed itinerary for our visit. I have to commend her effectiveness and efficiency in the field. In four days, we:

     Made two wall paintings to highlight the process of collecting neem seeds, neem oil’s health benefits, and the Neemola brand.

     

     Group picture in front of wall painting 1

     

     Group picture in front of wall paintain 2 (at night)

      

     Conducted an interview with a tribal woman participating in the startup.

     

     Group picture after interview

      

     Visited local homes and developed relationships with current and potential participants.

     

     Surajita with a local family’s child

     

     Surajita meeting with community members

      

     Joined a women’s cooperative during neem seed collection to understand the process and gather footage for a promotional video.

     

     Heading out to collect neem seeds

     

     A photo in the forest where neem trees grow

     

     Meditation break

     

     Removing the stems from neem seeds

     

     Drying the neem seeds after harvest

      

     Checked on the status of the machines that will process neem seeds into neem oil.

     

     Neem oil extraction machine

      

     Visited greenhouses and cold storage units which were constructed as part of JRP’s smart farming program. This program aims to expand agricultural production in tribal areas.

     

     Inside a greenhouse sponsored by JRP and Jeevika Trust

     

     Inspecting a cold storage unit

      

     Overall, the startup is in good shape. More than 50 women’s cooperatives have signed up for the program, neem seed collection is underway, and updates on the amount collected are being provided on a weekly basis to JRP’s two on-site field coordinators. The machines and bottles will be ready come time for processing, and every community member we spoke with expressed interest in using the finished product.

     At this stage, heat remains the biggest hurdle. Indeed, it is impossible to work or be productive during the heat of the day. Temperatures approaching 110°F combined with humidity levels between 60-70% create life-threatening conditions for those engaging in outdoor activities. The high heat and humidity result in wet bulb temperatures exceeding 95°F, making it safe to be active outside only for a couple of hours during the morning and evening. It’s so intense that during the hottest moments, even the wind from riding a motorcycle feels like a blow-dryer. The heat is probably the largest hurdle for Surajita, who not only struggles working in the heat herself, but also faces challenges rallying people to engage with the startup in these conditions. During downtime, people retreat to the shade and eat water rice, the local specialty. One hot afternoon, while relaxing under mango trees that were being harvested by local kids, I also discovered a new favorite fruit of mine: the sour, tangy Kendu!

     

     Everyone Struggles in the heat

      

     Despite the tough conditions, this is a critical startup. The infernal temperatures won’t persist indefinitely. Soon, the rains will start, and mosquitos will once again proliferate. Currently, Odisha has the highest rate of malaria in India. The tribal regions face significant economic challenges, with most people relying on subsistence farming for their livelihoods. However, women’s participation in these agricultural activities is limited. The startup offers a chance for women to contribute to their household incomes by working just a few hours daily, providing a valuable supplement to their families’ financial well-being.

     The work is hard, but Surajita is truly the ideal person for the job. Not only is she a native of the region, but she is also a competent, highly organized individual who interacts with every community in the field with grace. Her friendliness is so infectious that traveling alongside her is effortless – no matter where we journeyed, we were greeted with welcoming smiles and gifts of fresh fruit. Daspalla – with its natural beauty, friendly people, and delicious food – is wonderful. I look forward to returning when the weather is more manageable.

     

     The friendly people of Daspalla

145. Eunice with the green thumb

     June 17, 2024 12:37 pm 2 Comments

     

     Grown in Eunice’s garden!

      

     Eunice is famous at The Advocacy Project for her giant Chinese cabbages, grown in her splendid garden. Eunice’s garden was also the first to be used by several members of Shield of Faith, which makes it the first composting “hub.” In addition, Eunice has grown many different fruits and vegetables in her garden, most notably strawberries. Last year’s Fellow Caitlin took a memorable photo there – the strawberry seems to glow in the gloom!

     Eunice – who has three children – does not share a communal space with other families like some Shield of Faith members. On the other hand, her garden is a lot bigger than any I have seen so far. The fruits and vegetables were doing incredibly well when we visited and anyone could see how much of a green thumb Eunice has. I learned that she used to be a farmer and judging from the success of her garden, I would say she was an amazing one.

     Eunice’s garden had an abundance of vegetables: carrots, red onions, chiles, kale, and pumpkins although I learned that her pumpkin plants had not produced pumpkins until this year. Stella and Eunice told me that if you fry pumpkin leaves with kale, spinach, onions, and tomatoes, it produces a popular side dish to go alongside the Kenyan staple food known as “Ugali.”

     Eunice’s garden is a big success, helped by the organic compost and heavy rains from recent weeks. After her strawberries are harvested, some of the cuttings will be taken to the model farm, a plot of land outside Nairobi acquired by the project, along with being planted in Emma’s garden. The model farm will make an important contribution to the project next year. Making it possible for SOF members who cannot garden in the settlements to grow food and enable Stella to store Lishe-Grow fertilizer as well as train women in gardening techniques.

      

      

146. Meet GDPU: “Maybe the word disability downplays their ability.” – Joe Okwir

     3:46 am 3 Comments

     This is an article in a series profiling staff at GDPU, the Gulu disability community, and those who call northern Uganda home. All contents of this article have been approved and shared with the permission of Joe.

     Joseph Johns (Joe) Okwir has worked at GDPU as a Programs Assistant since 2024, but previously was an intern student in 2022 whose skills and work ethics paved the way for his return in 2022 as an employee of the organization. He has an undergraduate degree in Bachelors of Business and Development Studies from Gulu University and is starting a Masters in Conflict and Peace Studies this fall. Joe immediately struck me with just how passionate he is about his community, his work, and his future goals. This energy is equaled by his passion for the people in his life – on my first day in the office, he led the charge to plan a birthday celebration for a colleague. His family is originally from the Agago District, but Gulu is where he calls home. He currently lives in Gulu with his fiancé, Gloria. His dream is to champion solutions for children in refugee host communities and those affected by emergencies, driven by a dedication to creating positive change.

      

     

     Joe Okwir of GDPU

      

     How did you first hear about GDPU?

     I heard about GDPU when I was working in a [health] clinic. It was Dennis (a Counselor for Persons with Disabilities in Gulu District), actually. I was a receptionist. I greeted him and Dennis asked, “Do you want to work for an organization for people living with disability?” I said “if there is a vacancy.” He told me to apply. So I applied and that was my first time to come here… I brought in my application with Patrick, went through the interview, and I started working.

     In my secondary school days, a debate program aimed at empowering young individuals with disabilities caught my attention. The topic centered around disability, and my reputation as a formidable debater and position as the speaker of district student association meant I was always going to be called upon or involved in organizing the event. With ease and determination, I contributed to the success of the debate.

     Little did I know that this experience would introduce me to the Gulu Disabled Persons Union—an encounter that ignited my passion for advocacy and community impact. At the time, I was in Senior Five, equivalent to 11th grade in the United States. This pivotal moment marked the beginning of my journey toward making a difference.

     What is your role at GDPU?

     While attending university, we were required to complete internships as part of our graduation criteria. I submitted applications to several organizations and secured placements at Child Fund, World Vision, and GDPU.

     However, what truly resonated with me was the opportunity to work with people with disabilities. This unique experience influenced my decision to join this organization. Currently, I serve as a Programs Assistant, providing support across various projects, including WASH and V-PLUS. Whenever assistance is needed, I am there to contribute.

     What work have you been proudest of at GDPU?

     In the crucible of life and death, I faced a pivotal choice during my internship. The organization I worked with supported people living with disabilities, including those with epilepsy. One fateful weekend, I encountered a girl in the throes of a seizure. The staff were absent, leaving me—the intern—with an impossible decision: take her to the hospital or risk her life. I chose the former, disregarding my own fate. The girl survived and the organization understood the gravity of my risk. Another triumph followed during the pandemic: convincing unvaccinated students of the vaccine’s importance. These moments taught me that sometimes, the greatest risks yield the most profound rewards.

     What do you hope GDPU accomplishes in the next ten years?

     I want to support the organization expand beyond the confines of Gulu District/city and become a national entity; this should be our long-term strategic goal. As we evolve, our role must transform into a central hub—a reliable source of information and coordination for disability interventions. By meticulously cataloging data on the disabled population, their needs, and effective interventions, we empower ourselves to drive positive change. As we forge ahead, we need to leverage our knowledge as a potent force for advocacy and impact for the good of persons with disability.

     If a donor showed up tomorrow and gave GDPU the equivalent of $1 million USD (about 4 billion Ugandan Shillings), how would you use it?

     First, I will focus on the need to address critical need for assistive devices which should be our core mission. Next, elevating teacher training to empower educators in handling special needs and disabled populations. Sign language proficiency is essential. Additionally, I would be advocating for accessible structures—classrooms, offices, and restrooms—to accommodate wheelchair users, crutch users, and those with visual impairments in all public institution, schools above all. Our campaign will extend to coaching for special needs games, ensuring not just existence but also enjoyment. Lastly, fostering awareness—because the right of a disabled person are human rights.

     How did you become passionate about working with people with disabilities?

     My journey from my days as a high school debater and organizer introduced me to my current path of employment, I was requested to put together a debate program for PWDs while I was in my secondary school which I did with ease. Initially, I grappled with misconceptions about disability, but witnessing the strength and abilities of individuals with disabilities transformed my perspective, they produced very smart arguments in the debate and surprised me with how they meticulously argued, I then had an interaction with them later on and I realized how wrong I have been about them. So, as I pursued university studies, community development became my calling—a way to champion the rights and well-being of the most marginalized, including those living with disabilities. So then I made a deliberate choice to join GDPU, I was admitted in three other organizations for internship at the time, but the chance to work and learn from Persons with Disability. This was a chance to do something truly greater than my own self, and I would never say no to that chance.

     What is something you wish people knew about GDPU?

     GDPU serves as an umbrella organization, uniting entities like the Blind Association, Association of the Deaf, Association of Women Living with Disability, and Survivors of Landmines. Yet, we are more than a collective; we embody compassion and a profound commitment to disability advocacy. Our understanding of disability has evolved through firsthand experiences. We embrace versatility, collaborating with anyone willing to uplift people living with disabilities. Our dedication extends beyond rhetoric—we actively engage in policy reform and dialogue to enhance lives of persons with disability in this community.

147. Ram to the UN Security Council: Families of the Disappeared Hold the Key to Peace

     June 16, 2024 7:25 pm Leave a Comment

     Ram delivered the following address to the UN Security Council on June 12, 2024 at a discussion on the protection of Civilians in Armed Conflict: Prevent and Respond to Persons Going Missing Across the Globe.

      

     

     Thank you, Excellency for this opportunity to share my practical reflections as a representative of families of the missing and the disappeared.

     First of all, I wish to thank ambassador Ms. Pascale Baeriswyl, from the permanent mission of Switzerland to the United Nations for this event, in coordination with the Global Alliance for the Missing.

     I come from a family directly affected by disappearances, with my father having disappeared during Nepal’s armed conflict in 2001.

     Imagine surviving the horrors of a war, only for your father, mother, siblings or children to go missing. What happens to those who remain when a family member is lost not to death or relocation, but to an enforced disappearance or having gone missing? How do the people left behind cope with that tragedy and move on?

     These questions have been part of my personal life for years. My own experiences have connected with other families of the missing around the world, as they suffer, look for an answer, and search for their loved ones.

     But the world has not done enough to acknowledge the suffering of the families or to address their needs.

     It’s a very personal cause for me and for thousands of families. I never imagined how hard the fight would be, and could not stand by without doing something.

     I became engaged in the search process, which has evolved from my suffering alone to becoming a collective search with other victims who share my pain.

     I have spent the last two decades working with the families of missing, initially in my home district, later throughout Nepal and now at the international level, where I stand today in front of the UN Security Council.

     I am here today for those who are not here but have the same demand: to know the truth about their missing loved one.

     Allow me to highlight three key concerns of families: the search for the missing, addressing the breadth of their needs and their desire for peace.

     On search for missing persons: States have the responsibility to search and provide answers to the families. But we, the families, are much more than victims of wars and conflict. Through our local influence and networks we are the first to search when a person goes missing and to provide support and strength to each other. We put our lives at risk looking for any relevant piece of information.

     Families never stop searching. Even when official search mechanisms do exist, families are ever present in their communities, and will not give up. Creating an environment in which families feel safe, protected, and legitimized in their search efforts is key to help us find our missing loved ones.

     Both states in general and dedicated official search mechanisms must set up a formal way of interacting with families. The approach will vary, based on locally relevant solutions, according to each country’s specific traditions and contexts. But the common thread everywhere will be the presence and active interest of the families. This will not only allow information to be shared by families, but for families to be heard by these institutions.

     There are countless examples of successful efforts – even legislative ones – initiated by associations of families worldwide: from the most well-known – the adoption of the International Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearance – to the dozens of national laws that were adopted thanks to the tireless advocacy of family movements. Recently, for example, I was also moved by how Syrian families of the missing and their associations through their mobilization and organizing persuaded the UN General Assembly to establish the Independent Institution on Missing Persons in Syria.

     Yet many families don’t even have such associations to fall back on. I know of many places where individuals are trying to organize themselves into associations or more formal structures to speak as one with authorities. Many such families remain largely excluded from search efforts. We call on States to support the formation and resourcing of such associations as one way of effective participation and representation of concerns of families in search processes.

     Secondly, on the needs of families: While families are active searchers, the impact on families of missing persons is significant. Families have economic, social, administrative, land and property rights, psychosocial and mental health needs that are real. What happens when the main breadwinner is gone? What happens when you cannot register your child in school because you need the signatures of both parents, and one is missing without any such legal status? How can you keep living your daily life with the pain of an absent family member?

     We would strongly encourage States to determine how each of these aspects can be addressed through support, starting from legislation and policies that provide a support framework, down to programmes to meet individual needs.

     Thirdly, on connection to peace: I welcome an emphasis on ensuring that missing persons are addressed in mediation processes – whether these are comprehensive peace agreements or processes with a narrower focus. No person can be at peace with the absence of a family member, and peacebuilding in societies cannot be done without seeking to provide answers at an individual level. Family members searching for loved ones are also peacebuilders. This has been recognized recently in legislation under consideration in Colombia which recognizes individuals searching for missing persons as peacebuilders and affords protection in view of the risks they face. So, resolving missing cases is central to peacebuilding, and in this, the role of families, and family associations, is crucial. Including families or families associations from all sides in peace processes is one effective way of ensuring that the process meets the needs of communities, and can contribute to long-term peace.

     I strongly emphasize that families should be consulted and/or be a part of mediation processes – the Colombian peace process serves as an example. It is important that the missing be on everyone’s agenda as soon as conflict breaks out – the focus should be on preventing people going missing as much as possible.

     It is also important to understand that including the missing in a peace agreement is an important beginning but the problem does not end there – and Nepal is one of the many examples of this:  all actors must ensure and support implementation of such agreements. Families in Nepal are still waiting for answers 18 years after the end of conflict.

     Finally, I would like to remind you all, that States need to do more to bring answers to families, and need to intensify and accelerate their efforts. “Time works against us”. The families would like to remind States that they seek their continued support in mobilising the concerned authorities to find the “political will” and the needed resources in order for families to find truth, answers and justice. There is no sustainable peace without individual peace.

     We, families of missing, would like to encourage States to adopt missing persons legislation and appropriate legal frameworks in all countries where there are missing persons. This should include the creation of specific offices that address the search and the inclusion of families in all aspects of their work; all families should be heard and seen by authorities. States should emphasize the implementation of UNSC Resolution 2474 through translating it into the widest and deepest possible action.

     Thank you.

      

     

     *

148. It’s Sunny In Emma’s Garden

     June 13, 2024 12:20 pm 3 Comments

     

     Shield of Faith builds a new kitchen garden for Emma, a new member

      

     Emma joined the project in March 2024, making her the newest member of Shield of Faith. She is also the latest to benefit from one of Stella’s patented kitchen gardens – assembled from recycled plastic. We visited her to find out how it’s going.

     Emma lives in Kibera with her three children, ages 14, 10, and 5, and her husband. During the day she does household tasks and tends to her new garden, which is built against a wall and space that she shares with two other families. At night Emma works at an eatery.

     Emma’s garden faces two problems – chickens and sun. Emma’s neighbors share the same gardening space and let the chickens in before they close the gate which means that some of Emma’s vegetables get eaten. Emma has put a cover over her garden, but she also has to shoo the chickens away.

     As for the sun, Emma’s garden is more exposed to sunshine than the other kitchen gardens, which means that her soil dries out at a faster rate. When we visited, Stella suggested that Emma increase the frequency of watering and add some Lishe Grow twice a week. Lishe-Grow (the Swahili for “Grow Nutrition”) is an organic liquid fertilizer produced during composting by worms – the process known as vermiculture. The Lishe-Grow liquid is collected by placing a bucket under a household’s compost bin. Once diluted in water it acts as a very effective fertilizer.

     

     Emma’s garden allows her to “dry compost” paper and other compostibles

     Emma is a composting “ambassador” which means she is tasked with persuading her neighbors to compost and produce a community composting “hub.” Hubs are central to Stella’s vision because they will start to clean up the community as opposed to individual homes. Local vendors produce masses of organic waste in the form of fruit, vegetables and food scraps. If they were to compost it would be a big step forward, but will require a major change of attitude from the vendors. At present, they leave their waste lying around in the road.

     Emma’s is the first composting hub we have visited, and we’ll be watching her progress carefully over the weeks to come. However, like her garden her compost is also dry from the sun, so Emma has covered it with black plastic to keep the compost moist. This is essential because moisture helps to break down the organic matter.

     Emma’s bin is a beautiful hodge-podge! Along with food scraps it also contains “dry compost” in the form of paper and cardboard. We’ll visit her again soon and hope for progress.

149. First Impressions: A Warm Introduction, an Impromptu Speech, and Searing Temperatures

     June 12, 2024 2:40 am 4 Comments

     When Dr. Manoranjan Mishra, the Executive Director at Jeevan Rekha Parishad (JRP) picked me up from the Bhubaneswar airport, I could immediately tell that the city stands in stark contrast to Kolkata. With a metro population of only 1.2 million, it is relatively small for India. It is also referred to as a smart city. Even during our short drive from the airport, it became apparent why: a straightforward network of well-maintained streets, timed traffic lights, a modern bus network, copious urban greenery, little to no traffic, and door-to-door waste collection make Bhubaneswar one of the most desirable cities in East India. While Kolkata is loud, difficult to navigate, and demands your full attention, Bhubaneswar permits you to move at your own pace.

     After arriving on a Sunday evening, a quick dinner at a local food court, and a night of much needed rest, I turned up at the office on Monday morning.

     My first week with JRP, while shorter than usual due to the Indian election and Savitri Amavasya, a regional holiday for married woman, was nonetheless quite busy. The people at JRP are both very friendly and efficient, which I admire. After a warm welcome and a glass of buttermilk, a popular beverage during the hot summer months, I was introduced to JRP’s portfolio of projects.

     While not yet reflected on the website, I can safely say that JRP is involved in a ton of initiatives. Despite their small staff consisting of Biraj and Surajita at the main office and a few field coordinators located off-site in Dashapalla, JRP is involved in a wide range of projects including the protection of endangered marine wildlife like the Irrawaddy dolphin, providing food and professional training for poor or untouchable women and youth living in urban slums or remote areas, honey production, and assisting rural farmers with cold storage and greenhouse construction.

     Dr. Manoranjan Mishra, who also goes by Dr. Manu, is also the Director of International Relations at KT Global School, an innovative boarding school with beautiful grounds and a holistic curriculum located in Khordha.

     Of course, I am here to concentrate on two of JRP’s most recent projects: their malaria prevention project around the Chandaka Forest and their brand-new neem oil startup being launched in collaboration with women-led cooperatives in tribal communities near Dashapalla.

     In each of their projects, JRP adopts a strong community focus. As far as I can tell, most of their work is driven by the needs expressed by the communities they serve as well as the natural resources at their disposal. They don’t employ a top-down approach. This dedication to service shines through, is evident in the passion and dedication of JRP’s staff, and is likely why the organization has persisted for 31 years.

     Unfortunately, there isn’t currently a readily available record of JRP’s incredible achievements throughout Odisha. Helping JRP build an up-to-date website and statement of activities that documents their work will be one of my top priorities during my fellowship.

     

     First day in the office

     

     A warm welcome at JRP

     I am with JRP to focus on their malaria prevention initiatives, and I certainly had the opportunity to make some headway on this front during my first week. The Neem oil project, which will support the production of Neem oil branded Neemola, is just taking off. During my first day, I designed the logo that will be used on the bottled product. I also created a poster advocating for the usage of Neem oil for malaria prevention to be distributed in tribal areas. Surajita and I also started to strategize for our first visit to the field near Dashapalla.

     

     Neemola Logo

     

     Poster advocating for Neem Oil

     JRP knows that I am here to work on their malaria projects, but I had the opportunity to delve into some of their other work during my first week. Realistically, there was little else we could accomplish related to the start-up before traveling to the field. In response to an upcoming deadline for the OceanLove Innovation Award that may help fund their marine conservation work, I designed a graphic representation for their proposal. I also helped prepare an information sheet for a collaborative application to the Qatar Foundation Earthna Prize with 3 other nonprofits in 3 different countries which is awarded based on an organization’s past work related to sustainable urbanism.

     Perhaps the most interesting event of the week, however, was my visit to KT Global School with Dr. Manu for a World Environment Day themed event. Not only did I get to visit the school’s picturesque grounds framed by forested hills, but I was treated to several moving speeches by prominent leaders from UNICEF, local start-ups, and Bollywood stars! When I was asked to speak, I was caught off guard. Without preparation, I delivered a couple minutes of remarks on climate change and activism. I hope I was comprehensible.

     

     A poster for JRPs application to OIA

     

     A poster for JRP’s application to OIA

     

     Speaking at KT Global School

     It remains hot in Odisha. During the day off for Savitri Amavasya, I decided to visit some of the Hindu temples the city is famous for. Many date from as far back as the 5^th century, and they are incredible. The Kalinga style of architecture, with rising shrines built out of intricately carved stone, is awe-inspiring. The sights, combined with the extreme heat and ubiquitous incense, put me into a dreamlike state. I didn’t snap back into reality until I felt myself on the verge of fainting due to dehydration. Fortunately, I found a café with AC where I was able to cool down.

     

     A view of Lingaraja Temple

     Over the weekend and into the next week, I will conduct my first field visit. While I am worried that heat will render the work difficult, I look forward to meeting the communities that will participate in the start-up, trying local foods, and experiencing village life.

150. Shammah Splendid High School

     June 10, 2024 2:39 pm 2 Comments

     

     Olivia (on the right) and I introduce ourselves to students!

      

     I’ve had a wonderful visit from Olivia, another Peace Fellow (at the Fletcher School in Boston) who is working with Children Peace Initiative, a long-term AP partner that organizes peace camps for children from different tribes in the North of Kenya. Olivia is based this summer in the town of Nanuyki, about four hours from Nairobi. She arrived with her host, Monica, to spend a few days in Nairobi and has spent the weekend in my apartment which has been great! Olivia is great company and has been fun to try new coffee shops in the area!

     Monica has friends at the Shammah Splendid High School, on the southern side of the Kibera settlement and we all headed off to pay the school a visit.

     Getting to hear about the school and the students was fascinating and I left with a much better understanding of Kibera and the people living here. I peered into classrooms, met students who were polite and respectful, learned about some of the struggles facing the school and was told where they hope to be in 10 years. It was a visit I will always remember.

     The principal explained to us that Shammah Splendid is a community school which differs from a public and private school in that it receives no funding from the government (public) or fees (private). Teachers are paid through donations and contributions from the families of students. This makes it incredibly hard, but the principal keeps the school doors open and his spirits positive.

     In spite of the shortage of money, the school always does its best to feed the children. Food is expensive here and many children are undernourished, so this is one school meal that is much appreciated. We were invited to eat at the school on one of the days that the school was able to feed students. This kind gesture showed me that the people of Kibera are the definition of resiliency, and also some of the kindest people I’ve ever met.

      

     

     Difficult to disagree with this school motto!

151. Meet GDPU: “It can look like a small center, but it has a big heart.” – Mary Lakot

     1:16 pm 4 Comments

     This is the first article in a series profiling staff at GDPU, the Gulu disability community, and those who call northern Uganda home. All contents of this article have been approved and shared with the permission of Mary.

     Mary Lakot has worked for GDPU since 2014 as the Accountant. She has a Bachelor of Business Administration degree from Gulu University, concentrating in Accounting. Mary has an infectious smile and brings an immense amount of joy to her work and the GDPU offices. Mary lives in Gulu with her husband and three children. Although she has lived here for 16 years, Kitgum is where she calls home. One day, she hopes to become the best female entrepreneur in Uganda and the entire East Africa region with a wholesale clothing business.

      

     

     Mary Lakot of GDPU

      

     How did you first hear about GDPU?

     I heard about GDPU when I was working in a [health] clinic. It was Dennis (a Counselor for Persons with Disabilities in Gulu District), actually. I was a receptionist. I greeted him and Dennis asked, “Do you want to work for an organization for people living with disability?” I said “if there is a vacancy.” He told me to apply. So I applied and that was my first time to come here… I brought in my application with Patrick, went through the interview, and I started working.

     What is your role at GDPU?

     I am the Accountant. The job for an accountant requires knowing a budget and what we have to spend, guiding project people on how they are managing their funds, and looking for resources – what do you need to do to generate income? I look for the best resources our organization can acquire.

     What work have you been proudest of at GDPU?

     I am really very proud of being part of trainings. You see the lives of youth changing through the projects that came in. People recognize the impact. You are changing the lives of people with disabilities.

     What makes me feel good is that before coming here, I used to imagine that they are different. But now that I have worked with people with disabilities for ten years, when I meet them along the street, to me, we are the same. They are people with special abilities. [People ask me], “You are going to your office, how do you communicate with them?” The assumption people here make is that people with disabilities and mental issues should shake you. But not me. Now, I am an advocate for them. We are all on the same level.

     What do you hope GDPU accomplishes in the next ten years?

     GDPU should be self-reliant and come up with something that can help it generate income. There is always challenges with funding. GDPU depends entirely on project funding, so when there is no project, you are not able to keep your staff. When there is no money, then no one will be here.

     In all of northern Uganda, this is the strongest union for persons with disabilities. If you compare GDPU with disability unions in Kitgum or Omoro, they look at us as their role model. So GDPU should strategize on raising money and coming up with business enterprises so they are self-reliant.

     Do you have ideas on what that could be?

     Yes… We are intending to start up a workshop where we can repair assistive devices from here. The money can be small, the youths can be few, but we can integrate mixed [participants] – those with disabilities and those without disabilities. First, we need to improve on the dormitory and improve on the classrooms. Then we are good to go.

     But you know, stepping out of your comfort zone is just another thing. There is that fear of “How many kids will we have? Will we be able to sustain them? Do we have enough resources?” The resources will always not be enough. But we need to take risks. We can start small and improve. We also need to learn to generate money by fundraising locally… Charity begins at home.

     If a donor showed up tomorrow and gave GDPU the equivalent of $1 million USD (about 4 billion Ugandan Shillings), how would you use it?

     First, I would set up GDPU with a big hall. So if there is any workshop in Gulu, people can come, and pay for the hall. You improve the infrastructure first… Since we already have a school and the land is big enough, we build a dormitory that is accommodating and inclusive for both boys and girls. It should accommodate at least 100 boys and 100 girls. If you set up the facility, it can generate money on its own.

     And then, you put a production workshop outside. We now have former beneficiaries – youth who have trained in welding, youth who have trained in electronic repairs. We can identify former beneficiaries and employ them, and we produce quality product. You get exceptional people with good track record already, and you help them build their capacity and their resilience.

     We won’t put everything in one basket. We should start generating money, so after the $1 million, [GDPU] is able to stand on their own. Business-minded, that’s me.

     Right now, if there is a workshop, it is very expensive to [rent] other places. Because now when other organizations, like National Union of Disabled Persons of Uganda (NUDIPU) come to do a training, they go look around at other places. But when you improve your facility, you can host your own project. The facility should be clean, the floor should be tiled, the walls should be good. You should have good power, a generator on, and set up the Wi-Fi. When people come, they should feel comfortable. The first thing to consider is inclusiveness. Is the environment inclusive enough? We are people advocating for persons with disabilities, we know all the criteria needed.

     Also, if we had a guest house, not necessarily here, but in GDPU name, we could make money. We have had Peace Fellows for the past four years. [If we had a guest house], we would have had that money coming back to us, not going out. All of these are things that can keep GDPU moving.

     How did you become passionate about working with people with disabilities?

     I feel that God was preparing me for this. There was a girl with disabilities who sat behind me in primary school. I found her at GDPU when I started working here. We were in the same class for four years. My second year at university, I was living with two girls with disabilities in the same room. So I started thinking, “Why was I meeting these people?” Was it because I was coming to work here? Maybe.

     When you see some of the children, your heart breaks. [Parents] don’t take care of them well. The child is sleeping naked at ten years, nine years [old]. But at least if you get the parents taking care of a child with disability very well, you get motivated. You feel happy. You appreciate such a parent. But you protect your heart by just saying, God knows.

     But it’s hard, eh? You feel broken. The first time I visited the school [for children with disabilities in Gulu], I talked to [the head teacher] and he told me, “I know today you’re broken because it’s your first time.” When I came back, I had a headache. A very bad one. I said [to Emma], “If you knew you were taking me to such a place, you should have told me.” The kids look so bad. They were feeding them posho (corn meal), cabbages – it looked like they were just boiling them. There’s no nutrients there. These kids need protein, they need beans, at least. But [the head teacher], he’s trying his best. I could not blame him.

     I believe I’m very strong. But whenever I see children with disabilities, that is the part that kills me. Because I’m a mother… It’s too hard for a child. Because you don’t know what happens.

     What is something you wish people knew about GDPU?

     This is a home for everyone, whether you are disabled or not. And in this place, you are able to be humbled and learn a lot about disability and people around you. At any time, you are just temporarily abled. Being here, I’ve learned a lot. Some are not born with disability, they just got it along the way. So when you are out there seeing someone with disability wanting to cross the road, help them. You don’t know what tomorrow brings.

     It can look like a small center, but it has a big heart. And once you are here, you learn to love – a person with disability, you will not put them aside.

     Is there anything we did not talk about that you would want people to know about you or your work?

     I love this place. It will be very hard for me to walk away from GDPU. I do not know why. It has been part of my home. At some point, I walked away and worked somewhere for three years. But when they called me, I willingly came back.

     But there will be a time for me to exit. I want to leave GDPU using improved financial software. Because for the past five years, we have only used simple accounting packages. The challenges is money and [the software] needs money to sustain it. If we could improve our accounting software, I would have left GDPU better than I found it.

152. A Warm Gulu Welcome

     June 6, 2024 3:44 am 4 Comments

     Kapongo from Gulu! Emma, the WASH Project Officer, and I made the slightly treacherous bus ride from Kampala to Gulu together at the end of last week. After settling into Gulu over the weekend, I started my first day at the GDPU office. As past Peace Fellows have described, GDPU is the parent organization for four non-governmental organizations (NGOs) providing services to persons with disabilities, including those with mental and physical (e.g., deaf, blind, mobility) impairments. The NGOs and their offices are centered around two grand mango trees that provide shade from the intense Ugandan sun.

      

     

     Mango trees that are the center of the GDPU and partner organization offices

      

     The mission of GDPU is to “empower persons with disabilities to live independent and dignified life.” I got to see this mission in action in my first day at the office. I observed a training conducted by Patrick, the Director of GDPU, and Emma as part of a series from the Street Business School. The trainings teach persons with disabilities how to start and sustain businesses on the street (e.g., selling produce). Attendees were primarily women and ranged in age from a teenager to a more elderly woman.

      

     

     Attendees at the Street Business School training

      

     I watched Patrick come alive in the training as he very sincerely and earnestly shared knowledge with the attendees. The training was verbally taught in the local language Acholi, translated into Ugandan Sign Language (USL), and written on poster paper in English. I imagine that a space like this, with simple but meaningful efforts to ensure the information was made as accessible as possible, is not a common experience for the participants. The attendees clearly found value in the information – every person was listening/watching intently and taking notes. It was the perfect introduction to GDPU and the impact their work has on their community.

      

     

     (From left to right) Nancy, Patrick, and Emma teaching the training

      

     Over the course of this week, I was introduced to the full GDPU office team – Patrick, Emma, Faruk, Mary, Joe, Walter, and the GDPU Board members. I was also lucky to meet other members of the Gulu community: Brenda, a teacher for the GDPU  vocational skills program; Nancy, an Acholi/English/Uganda Sign Language translator; Steven from Explosive Network Ordnance of Survivors; Caesar, the District Education Officer, and many more. It is unsurprising that people stop to come meet the “mzungu” (white person) that is suddenly in their space, but I am surprised and honored by the warm welcome each person has given me to the place they call home.

     I will leave you with a few new phrases I’ve learned in Acholi. While the country’s official language is English, the people of Uganda speak over 70 different languages. My new Acholi vocabulary includes:

     • Kapongo = Hello
     • Itiye ni ning? = How are you?
     • Atiye maber, kono in? = I am fine, and you?
     • Icho = Good morning
     • Iree = Good afternoon/evening
     • Afowyo = Thank you
     • Tima kica = Excuse me/sorry (a very important one for a foreigner in a new place)

     Afowyo! See you!

153. First Days in Kileleshwa

     June 5, 2024 2:34 pm 1 Comment

     

     My room with a view!

      

     After 25 hours of traveling, fighting a head cold, and functioning on a few hours of sleep, I have finally made it to Nairobi, Kenya to start my fellowship!

     I am excited to be working with Stella and her daughter Zawadi, along with the dedicated members of Shield of Faith, the association of mainly single mothers who are using composting to end pollution and under-nutrition in the informal settlements of Nairobi. Hopefully, you’ve all read about them through AP news bulletins and the movie we produced earlier this year. “The Worm Ladies of Kibera” are famous! You can meet them here.

     Stella and I have set two main goals for my summer fellowship: first, help Shield of Faith build a social media presence to increase international and community support for the composting project; and second, report on the composting project through my blogs.

     This is the year that the project moves from an experimental start-up to a full-blown program. Much of the model has been thoroughly tested and found to work, but Stella has identified two new activities that are central to the program’s future: take the composting model from individual homes into communities, and introduce composting and kitchen gardens to schools.

     I’m here to help and I’m also enjoying Africa for the first time! After I stepped out of my plane in Nairobi I was met with a beautiful sunrise that reminded me of home, and immediately felt a little more at ease.

     I’m staying in a high-rise apartment in the neighborhood of Kileleshwa, where many visitors from AP have stayed. It’s comfortable and modern so I believe I will be fine here! On my first day in Kenya I got to meet my wonderful host Stella, who will be my mentor for the next ten weeks. The jet lag has been difficult to handle and the lack of sleep is really making me miss home, but Stella and Zawadi have been kind and welcoming. Spending time with them has made me feel so much better and helped with the homesickness.

     My first week was full of administrative chores, such as setting up an eSIM (phone card) and MPESA (mobile money transfers). It took Stella and I many hours, but after the third day we had officially got it all figured out. Over the weekend I got the opportunity to go into the city with Zawadi and it was a culture shock to say the least! The cars drive on the opposite side of the street, and I never thought that crossing a road could be so hard. With how often everyone crosses the street, I was surprised there are very few crosswalks and red lights seem more like a suggestion to drivers than a command. This makes it difficult to know when you can and cannot cross.

     Thankfully Zawadi led the way and made sure I did not walk into oncoming traffic!

154. Questions, Questions, and More Questions

     1:51 pm 5 Comments

     Before starting my fellowship at CPIK, I had the opportunity to research conflict among pastoralist groups in central and East Africa. For example, I compiled a case study on farmer-herder conflict in the Middle Belt of Nigeria. I also spoke to my professors about how climate change relates to the uptick in violence over the past few decades among pastoralist groups in northern Kenya, including those whom CPIK works directly with, like the Pokot. As academics should, I came away with more questions than answers—and I bring them into my fellowship.

      

     I am curious about the international community’s narrative that climate change is the driving cause of conflict, particularly over the last decade. In fact, billions of dollars in externally-designed “climate resilience” interventions have not seemed to meet the needs of these tribes, evidenced by a humanitarian crisis in the midst of a four year drought. Indeed, former peace fellow Julia Holladay noted the alternative, research-driven narrative—that climate change exacerbates conflict but does not directly cause it. To elaborate, environmental fluctuations have been a reality that pastoralists have dealt with, and adapted to, for millennia. While the planet is currently heating up at an unprecedented rate, which contributes to irregular rainfall and increased temperatures, pastoralist groups have historically managed despite various periods of floods and droughts through using indigenous knowledge.

      

     Furthermore, inter-tribal violence is not inevitable. This University of Sussex study examined the historic “moral economy” of pastoralists in Kenya’s Isiolo County. It found that over the past 45 years, tribes relied on “redistribution, comradeship, diversification, and collective response to protect the livelihoods from external threats.” Referencing the two tribes we will work with this summer—the Pokot and Il Chamus—I am curious whether they historically maintained a social environment that managed conflict and exercised interdependence.

      

     So, perhaps one of the main questions for me to explore this summer is, IF the Pokots and Il Chamus have experienced peace in the past despite environmental fluctuations, then what has changed? What are the additional complicating factors besides climate change that has caused violence? What are we missing here, and what should be part of future interventions?

      

     To address these questions, I am excited to be working with CPI, which has worked for 13 years to prioritize localized interventions and does so by developing authentic relationships with children, warriors, and elders. The “fora outreach” camps this summer will quite literally meet the tribes where they are (in the fora) to discuss pastoralists’ personal experiences with the eroding grazable land and drying watering holes. And these testimonies will inform CPI’s interventions. I’m looking forward to exploring this “bottom-up” approach to mitigating pastoralist conflict. As I enter the next three weeks of fieldwork, I ask the following questions: (1) How can we at CPI balance our targeted work on climate change, while recognizing the multi-faceted nature of this conflict—which involves the influx of small and light arms weapons, ineffective policing, and/ or corrupt governance?  (2) What are ways that CPIK programming can empower warriors, who may feel that their source of prestige and income (acquiring cows) is being threatened? (3) Within the tribes themselves, are there men who are not fighting? Why? What are their relationships with those who are? And critically, how are women and children valued?

      

     I have more questions, but there are eight more blogs for that, and I presume I’ll be using at least some of that airtime with answers. In the meantime, I’d like to give kudos to the CPI team for participating in the GIZ Conference for Peace this week in Nairobi. CPI showcased our work amongst a large group of other local peacebuilding NGO’s in a jam-packed but exciting two day event.

     

     Purity Karimi, CPI Finance Manager, discusses our mission to a conference participant

     

     Hilary Bukuno and Monica Kinyua proudly represent CPI

155. A Lesson from Flora

     May 29, 2024 11:52 am 6 Comments

     After a few teary airport goodbyes and delayed and un-delayed and changed flights, I finally arrived in Uganda to begin my Peace Fellowship. I am grateful to be supporting the Gulu Disabled Person’s Union (GDPU) program that builds accessible toilets and handwashing stations at schools in the district. I will primarily support two GDPU efforts this summer:

     1. The monitoring and evaluation of existing latrines and handwashing stations that GDPU has built at schools in the district.

     2. The installation of a new latrine and handwashing station and menstrual products incinerator at a school in Kulu Opal.

     As someone who studied environmental engineering and is passionate about water accessibility, the opportunity to work for Emma and the GDPU team on this project is an immense privilege. I can’t wait to get started. But before heading to Gulu, I have a few days stopover in Kampala.

     

     The sunset from my first night in Uganda

      

     On my first morning in Kampala, I visited the Uganda National Museum. I find that a history museum, and what a national government wishes to highlight about their country, can teach you a lot. The museum is an accumulation of many different themes and eras of Uganda. There are exhibits about traditional clothing and foods, excavated archaeological findings, Ugandan Olympians, and geological forces that changed the topography of Uganda over millions of years.

     The museum boasts a multi-room exhibit about primates, focusing heavily on the mountain gorilla. Only approximately 1,000 mountain gorillas currently exist on earth, half of which live in Uganda’s Bwindi Impenetrable National Park. The rest of the mountain gorillas live in the Virunga Volcanoes, a region including Rwanda, DRC, and the Mgahinga National Park in Uganda. The exhibit highlights the dedicated Ugandan researchers who are working towards the conservation of these precious animals.

     

     A very glared mountain gorilla taxidermy from the Uganda National Museum

      

     I was definitely surprised by some exhibits. For example, there is a room about Henry Ford, the American founder of Ford Motor Company. The exhibit features an actual Ford Model T car but no written explanation of the connection to Uganda (although I later found out there is a Ford dealership in Kampala). There is an exhibit about why oil is beneficial to the environment and the economy. Curiously, this section was funded by the Uganda National Oil Company. This reminded me of the oil and gas section at the Bullock Texas State History Museum, curiously also funded by the Texas Oil and Gas Company…

     In the back of the museum, the Uganda Ministry of Tourism, Wildlife and Antiquities recreated a “Cultural Village.” This series of traditional homes demonstrates indigenous living styles, each aligned with a different region of the country.

     

     A recreated traditional home at the Uganda National Museum

      

     As you might be able to see in this photo, Kampala is a city but also very green. I am amazed by how large the flora are. Palm trees and arrowhead plants grow just about everywhere.

     The arrowhead plants pictured below are located at the Uganda National Museum. The plant on the left is about 3 feet (1 meter) tall and has leaves about 8 inches (20 cm) long. The plant in the right photo is about 6 feet (2 meters) tall and has 2-foot (60 cm) leaves! In comparison, I have tried again and again to keep an 8-inch (20 cm) tall arrowhead houseplant alive in my apartment in the United States, to absolutely no avail.

     

     Arrowhead plants at the Uganda National Museum

      

     I also noticed this phenomenon when I visited Malawi and Tanzania – plants growing to almost comically large proportions, developing uninhibited when planted in the right conditions. In East Africa, it seems like things flourish in places where they are meant to be. I hope this will be true for me this summer as a Peace Fellow, as well.

156. High School Students Bear the Brunt of Enforcing a State Ban on Food Waste in Rhode Island

     March 24, 2024 3:00 pm Leave a Comment

     

     Doomsday scenario: Rhode Island’s single landfill receives 722 tons of food waste a day and could run out of space by 2040

      

     Many school administrators in the state of Rhode Island are ignoring a new law to divert food waste from landfills, leaving students to carry the burden of persuading over-worked school staff and reluctant fellow students, according to a new survey launched by two high school activists.

     The law is one of only six in the US and is viewed as a major response to the growing threat of climate change at the state level. It took effect on January 1 last year and requires all schools in Rhode Island that produce more than thirty tons of organic waste a year, or lie within 15 miles of a composting facility, to compost or recycle the waste and donate unused food to food banks.

     In spite of its importance, the law suffers from a lack of enforcement provisions and funds according to Emma Pautz and Bella Quiroa, two rising seniors at high schools in Rhode Island who also advise The Advocacy Project. As a result, implementation of the law is left to schools that are struggling with many other competing priorities and threatened by budget cuts.

     Ms Pautz and Ms Quiroa have launched a survey and petition, the Youth Composting Campaign Initiative, to drum up support for the law. They presented preliminary findings recently at a composting conference sponsored by Rhode Island College in Providence, the state capital.

     Of the 74 teachers to have responded to the survey so far, 65% had not heard of the mandate and only 9% reported that they had a “strong” composting program that involves students. Ms Pautz described this as deeply discouraging. “Obviously, it is not good enough” she said in her presentation.

     *

     Rhode Island is blessed with a spectacular coastline and is heavily dependent on tourism, but both are at serious risk from garbage and climate change, according to speakers at the recent conference.

     The state has one landfill and at the current rate it will fill up by 2040, forcing Rhode Island to export waste to other states at a sharply higher cost than the current $58.50 a ton. Alarmed legislators are considering a bill to impose a surcharge of $2 a ton on all garbage collected to encourage new thinking.

     Food waste should be the first target according to Josh Daly, associate director at the Rhode Island Food Policy Council. The state sends 722 tons of food waste a day into the landfill where it is converted into methane gas, one of the deadliest greenhouse gases, he said.

     The federal government’s Environmental Protection Agency is also urging states to focus on the linkage between food waste and climate change and has offered Rhode Island $50 million to implement a climate action program. Of this, around $2 million is earmarked for food waste.

     Ms Pautz and Ms Quiroa are also outraged that so much food is going to waste in a state where under-nutrition is high among low-income families and minorities. Almost 14% of all Rhode Island households receive supplemental food from the government.

     *

     The looming threat from climate change is producing a generation of student leaders who are, in the words of Emma Pautz, “terrified” by what lies ahead.

     Ms Pautz herself was inspired by Greta Thunberg, the Swedish climate activist, at the age of 12. Soon after arriving at the Barrington High School, where she studies, Ms Pautz got two composting bins set up in the cafeteria and persuaded other students to join her in monitoring the bins. The nearby Barrington Farm School collects the waste for free on an electric bicycle, and by last summer Ms Pautz’s team was diverting over 12 gallons a week.

     Bitten by the green bug, Ms Pautz spends weekends clearing nature trails and draws praise for her commitment. “Emma has a passion for environmental projects and doesn’t let anything stop her,” said Amy Nicodemus, Ms Pautz’s school advisor. “I wish we had more young people with her drive!”

     Bella Quiroa, the campaign co-leader, came to composting through an internship at Clean Ocean Access, a non-profit in Newport, that enabled her to introduce composting to younger students at five other local schools. Last Halloween she collected over 80 discarded pumpkins from local farms and held a carving competition, Carving for Compost, for students and families.

     “The pumpkin guts and bits were composted as people carved, and the excess pumpkins were donated to a local farm for their cows to eat,” said Ms Quiroa. “The idea was to raise money in a fun way and protest the fact that so many pumpkins go to waste and end up in landfills.”

     Ms Quiroa has also given composting presentations at her church in Spanish and English, using 5-gallon buckets donated by local businesses. “It is so rewarding to work with communities!”

     *

     

     Emma Pautz

     For all their achievements, the experience of Ms Pautz and Ms Quiroa also exposes the limits to student activism.

     Several participants at the recent conference noted that younger students at elementary and middle schools are open to composting because they accept direction and like new ideas.

     But high school students are more resistant to authority and can be resentful of initiatives by other students, said Ms Pautz. She recalled one student who tossed several uneaten apples into the trash bin in front of her, as an act of spite. “Monitoring food scraps is not seen as cool,” she said. “Most kids would rather sit and talk to their friends.”

     This has not deterred Ms Pautz. One of her fellow composters, Sabine Cladis, said that they regularly stand up on chairs and “yell” at other students. “We can be pretty aggressive!”

     But Ms Pautz also complained that their campaign had been undermined by her school board, which suddenly decided to take over composting from students last summer. “When we turned up for the new school year, the bins were gone. When I asked what had happened, they said ‘Oops – we forgot.’”

     This forced the students to start from scratch, and they are currently collecting less than a quarter of the 12 gallons a week they binned last summer. Ms Pautz added that the Board’s inaction had sent a message that composting was not seen as a priority by the school authorities, weakening her standing in the eyes of other students.

     At the same time, Ms Pautz conceded that school administrators have many other worries on their plate. Her own school is facing a serious funding deficit and is also struggling to implement a state ban on smoking.

     Composting in schools presents other challenges. Several respondents to the student survey noted that food service in their schools is outsourced to Chartwells, a catering company, and called on the company to do more to support composting in school kitchens and cafeterias. Chartwells did not respond to a request for comment for this article.

     Finally, it is sinking in that Ms Pautz and Ms Quiroa will graduate next summer, and that their efforts will probably come to an abrupt halt if they cannot coopt other students to take over when they leave. “Sustainability is a big worry,” said Emma.

     *

     If students play a key role in implementing the state ban, teachers are uniquely placed to help.

     Tyson Edmonds, a teacher at the The Prout School in the town of Wakefield, offers a course on environmental justice that has inspired his students to compost up to five gallons of food waste a day in the school cafeteria, for use on the school garden. Several students attended the conference last week and were quick to sign the survey and petition by Ms Pautz and Ms Quiroa. Some have started composting at home.

     Katie Bowers, a teacher at the Birchwood Middle School in Providence and compost enthusiast, said that it requires constant effort to keep students interested and come up with new ideas. These have included “zero waste days” and encouraging students to plant a mixture of squash, beans and corn which she calls the “Three Sisters.”

     But this is definitely producing a change in behavior, said Ms Bowers. More and more students are putting food scraps to one side on their lunch trays, making it easier to toss the waste into the bins.

     Ms Bowers also said that teachers can act as cheerleaders with school custodians, who manage school garbage, and with catering staff. After some initial skepticism, the kitchen staff at Birchwood are now solidly behind composting and help by putting scraps and unused food to one side when they clean out fridges and salad bars.

     Ultimately, however, “change must come from the top” in any school, said Ms Bowers. While a new district school superintendent can breathe life into a food waste plan, the reverse can also happen. The principal at Barrington High is new and the superintendent of the school district will retire this year. Ms Pautz’s advocacy with school authorities appears to be back to square one.

     *

     

     Bella Quiroa

     For all the zeal shown by state legislators in passing the ban, there appears to be little stomach for tougher enforcement that would put more pressure on school boards and principals.

     Nor does the state seem ready to offer more funding, with the exception of climate-related money, although experts feel money should not be a significant impediment.

     The waste from the Barrington High School is picked up for free. While other schools pay for haulage, the cost rarely exceeds $50 a week for smaller schools according to Justin Sandler at Black Earth Composting, which works with around 15 schools in Rhode Island and charges $24 to haul a 64-gallon bin. “If they really want it, schools find the funding,” he said.

     One source of funding is 11^th Hour Racing, a foundation that has supported two nonprofits working with schools, the Rhode Island Recycling Project and Clean Ocean Access.

     Jim Corwin, a co-director at the Recycling Project, said that his group has helped 13 schools to launch composting in the Providence area. Between them they have diverted 100 tons of waste and recovered 13 tons of unused food in the last three years. The Club has also made the case for composting with principals and school boards, including at the Birchwood School.

     Elsewhere in the state, however, food waste diversion suffered a major reverse earlier this year when Clean Ocean Access unexpectedly closed down without any public explanation. The group had supported composting at 11 schools on Aquidneck Island, which includes the district of Newport, and sponsored Bella Quiroa’s outreach to elementary students. Advocates say that that the group’s demise has further undercut the state’s faltering efforts to implement the ban.

     *

     If Bella Quiroa and Emma Pautz are unnerved by the pressures, they did not show it at the recent conference. Judging from their survey, most schools are unaware that the state ban even exists, and the two students plan to change this by making as much noise as possible. Their petition has attracted over 700 signatures in less than a month and they plan to use this in approaching the media, schools, boards and legislators.

     “We need to get some urgency into this,” said Ms Pautz. “It’s as simple as that.”

      

     

     Managing climate change: Bella Quiroa, left, and Emma Pautz, right, join Sarah Lavallee and Maggie Lauder in cleaning up Newport beaches, which have been battered by storms

     *

157. The Greening of Kibera

     March 8, 2024 3:51 pm Leave a Comment

      

     

     Stella Makena and Eunice Ngigi with Chinese cabbage grown in compost by Eunice

      

     (Second of two posts)

     As we move through Kibera it becomes clear that the Shield of Faith composters love green vegetables almost as much as they love their worms. If their first goal is to manage garbage, improving nutrition comes a close second.

     Most vegetables sold in Kibera are grown in sewage. This has contributed to under-nutrition and stunting among children. Added to which, food is so expensive that it can account for a third of a family’s weekly bills.

     Stella Makena, the group coordinator, has long dreamed of producing organic food here. This seems far-fetched given that very few families in the settlements have a back yard, let alone access to cultivable land. Yet twelve of the 20 composters erected kitchen gardens and grew their own food in 2023.

     The gardens themselves are miracles of innovation, fashioned from recycled wood and old plastic containers into which are added soil, seeds and Lishe-Grow leachate produced by the worms. Some composters have also begun to grow vegetables in vertical plastic towers, which can be taken apart and are fed with water from the top. The towers are perfect for a confined space.

     Most of the gardeners grow collard greens, known locally as sukuma wiki, which is sturdy and nutritious. Kale, cabbage, strawberries, lettuce, cucumbers, maize, tomatoes, onions and pumpkins have also graced their gardens. Some varieties can last up to 4 months before they are exhausted and need to be replaced with new seedlings or cuttings. The discarded plants are composted.

     Stella is the group’s green guru and she visits her gardeners regularly to offer advice and encouragement. Water and soil pose the biggest challenges. One enthusiastic gardener, Roseanne, keeps chickens which provide her garden with manure. But when we visited, the soil in her plastic towers was drying out too quickly and causing her vegetables to wither. Stella recommended adding worm castings and compost.

     Gardens are treated like members of the family. Beldine has covered her plants with a blanket of recycled netting to protect them from the sun and heavy rains. Stella’s verdict: “Beldine – you’re a star!”

     So much effort, but does it produce any food worth speaking of? I put the question to Stella while nose high with some drooping sukuma wiki in another garden. Not to worry, she said, the plants would perk up after being watered. Vena, the owner of the garden, told us that she harvests vegetables three times a week and makes each batch last for several meals. In addition to the nutritional benefits, Vena saves money on food bills.

     All of which was music to Stella’s ears. The idea of growing organic food in the middle of such an unhealthy environment appeals to her deeply.

     *

     The Kibera composters understand that on their own they will have a negligible impact on a settlement of over 200,000 souls that generates around 230 tons of garbage a day. As a result, they hope to take their model out into the community and become, in Stella’s words, “catalysts for change.”

     One point of entry could be public schools, which offer a daily cooked meal to students and in the process generate prodigious amounts of organic waste. Once composting catches on in one school, predicts Stella, others will follow.

     Stella took a step in this direction last year when she and Vena erected a kitchen garden at Project Elimu, a well-known after school program that offers ballet and art to over 200 children from Kibera schools at weekends and many more during the holidays.

     The children are happy to get into the dirt and Michael Wamaya, the visionary founder of Elimu, was delighted to add gardening to the curriculum.

     “Kibera is very rough on children,” he told me. “But when we show them how tomatoes grow, they want to water the plants. This brings out a kindness in them and affects the way they deal with other children.” One of Michael’s top students, Felix, has agreed to serve as a Shield of Faith “green ambassador.”

     *

     Under Stella’s 2024 plan, ten composters will collect organic waste from their neighbors and create “composting hubs.” This, she hopes, will build interest and start creating demand for composting in the community at large.

     The creative chaos of settlement life will help. Outside the Elimu center, the streets are alive with vendors selling fruit, vegetables and cooked snacks like kangumu (crunchy cakes) or mandazi (a local donut). Some variety of food is found at every corner and most of it generates organic waste that could be composted.

     Some hubs are already under way. Eunice collects waste from her neighbors to feed her large garden, which is an island of green in a sea of gray grime. Several other Shield of Faith members use her garden to plant and harvest their own vegetables.

     At first sight, hubs are beyond the reach of composters like Catherine and her son Biden (named after the US president), whose rooftop garden was demolished when their landlord added a new level to the building. Ruth is another composter who lives several floors up and has no back yard.

     But Ruth is determined to grow her own food and she has persuaded the local authority to lease her a tiny strip of waste-land a considerable distance from her building. The land was littered with rubbish when we visited but the prospect of going green was already putting a smile on Ruth’s face.

     Sure enough, after several weeks of hard work, the ubiquitous sukuma wiki was sprouting in Ruth’s garden and a new composting hub had been born. Stella’s before and after photos (below) say it all.

     Iain Guest is Director of The Advocacy Project. Read the first article in this series

      

     

     Photo by Caitlin Mittrick, 2023 Peace Fellow

      

     Ripe for a composting hub	Tasty snacks produce organic waste
     Caitlin helps to assemble a garden	Vena has started a garden beside a road
     Stella and Irene with Lishe-Grow leachate. Irene produced 50 kilos in 2024	Michael Amaya and Stella installed a tower garden at Project Elimu
     Beldine protects her plants against sun and rain	Esther and her daughter Hope in their garden
     Ruth turned waste-land ……….	………. into a kitchen garden

      

     *

158. Composting Empowers the Worm Ladies of Kibera

     March 7, 2024 2:59 pm Leave a Comment

     

     Ruth composts in her one-room apartment

     (First of two posts)

     The Advocacy Project is observing International Women’s Day (March 8) by acknowledging twenty women who composted 3.9 tons of organic waste in Kibera, Nairobi, and several adjacent settlements last year. Twelve of the composters also grew organic vegetables in kitchen gardens that they assembled from recycled materials.

     This is no small achievement in communities that are known throughout Africa for pollution, overcrowding and under-nutrition. It is even more noteworthy given that most of the women are single mothers. Ten also have children with albinism, a skin condition that often causes affected families to shrink from public view.

     But not this group. The composters have formed an association, Shield of Faith, and this year they plan to launch a series of composting “hubs” in an effort to change the attitudes and behavior of their neighbors. I visited them last Fall in the company of Stella Makena, their tireless coordinator, to understand their obsession with composting.

     *

     The settlements of Nairobi are called informal for a reason. Almost all of the services are provided by NGOs and an army of local entrepreneurs, many of them totally unscrupulous.

     In one example, electricity is tapped (illegally) from power lines that run above the houses and sold to residents at exorbitant rates. There is no such thing as maintenance and shortly after our visit Margaret, one of the composters, learned that her eight-year old granddaughter had touched a live wire while playing outside and died instantly. Margaret had to find 14,000 Kenyan shillings to pay for the funeral – equivalent to two months wages – while coping with her grief.

     Albinism adds to the anxiety. Some Shield of Faith mothers have dealt with albinism by sending their children to boarding school to protect them against bullying, superstition and violence in the settlements. (Margaret’s son was almost kidnapped and killed.) Others cannot bear to live without their children and keep them as close as possible.

     We visited one of the most active composters, Ruth, who has two children with albinism and one without. The four live together in a single room high up in a gloomy tenement building in the settlement of Huruma.

     There are no lights in the stairwell and Ruth hauls heavy buckets of water up through the gloom several times a day, using her phone’s flashlight to avoid a tumble. Up on the fourth floor the family shares an open toilet and shower with others that live on the same corridor. Water is so precious that Ruth saves what she can from washing clothes and dishes to flush waste down the toilet. Garbage is taken downstairs and dumped.

     Once inside the family’s room, you are immediately struck by the lack of personal space. Until recently Ruth slept on the floor, which was bone-chillingly cold during winter. She has since purchased a large bed that can accommodate her and her son on one mattress and her two daughters on an upper level. But the bed takes up a lot more space and is now squeezed awkwardly between Ruth’s sewing machine and cooking area.

     Such trade-offs are normal in the settlements. “I’m struggling but I’m trying!” said Ruth cheerfully.

     *

     I asked Ruth why she goes to the effort of composting in such a confined space. Does it not create more or a burden? She answered by introducing us to Red Wriggler worms that live in blue composting bins (“wormy bins”) in the corner and munch their way through her food scraps. Ruth plunged her hand into the muck and pulled out one of the creatures for our inspection. “I live with these worms,” she says happily. “We have to share this tiny space!”

     Their alliance works because the worms allow Ruth to manage her garbage. The more she composts the less she has to haul down and out into the streets. The worms also keep Ruth’s waste free of odor – most Shield of Faith composters clean out their bins every six months. And of course Ruth’s worms turn the food scraps into mulch that can be sold or added to gardens.

     Composting produces other benefits. The project has purchased scales for each composter and Ruth weighs the leftovers after every meal before adding them to her bins. Collecting data regularly in such conditions requires discipline but produces a sense of accomplishment and a modest income that has paid for Ruth’s new bed.

     Under Stella’s system (“pay to weigh”) each composter receives 800 Kenyan shillings a month to weigh and record the amount she composts. Stella then enters the data into an online “output tracker” that is accessible to our team in the US, volunteers, donors and (if need be) auditors.

     The worms also secrete a highly concentrated liquid, or leachate, that the composters drain from the bottom bin. They have named the leachate Lishe-Grow (“Grow Nutrition” in Swahili) and last year they bottled 522 liters, exceeding all expectations. They sold 42 liters and hope to sell more in 2024.

     Several composters add Lishe-Grow to their kitchen gardens. Stella also plans to use it on a plot of land outside Nairobi that will be converted into a center for cultivation and training later this year.

     *

     All of this is hugely impressive, but the bottom line for Ruth is that she is transforming waste – including even worm poop – into something of value.

     This rounded off my own education. I visited Ruth thinking that the rigmarole of composting – collecting, weighing, binning, reporting, managing worms, and draining leachate – could only add to the pressure on these women.

     I left realizing that nothing could be further from the truth. Composting allows Ruth to manage her home and gives her agency in a cruel environment that robs her of many basic rights and services.

      

     Iain Guest is Director of The Advocacy Project. Tomorrow – The Greening of Kibera

      

     

     Ruth and friend

      

     Stella	Rehema	Maureen
     Irene	Margaret	Fridah
     Esther and daughter Hope	Beldine	Anne
     Agnes	Catherine	Margaret and Iain

      

     *

159. A Foe of Forced Marriage Ties the Knot in Zimbabwe

     January 8, 2024 4:42 pm Leave a Comment

     

      

     When I first met Trish Makanhiwa in 2019 she was reeling from the loss of her mother and terrified that she might be forced to find a rich husband to keep her brother in school and pay the family’s bills.

     This past year was a lot different. Trish, 23, supervised the production of more than 70,000 bottles of soap that earned over $45,000 for vulnerable girls in inner-city Harare as well as providing her with a good salary. Capping the year off in style, Trish married her sweetheart, Alvin (photo above).

     That she has survived and thrived says much about Trish’s strength of character and the resourcefulness of her employer, Women Advocacy Project (WAP), an advocate for women and girls that formed in 2012 to combat child marriage.

     Over the past five years WAP has explored many different ways to protect girls from being pressured into marriage. Selling soap tops the list because it reduces the threat from poverty, but WAP has also trained girls to express their fears through embroidery and volunteer in their communities during the darkest days of the pandemic. The organization has also encouraged girls to think internationally by reaching out to students from American high schools.

     Every activity has been aimed at giving girls the confidence to choose their own path. Trish has been at the center of it all and Constance Mugari, the founder of WAP, gives her credit for WAP’s most singular achievement. Over 300 girls have worked on the soap program since 2019 and not one married below the legal age while she was with WAP.

     Trish’s own marriage, on her own terms, also vindicates Constance’s conviction that the challenge is not marriage itself so much as coercion. “Trish inspires us all,” she told me. A deep friendship now exists between the two women.

     *

     Early marriage in Zimbabwe has long been a target for advocates and in 2016 Zimbabwe’s constitutional court responded by raising the minimum age to 18. Almost 35% of all girls in Zimbabwe are thought to marry before their 18th birthday compared to 2% of boys. This can be extraordinarily dangerous for young girls during pregnancy and puts an abrupt end to their hopes of education.

     The Advocacy Project joined WAP’s campaign in 2018 by recruiting Alex Kotowski, a student at Columbia University and former researcher at Human Rights Watch, to help identify the causes of early marriage. Alex found that one of the worst offenders was a local religious sect known as the White Garment Church, which encourages followers to marry off daughters as young as 12 on the pretext of curbing their sexual activity.

     McLane Harrington from the Fletcher School, our 2019 Peace Fellow at WAP, deepened our understanding by examining traditional Shona practices like Kuripa Ngozi which requires families to give a daughter in marriage to pay off a debt or make amends for a crime.

     As part of her fellowship, McLane also helped eleven girls who were active in WAP’s program to express their fears through embroidery. One young artist, Beauty Tembo, showed a girl who has been driven from home by her parents after becoming pregnant and is contemplating suicide. Such cases were known to the artists. There is real terror behind their images.

     But if traditional practice was part of the problem the main driver behind child and early marriage was also hiding in plain sight, namely poverty.

     Tanatswa Sachiti’s story shows a 16 year-old girl who was left to care for six siblings after her parents died and had no choice but to seek an older husband. Tanatswa herself is unmarried. I visited her home in 2019 and was told that her family earned an average of $5 a day. Under this sort of pressure, it is hardly surprising that many families sell their daughters off to wealthier older men.

     *

     Constance Mugari’s first goal has been to build a culture of peer support for girls. She began by establishing two clubs and selected a tough-minded girl to head each club and serve as an “ambassador” against early marriage. Evelyn Sachiti took the lead in the neighborhood of Chitungwiza, and Trish was elected to head the club in Epworth.

     This approach relied heavily on peer support. The clubs would meet every weekend to discuss marriage and if Trish or Evelyn found that a girl felt threatened, Constance would intervene with her parents. I visited the two ambassadors at home in 2019, and found Evelyn to be bubbly and talkative. Trish was reserved and shy. It was very clear that both were deeply respected by other girls in their groups.

     Having identified poverty as the primary enemy, Constance and her husband Dickson Mnyaci looked for a practical response. They decided on soap, which is easy to make and guaranteed a market. We raised $4,712 through a GlolbalGiving appeal and asked McLane Harrington, our 2019 Peace Fellow to help launch a start-up. WAP hired a soap trainer, came up with a catchy name (Clean Girl) and started selling in local stores known as “tuck shops.”

     By the end of 2019 WAP had sold over 3,000 bottles and when I visited Harare in November, soap-making was in full swing. It was joyous and messy. The girls mixed and bottled their soap in a vacant house before heading out in teams to the tuck shops. Plenty of soap was spilled as bewildered parents looked on.

     I also realized during that visit that nothing boosts confidence so much as persuading someone to buy something you have made. This is central to WAP’s business model, which relies on the girls to find customers, and even the most timid soap-sellers clearly felt the buzz when they made a sale. I filmed Trish bargaining with two traders in 2019 and was pleased when her heroics convinced a US donor to invest in the program.

     *

     COVID-19 tested the resolve of the WAP girls by putting a halt to their soap-making, deepening poverty and increasing the pressure to marry. But it also brought out their creative side.

     The government of Zimbabwe took fright at the prospect of the virus invading overcrowded neighborhoods and imposed one of the most draconian lock-downs in Africa. Women were arrested for trying to collect water. Small traders were violently dispersed. Thieves came out at night.

     Faced by these new threats, the WAP girls returned to story-telling and produced powerful embroidered blocks about lock-down. We assembled the blocks into a quilt and profiled the artists in a 200-page catalogue which I shared with Trish and the other girls last summer, much to their delight.

     Soap-making stopped when the pandemic struck but the WAP girls were restless and Constance spotted an opportunity. She began sewing face-masks while her husband Dickson made soap at home. They also launched an appeal through The Advocacy Project on GlobalGiving which paid for cooking oil. The oil, masks and soap were then assembled into Care packages and distributed to vulnerable households under the direction of Trish and Evelyn. They also mobilized over 200 neighbors to get vaccinated.

     During the pandemic the two ambassadors built a partnership with American students at the Wakefield High School in Arlington Virginia, who were also struggling with the pandemic. The Wakefield students had decided to stitch their own stories of lock-down and the two groups met regularly on Zoom to compare designs and help each other manage their COVID blues. Inspired by the partnership, the Arlington students made their own Clean Girl soap and raised $622 to help with school fees in Zimbabwe.

     *

     Of all WAP’s goals, earning money is most important because it removes the main pressure on girls. The production of Clean Girl soap today bears little resemblance to the inspired experiment of the early years.

     In 2023 WAP produced an impressive 70,162 bottles (compared to 3,000 bottles in 2019) and earned $65,932. Of this, $49,126 was shared between the participating girls. The rest was re-invested in the program.

     This was the result of a production overhaul that began during the pandemic. COVID-19 forced WAP to reduce the number of soap-makers to eight and move production to Constance’s house. Several donors then chipped in with carefully targeted interventions. Together Women Rise helped to pay for soap ingredients. Rockflower funded the construction of a small factory adjacent to Constance’s home, where the soap could be mixed and bottled. Action for World Solidarity in Berlin and FEPA in Switzerland paid for solar panels and a bore-hole that would ensure a regular supply of water.

     The program also benefited from the presence of Dawa Sherpa, our 2022 Peace Fellow, who was born in Nepal and relishes field work. Dawa helped WAP secure a vehicle from the Swiss Embassy, install the solar panels, and improve efficiency by using Google Drive as a virtual office.

     When I visited WAP this past summer, the process was working like clockwork. Trish, Rosemary and Lynes mixed the soap until it was thick and gooey, let it settle in large tubs, and poured it into 750 ml green bottles. The bottles were then shrink-wrapped in packages of six and readied for distribution to the network of young soap-sellers. The three producers receive a salary and transport allowance on top of what they earn from sales – a serious income.

     If the production of soap has become more centralized, the reverse is true of marketing and sales. Ninety-eight girls sold soap across four suburbs in 2023. Under their contract they return 30% of what they earn to WAP to be re-invested in the business, but this has been resisted by some of the poorer parents and Constance is reluctant to apply pressure. This has yet to be resolved, but Trish’s calm presence and standing with the girls clearly helps.

     Last year each girl earned on average $54 a month from their sales. This goes a long way in the neighborhoods but as Constance explained, so many parents are unemployed that the money usually pays for family essentials like food and school fees. Education costs on average $300 a year and is considered sacrosanct because it helps to keep girls out of marriage.

     WAP will never cover all costs as long as the girls take the lion’s share of profits. But $26,716 was re-invested back into the business in 2023 and this covered a third of total costs. The biggest challenge comes from other inner-city soap-makers who sell at cut-throat prices. WAP has responded by using its Swiss vehicle and WhatsApp to reach out to rural areas. The WhatsApp list currently stands at 188 and more customers are signing up every week.

     *

     If the future looks bright for Clean Girl soap, the same is certainly true for Trish Makanhiwa. As her responsibilities have multiplied, Trish has blossomed into a confident, accomplished young woman who is adored by her peers. This was clear when we visited the four clubs last summer. Trish moved among the girls, gently inquiring about their situation, applauding their welcoming dances, collecting soap money and handing out chocolate.

     Trish’s marriage to Alvin was, of course, the highlight of her year and her large circle of admirers saw to it that she would start married life in style. As she showed me around her kitchen, bright with a new fridge and other wedding presents, Trish confessed that she now earns more than her husband. It was said with a twinkle in her eye, of course.

      

     

     Thrill of the sale: Trish (far left) and her team celebrate a soap sale in Epworth in 2019

160. Tribal Dress Code Tempts Mosquitoes

     November 2, 2023 9:34 am Leave a Comment

     

     Rohit, right, with a tribal farmer wearing traditional tribal clothing known as the Vesthi.

     Vesthi has long been a traditional dressing style for the tribal people of Odisha. It consists of a long piece of cotton cloth that is wrapped around the waist and lower body.

     This style of dressing suits the climate because it helps to reduce the heat around the body while the thin fabric keeps the wearer cool.  It is also ideal for agriculture in the paddy fields because it allows the worker to keep dry while standing in deep water and work quickly (which helps him to lose excess weight!).

     Finally, we should note that the Vesthi embodies masculinity and is viewed by some as a symbol of dominance and authority. More often than not the wear of the cloth will also sport a mustache, which he proudly twirls.

     Vesthi has been part of tribal culture for ages, but this way of dressing can also lead to illness and disease, which causes mayhem in the community. Mosquito-borne diseases are particularly dangerous.

     Paddy fields are full of stagnant water and serve as an excellent breeding ground for mosquitos who feast upon the workers. Lacking a proper dress code, the workers fall victim to diseases like malaria, dengue, filariasis, etc.

     It seems obvious, but are the trial communities aware of the threat from these tiny insects?

     Unfortunately no. Often, if a worker gets ill from malaria he will view it as a regular fever and send his family members to the paddy fields where they too will become infected. Of course, they do not need to plant and harvest rice to get stung by mosquitos and fall sick. Making matters worse, they are probably not aware of the risk and fail to seek medical help. This further worsens their sickness and can lead to death.

     Is there any way to bring about a change? The answer is yes. Prevention may be better than cure, but the tribal dress code – to take one example – is deeply embedded in tribal culture. How do we help tribals to change dangerous habits and use safer methods?

     Persuading someone to protect him or herself by covering their body doesn’t seem like a Herculean task. Really, how tough can it be to wear a pair of trousers instead of a piece of cloth? Well, it is hard! These tribal people may be welcoming and caring, but the moment you propound a new lifestyle, they go wild! It’s not about an article of clothing so much as their culture, which is intensely important to them. They identify through their culture and traditions and are proud of them.

     How do we get around this? In my view, by appealing to young tribal people. While young tribals are also proud of their traditions, they are also keen to learn about the modern world. They understand how a style of living might also be dangerous. They are open to suggestions about how a safe lifestyle could go along with respect for the traditions and culture that are vested in their souls. They are also driven by the spark of curiosity. This can be a weapon  in our fight against malaria.

161. Sand Painting and Wall Art Help the Fight Against Malaria

     October 18, 2023 9:38 am Leave a Comment

     

      

     This impressive work of sand art was made by a prominent sand artist who lives in the coastal belt of Puri, Odisha State. It shows how mosquitos are our biggest enemies and silent killers, because they attack during sleep. The art only lasted 24 hours until it was washed away but it attracted a crowd and left a lasting impression!

     The second photo, below, is of a wall painting in one of the ten targeted tribal villages named Kantabada. It shows a mother and her child sleeping under a mosquito net and keeping themselves safe from malaria.

      

     

162. Chariot of Awareness

     October 12, 2023 9:26 am Leave a Comment

     

     Surajita Sahu (left) and Rohit Samal with two JRP interns, in front of the JRP chariot

      

     Many tribal people in Odisha do not have access to formal education and this makes it harder to inform them about the risks associated with mosquitos. As a result, Jeeva Rekha Parisad must find a different vehicle – preferably one that unifies the entire community while also offering a narrative that will capture their imagination. That vehicle is the “Malaria Chariot.”

     The chariot is a compact vehicle adorned with displays about Malaria, that include symptoms, methods of prevention, treatment options, and post-treatment care. These informative materials are presented in the local language, known as Odia, to ensure better understanding and accessibility.

     As the chariot drives around the villages, people gather around to enjoy the exhibition, while at the same time learning about ways to combat malaria and other mosquito-borne diseases. People seem attentive and engaged as they digest the information on the chariot. They are contemplating how a tiny organism can be so dangerous and genuinely want some solutions.

     By bringing people of all ages together under one roof, the malaria chariot also facilitates mass involvement. Those who are educated, especially schoolchildren, explain the chariot to those who are unable to read. This heightens the curiosity of their listeners and makes them determined to learn more. The chariot also gives us all a way to debunk misconceptions by providing evidence and using science. This invites follow-up questions from the audience, which are also met with rational responses.

     Overall, the chariot has proved to be a colossal success and served as our main weapon in the fight against ignorance in the ten tribal villages. If our audience takes the message seriously, malaria can be beaten!

      

163. My Summer at Clean Ocean Access

     October 9, 2023 10:34 pm Leave a Comment

     This summer, as a part of my internship at Clean Ocean Access, I worked at summer camps to teach kids about our local environment and the importance of being environmentally conscious. 

     Every week, I would attend summer camps at the Newport Community School, the YMCA, and FAB Newport. During my time at these camps, we would teach lessons and play games with the kids. Some of the topics of our lessons included the watershed, composting, waste sorting, and noise pollution. 

     My favorite lesson we did was noise pollution at the Newport Community School. We started off the day with playing a game that involved echo-location. We assigned three kids to be our “dolphins”, this meant that they wore blindfolds and relied on their hearing to find their prey. After this, we told the rest of the kids that they were fish. And they all had a squeaky toy to make a sound with. The dolphins had to tag as many fish that they could hear as possible. The kids enjoyed this activity and had a lot of fun. After they all got the hang of it, we added “motor boats”to the game (these were kids that made loud boat noises). This represented noise pollution from boat traffic in the water. During the rounds with motor boats, the dolphins had a difficult time finding their food. At the end of the game, we had a discussion with all of the kids about why it is difficult for dolphins to find food due to noise pollution and how to prevent this. At the end of the day, the kids understood what noise pollution was and why it is bad for sea creatures.

     Another one of my favorite activities we did was teaching kids about composting at the YMCA. We taught the kids that what we do on land affects the sea and the many benefits of composting. We also explained to kids the concept of worm composting and showed them Sarah’s worm bin. At first, the kids were grossed out because of the worms and their “poop”. But we explained to them that the worms helped create the compost because they eat food and poop out castings that benefit soil. At the end of this fun lesson, all of the kids picked up a worm and gave it a name!

     Other days, we met up with camps on the beach and identified sea creatures. At Third Beach, we met up with a FAB Newport Summer camp and walked the beach with the kids. We ended up lifting up tons of rocks and looking for crabs. At the end of the day we caught 57 crabs! Majority of these crabs were Asian Shore Crabs, which are invasive species in Rhode Island. I also showed many kids a really cool trick: if you pick up a periwinkle and hum, it will come out of its shell. This is because the snail thinks the vibration is the tides going out, and they think they need to move closer to the water. 

     I had a ton of fun this summer and got to work with many different groups and organizations across Aquidneck Island. It was really great being able to teach kids in a fun way that helps them understand the important role of keeping our ocean clean. 

164. Monsoon Nemesis

     September 24, 2023 9:25 am Leave a Comment

     

      

     Being a tropical nation, India flourishes in lush greenery. It is also blessed with ample rainfall, which provides a lot of space for agricultural and other farming activities. This is what the people of India have been doing for centuries.

     The state of Odisha is no exception. With an average yearly precipitation over 130 cm. Over 75% of our rains come in the months of June to September.

     The land is home to many farmers, who are heavily dependent on rain because rice requires paddy and paddy fields need a lot of water. But most farmers live in rural and tribal areas and cannot afford farming technology which would help with irrigation and make their lives easier. The monsoon is their only real source of water. So it is not surprising that the first rains are welcomed with pomp, joy and many festivities. It is at the merriest of times.

     At the same time, people are oblivious to the grave danger brought by rain. While the monsoon means fertility, it also brings a surge of infections and diseases.

     Urban communities are sensitized to the threat from water-borne diseases. They know the meaning of prevention and can seek medical treatment provided by the government. Rural areas, however, are more exposed to untimely medical ailments and have less possibilities for treatment. And those most affected are the tribal communities.

     These communities are neglected by the government. Lacking medical support and stern guidance on prevention they are unaware of the diseases that threaten them during the monsoon. This can lead to death.

     Tribal hamlets are mostly located in forests, a part of which is used for agriculture. This dense jungle, flooded with water, is a perfect environment for mosquito-borne diseases. As a result, tribal communities have the highest number of infections from malaria, dengue, and filariasis. People in these communities are completely unaware of these life-threatening illnesses carried by mosquitoes.

     The lack of information also means that tribal people do not consider strategies to address the threat, or adapt their way of live. They are blindfolded and unaware of the grave danger that surrounds them.

165. Raibari Singh – Perseverance and Hope Amidst Adversity

     September 9, 2023 9:35 am Leave a Comment

     Raibari Singh, a 24-year-old married woman, lives in a small dwelling in Krushnanagar village. She shares her humble abode with her husband, Ram Singh, her 79-year-old mother-in-law, and their 3-year-old son.

     Ram Singh has supported his family by working as a daily labourer, heading out for work each morning at 5 o’clock and earning Rs 400 ($4.8) a day. The family’s income is Below Poverty line (BPL), and Raibari supplements their finances by venturing into the forest to gather wood and other forest resources. In addition, she also plants rice in the nearest village, earning Rs200 ($2.4) per day.

     With all these responsibilities, Raibari faced a lot of challenges during her second pregnancy. When she was seven months pregnant, she began experiencing symptoms such as fever, nausea, vomiting, and chills. Despite her discomfort, Raibari initially dismissed these symptoms at the urging of her mother-in-law and well-meaning neighbors who suggested that such experiences were typical during pregnancy.

     The family, including Raibari, chose to neglect the symptoms for almost 15 days. Their attitudes changed when the JRP team reached her house and told her about malaria – its symptoms and remedies. Over the next three days, however, Raibari’s condition got worse. She suffered a high fever of 104 degrees and sudden bleeding. This reminded her of her menstrual cycle and scared her a lot.

     The JRP team had been following Raibari. and suggested that she should visit the hospital and get a thorough examination. Without hesitation, her husband promptly took her to the Community Health Centre (CHC) in Mendhasala. She was admitted following a comprehensive assessment.

     Subsequent tests found that Raibari had contracted the malaria parasite Plasmodium Falciparum, which had also affected her unborn child. Tragically, the child was lost just a day before this diagnosis. Raibari was admitted to the hospital for another month to receive the necessary medical care and treatment.

     In spite of her terrible loss, Raibari had kind words for the JRP team: “I Sincerely thank you to the JRP teams, especially the project coordinator, for their eye-opening information regarding malaria and its prevention.”

166. Humming to the Periwinkles

     September 5, 2023 5:25 pm Leave a Comment

     

     This summer, as a part of my internship at Clean Ocean Access, I worked at summer camps to teach kids about our local environment and the importance of being environmentally conscious.

     Every week, I would attend summer camps at the Newport Community School, the YMCA, and FAB Newport. During my time at these camps, we would teach lessons and play games with the kids. Some of the topics of our lessons included the watershed, composting, waste sorting, and noise pollution.

     My favorite lesson we did was noise pollution at the Newport Community School. We started off the day with playing a game that involved echo-location. We assigned three kids to be our “dolphins”, this meant that they wore blindfolds and relied on their hearing to find their prey. After this, we told the rest of the kids that they were fish. And they all had a squeaky toy to make a sound with. The dolphins had to tag as many fish that they could hear as possible.

     The kids enjoyed this activity and had a lot of fun. After they all got the hang of it, we added “motor boats”to the game (these were kids that made loud boat noises). This represented noise pollution from boat traffic in the water. During the rounds with motor boats, the dolphins had a difficult time finding their food. At the end of the game, we had a discussion with all of the kids about why it is difficult for dolphins to find food due to noise pollution and how to prevent this. At the end of the day, the kids understood what noise pollution was and why it is bad for sea creatures.

     Another one of my favorite activities we did was teaching kids about composting at the YMCA. We taught the kids that what we do on land affects the sea and the many benefits of composting. We also explained to kids the concept of worm composting and showed them Sarah’s worm bin. At first, the kids were grossed out because of the worms and their “poop”. But we explained to them that the worms helped create the compost because they eat food and poop out castings that benefit soil. At the end of this fun lesson, all of the kids picked up a worm and gave it a name!

     Other days, we met up with camps on the beach and identified sea creatures. At Third Beach, we met up with a FAB Newport Summer camp and walked the beach with the kids. We ended up lifting up tons of rocks and looking for crabs. At the end of the day we caught 57 crabs! Majority of these crabs were Asian Shore Crabs, which are invasive species in Rhode Island. I also showed many kids a really cool trick: if you pick up a periwinkle and hum, it will come out of its shell. This is because the snail thinks the vibration is the tides going out, and they think they need to move closer to the water.

     I had a ton of fun this summer and got to work with many different groups and organizations across Aquidneck Island. It was really great being able to teach kids in a fun way that helps them understand the important role of keeping our ocean clean.

167. Passions Can Lead to Change

     August 2, 2023 12:25 am Leave a Comment

     The environmental crisis worsens as time passes, and it seems like there is no hope. News stories about wild fires, polluted air, flash floods and so many more harmful things happening to our planet are frequently seen on our TVs and feeds. How will me using a paper straw at starbucks help these issues? How will me riding a bike rather than my car to work help these issues? How will me doing anything help these issues? How…do we continue to have this mindset? Why are we so pessimistic with this issue?

     We’ve been overwhelmed by the huge crisis at hand, that it’s easy to lose sight of what’s important: we are not powerless. I know It may seem like the solution is in the hands of these big corporations that are doing the most harm, but we are not without responsibility as well. These little changes may seem pointless, but they’re not. A little really does go a long way. But if you want to do more than just the little things, what can you do? If you’re not an environmental activist, how could you make any big impact? Well how do we do most things? We try.

     Whether your passion is teaching, coding, music, art, or anything, you don’t have to feel like you can’t assist this movement in some way. I have a passion for media production specifically through film making, graphic design, and photography, and I used to think I didn’t have the right skill set to make real change, but I do, we all do.

     At my school we focus on developing projects throughout the year through our “real world learning”, or learning through internships. When it came time for me to look for a new internship my sophomore year, I solely focused on finding an internship related to video production and film making, because I knew I was passionate about those things. My search wasn’t going great, so I went to my advisor for advice, and I think what she told me can be applied to more than searching for an internship. She told me to stop limiting my search for sites that were directly related to my interest, and to start searching for sites where I could apply my interest.

     My search then went from looking for film production companies, to looking at every local business and organization I could contact in my community. This led me to Clean Ocean Access.

     At first, I was reluctant to join Clean Ocean Access. It was a non profit organization that focused on environmental advocacy through programs, events, campaigns and more, and I didn’t see a way I could be of help to their organization. Although I was passionate about activism, I only focused on social injustice issues. I had never seen myself as a big environmental advocate, more as a “good civilian who could support the movement”. Regardless, I listened to my advisor’s advice and gave Clean Ocean Access a shot, and I couldn’t have made a better decision.

     My first day I immediately hit it off with my mentor and I had already developed a project idea for that trimester. I would go onto organize a fundraiser for my school’s composting program. I called the fundraiser “Carving for Compost”, and the idea was that I’d contact farms around my state to collect extra pumpkins that were grown during the Halloween season that would otherwise go to rot for a pumpkin carving fundraiser. This derived from the fact that many farms in America mass produce pumpkins for Halloween, and most of them go to waste in our landfills.

     Through this project I harnessed my skills in media production by creating posters, infographics, presentations and more to advertise the fundraiser. This is just one instance out of so many that helped me realize that there were so many ways my skill set could be used to help environmental advocacy efforts.

     Giving Clean Ocean Access a chance not only showed me how my passions could make real change in the environmental movement, but it also helped me find a passion for environmental activism, and to see how I could connect it to my existing interests. You can also find ways to harness your passions to assist the environmental movement, or any movement for that matter. No matter how small the effort may seem, it isn’t pointless. There is every reason not to do something, but don’t let those reasons blind you from why you should at least try. Your passions can lead to change.

168. Dolphin Clean-Up!

     July 25, 2023 1:14 pm Leave a Comment

     

     Emma and the dolphins clean up the Newport beaches

      

     I completed my first week of providing summer camp education at Clean Ocean Access. In the morning, I was able to help with a beach clean up at Easton Beach with Immaculate Conception Church’s summer camp. Later, I educated children at a Aquidneck Island Day Camp about echolocation and noise pollution.

     I did the beach clean up with the help of a great group of elementary to middle school children. The children were very interested in the beach clean-up. They were very excited about getting a trash grabber stick (which I was passing out), and using it to pick up litter. When it came to the clean-up, they were very efficient and collected over 23 pounds of trash. Some interesting items they found were shoes and sunglasses. However, frustratingly, they were unable to get a rope that was stuck in the ground. We had a lot of fun!

     In the afternoon, I educated children at Aquidneck Island Day Camp about echolocation and noise pollution through two games. In the first game, children formed groups of two, and one child would be blind-folded while the other got a clicker. Then the child with the clicker would guide the blind-folded child through cones by communicating through a series of clicks.

     The second game was similar to Marco Polo, but with dolphins and fish. Initially, the dolphins were able to find the fish quite easily. However, after “oil tanks” (the children would make a lot of noise by clapping) came into the ocean, they would make it a lot more difficult for the dolphins to find the fish. The day was split into younger kids (ages 4-7) and older kids (8-12).

     We first had the younger children (ages 4-7). They sometimes had a hard time following directions and some of them didn’t know their right from left (which they needed for the first game). Still, they all had fun. There were two very endearing sibling “dolphins” who would hug when they ran into each other. Several times, the brother remarked “she’s my sister”.

     Next, we had the older group (ages 8-12). The older group was much smaller and they better understood echolocation and noise pollution. They knew their right from left, so the first game went a lot more smoothly! However, during the second game, two of the kids bumped heads and began to cry, so we had to promptly stop the game.

     This first week allowed me to learn the ropes of doing summer camp education. I think that I should improve on being a bit louder and assertive, since the children can have a difficult time listening to directions. I also think that I should work on presenting the information more clearly to younger participants. Overall, I had a lot of fun and I can’t wait for the next time!

169. The Value of Persistence in School Composting

     June 29, 2023 9:57 am 1 Comment

     

     Bella, left, picking up trash on Second Beach in Rhode Island with Sarah Lavallee from Clean Ocean Access.

      

     Composting is a foreign practice to many, which is why I wasn’t surprised to see the struggle of my classmates once I re-implemented a composting program at my school.

     I actually understood how they felt, because the year prior I was in the same position. Freshman year of high school one of my classmates started a composting program at our school for their project, and unsurprisingly it was a bit rocky at the start. Students at my school hadn’t considered sorting their waste after lunch because they hadn’t been exposed to that kind of practice before and unfortunately, it’s much easier to throw everything out at once. I understood it to a degree, because my previous schools always recycled and would sometimes have liquid buckets, but It took time for me to get adjusted to it as well.

     The importance of the situation is a hard thing to grasp as well. The student who started the program gave us presentations on why composting is important in which they shared the impact of food waste in landfills. Many of us had never even thought about any of our waste in the landfill, and this information resonated with many students. I could feel this motivation from some students who truly wanted to change their impact on the environment. Although at the time this just gave me hope and motivation, the next year it would give me drive, passion and an inclination to take action.

     At the start of my sophomore year I started an internship with Clean Ocean Access, which was the same site the student who had started the composting program the previous year was a part of. It was a new path for me so it was a bit intimidating at first, but soon that intimidation was turned into comfort and excitement.

     My first day of my internship went great, and proved to be the start of an amazing journey. My first mission was to begin re-implementing the compost program at my school. Going into this task I was confident it was going to be quick and easy, but soon I’d find that it was far from that.

     This process began with a lot of communication and back and forth from my school, Clean Ocean Access, and the compost hauling company we’d be working with. Unfortunately, this step became difficult due to lack of communication and elements out of our control. We would discuss something with one person, and we’re told we would have to refer to another person, which was a cycle that repeated many times. This was fine at first, but once we had to contact the person that handled the finances for our school, we came to a standstill. It was hard to get a response from this person, and it made an already difficult situation more difficult. These months of back and forth would lead to the program only being re-implemented for the last half of the school year. Starting something this big into a school can be a taxing process, but being patient and persistent will pay off in the end.

     During this long process of starting the program again, I didn’t pause the crucial efforts I needed to commit to in order to prepare my classmates to properly sort their waste. I organized presentations about sorting waste, and the importance of composting. These presentations created a good momentum for the first few weeks, but of course it’s hard to keep high schoolers committed to a practice that is more of an effort than they had to commit to before.

     During these first few weeks I would also take the last few minutes of lunch to stand by the compost bin to sort misplaced waste and weigh the waste at the end for our school’s data. This not only benefited our composting program to measure our impact and double check it was properly sorted, but it also gave my classmates the opportunity to ask me questions and I could encourage them to commit to sorting their waste. This process also taught me to be patient and persistent, because with time sorting waste will become second nature to my fellow classmates.

     My second priority after starting to re-implement the program was to raise money for the program. I started this task by organizing a fundraiser at the beginning of the school year. This fundraiser was a seasonal one that focused on the impact of pumpkins being mass produced in the country. It was held in November so we could gather the pumpkins that were not used during the Halloween season and have a pumpkin carving event for students and kids in the community.

     I began organizing the event by contacting local farms and businesses to see if they expected to have an excess of pumpkins. I contacted business after business and farm after farm, and didn’t have much luck. Fortunately, I kept trying and I soon found two places that would provide me with all the pumpkins I needed. I then started to plan out the logistics of the event with my school’s staff and my mentor at Clean Ocean Access. After I had that all figured out I started to spread the word about the event to my school and to local community organizations. I attend a very small school, so unfortunately I didn’t get a large outcome from my school, but I received many donations from the community organizations I had reached out to. The pumpkin carving fundraiser, or what I called, “Carving for Compost” was a success! We raised over $100 dollars for the program, which in the grand scheme of things may not seem like a lot, but It was a huge success considering we didn’t spend any money on the event itself.

     After this fundraising event, I just continued to be persistent with data collection and encouraging my peers to sort their waste. I cannot stress enough how important this step is. Through my internship at Clean Ocean Access I’ve helped my mentor with helping other schools that were starting composting programs, or have had one for a while. Through this work I realized the importance of being persistent with students in teaching about waste sorting.

     This importance became apparent to me when I started making connections between how each grade would do with starting a composting program, and how well they would adapt. I noticed that more often than not, the younger grades would do much better with composting than older grades. The elementary school students would often be patient and very receptive to our advice, and older grades were often more stubborn. The element of the situation that solidified my inkling that being persistent with students learning about waste sorting is important was when I began to help the students at a middle school with their program. These students had told me themselves that the younger students did better with composting than the older ones, and they even had the data to prove it.

     The conclusion they had come to from that observation was they were better at it because they had started composting in elementary school. Many of those younger students attended an elementary school that had exposed them to composting prior to coming to this middle school. It was clear that because they had already been composting for a couple of years in elementary before coming to this new school, they were used to doing it. This is why I’ve heavily focused on being persistent with my peers.

     Although all of this work has been difficult at many times, the outcome is eternally worth it. Through my data collection I’ve found that my school of about 130 students produced over 300 pounds of food waste in 6 months of composting. For four days of our school week only half of the students are in school because we focus on real world learning, or learning through internships at my school. So 300 pounds may not seem like a lot, but considering the size of my school and the amount of students who aren’t in school throughout the week, it is a lot of food waste. This issue is very apparent when you look at traditional public schools, for example, the middle school I worked with had 204 students that produced over 2,000 pounds of food waste this past school year.

     If we want to see a better future for our environment come to fruition, we have to take these steps, and composting is an amazing first step.

170. Composting at Barrington High School, RI

     June 27, 2023 2:40 pm 1 Comment

     

     Emma, right, records garbage collected on Second Beach, Middletown, RI under the watchful eye of team leader Sarah Lavallee from Clean Ocean Access.

      

     Over the summer of 2022, I learned of an ordinance in Rhode Island that would mandate composting in schools starting on January 1st, 2023. I wanted our school to follow this mandate so I began to research ways to integrate composting into our school. By the time that school began again, a couple other students and I proposed this idea to our principal and began to work with our Environmental club to see it executed by January.

     Originally, we wanted to have a composting organizer in our school cafeteria with dividers, however, this plan needed to be altered to meet the requests of the administration. We had altered our plan so that, rather than having organized dividers, we started off small with only a few bins scattered around the cafeteria. While it may have taken a lot of time to get to the point where we could actually implement composting in the school cafeteria, the execution provided its own challenges.

     Since high school students are known to have difficulty with new instructions, we were worried that without dividers they wouldn’t compost at all. To make this work, we realized that we would need to advertise and monitor composting. We created a system of monitoring the composting bins. For the past 6 months, we have been able to get about half a 5 gallon bucket of compost each day (around 300 gallons). All of the food scraps we get from our cafeteria goes to a local farm where it will be used in their fields. While we had been advocating for a composting system for almost a year, we have still yet to meet our goals. Although our school district has said that in the 2023-2024 school year that they would implement our original compost dividers plan, we know that our work isn’t over.

     While the process has been difficult at times, its importance to our community has made it worthwhile.

      

     

     Spreading the word at Portsmouth High School

171. Composting at Barrington High School, RI

     12:31 pm Leave a Comment

      

     

     Emma, right, records garbage collected on Second Beach, Middletown, RI under the watchful eye of team leader Sarah Lavallee from Clean Ocean Access.

     Over the summer of 2022, I learned of an ordinance in Rhode Island that would mandate composting in schools starting on January 1st, 2023. I wanted our school to follow this mandate so I began to research ways to integrate composting into our school. By the time that school began again, a couple other students and I proposed this idea to our principal and began to work with our Environmental club to see it executed by January. 

     Originally, we wanted to have a composting organizer in our school cafeteria with dividers, however, this plan needed to be altered to meet the requests of the administration. We had altered our plan so that, rather than having organized dividers, we started off small with only a few bins scattered around the cafeteria. While it may have taken a lot of time to get to the point where we could actually implement composting in the school cafeteria, the execution provided its own challenges. 

     Since high school students are known to have difficulty with new instructions, we were worried that without dividers they wouldn’t compost at all. To make this work, we realized that we would need to advertise and monitor composting. We created a system of monitoring the composting bins. For the past 6 months, we have been able to get about half a 5 gallon bucket of compost each day (around 300 gallons). All of the food scraps we get from our cafeteria goes to a local farm where it will be used in their fields. While we had been advocating for a composting system for almost a year, we have still yet to meet our goals. Although our school district has said that in the 2023-2024 school year that they would implement our original compost dividers plan, we know that our work isn’t over. 

     While the process has been difficult at times, its importance to our community has made it worthwhile. 

      

172. Fight to the Finish

     June 26, 2023 10:19 am 2 Comments

     Do you recall the excitement from watching a favorite childhood movie in which the underdogs race against the clock, defy all odds, and somehow manage to triumph? Well, that’s what happened this week here in Nairobi. Unfortunately, we learned on Saturday that Merry, one of our key players in the sewing training, tested positive for COVID-19. Although her symptoms were very minimal, this meant she had to self-isolate and miss the first two days of our four-day training session. Bobbi, Stella, and I were all at a loss for words! Our goal of completing 25 tote bags for the online store, Southern Stitchers, now seemed impossible.

     Despite this major setback, Bobbi, Stella, and I set our sights on making the training as smooth as possible. We even had a breakthrough on Monday when we met with Gladys, founder of a woven textile company, to see how she could use our ladies’ embroidery talents on her products and thus provide the ladies with a consistent source of income. The three of us met with Gill, AP’s quilting consultant here in Nairobi, to visit Gladys’s warehouse. We were all immediately impressed! I, for one, had never seen weaving equipment quite like this. I’m not even sure I’ve ever seen weaving equipment! Gladys’s aptitude for business was evident in her advanced operation. Needless to say, her products were beautiful! From the meeting, Gladys conveyed that she was seeking local embroiderers who can add to her fabrics. This would be an incredible opportunity for the Kangemi and Kibera ladies, who normally live on a hand-to-mouth basis. We expect more meetings to follow, but we hope our local colleagues can now take the lead!

     

     One of the 14 looms in Gladys’s warehouse.

     We commenced the second and final week of sewing training on Wednesday. In compliance with the CDC’s updated COVID-19 guidelines, Merry was isolated for five days, which meant we had to start without her. This was nerve-racking! Fortunately, all the ladies made it through the sewing machine on the first day, so they were able to get familiar with the machine. On Day 2, I knew Bobbi would need all the help she could get! All the ladies now had to make their pockets to later sew onto their bags. Even though I hadn’t touched a sewing machine in 10 years, I was happy to learn that using a sewing machine is much like riding a bike. Once you learn, it’s hard to forget! I closely watched Bobbi as she demonstrated how to sew the pockets so that I could assist others. I was so proud of myself when I successfully sewed a pocket along with my friend Esther! 

     

     Esther and I are proud of our creation!

     Luckily, Merry was feeling well enough to join us masked on Friday. This was great because we needed her skills! Friday was big because we had to get all the pockets and straps sewn onto the bags. By the end of the day, we weren’t even halfway through. Our goal was starting to seem more and more out of reach! To top it all off, we learned late on Friday night that we had to be out of the venue by 2 pm on Saturday, which is several hours earlier than we were expecting. At that point, we truly needed a miracle to finish all the bags.

     On Saturday morning, Bobbi, Merry, and I resigned ourselves to the fact that we were probably only going to be able to get a handful of bags finished. As the day went on, however, it became clear that the miracle we were all praying for was coming true. The ladies were all powering through the sewing machines! I even had to make a quick trip to the shopping center for more thread. By the end of the day, we had finished all but one of the bags for a grand total of 17! We now had 33 bags altogether, surpassing our goal of 25. This truly shows what the determination of a strong group of women can accomplish!

     

     Smiling because we beat the odds and surpassed our goal!

     After a long two weeks of sewing training, I’m happy to now have the time to catch my breath, catch up on emails, and write my blogs. On Sunday, I even had the opportunity to celebrate my 22nd birthday Kenyan-style here in Nairobi. I couldn’t have asked for a better way to celebrate my birthday: surrounded by friends, great food, and a lively atmosphere. Today is Bobbi’s and Merry’s last day here in Nairobi, and I’m going to miss their company. Hopefully, by the time I see them next, I’ll have mastered the basic embroidery stitches and have progressed to more complex designs. Time can only tell!

     

     Me, Bobbi, Merry, and Stella right before enjoying some much-deserved Chinese food on Saturday night.

173. Composting at Portsmouth High School

     June 23, 2023 3:56 pm 2 Comments

     

     Maggie, right, collects skanky waste, including cigarette butts, from the Second Beach at Middletown, Rhode Island. Maggie is seen with two other high school composters who are serving as Peace Fellows this summer, Emma (center left) and Bella. Sarah Lavallee from Clean Ocean Access is coordinating the team and is seen bagging Maggie’s stuff. Every piece is noted down by Emma.

      

     During the first Green Club meeting of my junior year of high school, Sarah Lavallee from Clean Ocean Access (COA) attended and presented about the Healthy Soils Healthy Seas Rhode Island Initiative (HSHSRI) and other volunteering opportunities. The HSHSRI program caught my eye, as it aims to reduce food waste through composting. After learning about the program and the opportunity to be an intern at COA, I applied right away.

     I began to intern at the COA office a few days a week where I learned more about HSHSRI and the steps I would need to take to successfully implement this program at my school. Before this, I had an idea of what composting was, as my family composted for a few years before, but I was a little unsure as to whether or not my entire school would be able to compost properly.

     I knew that composting might be a challenge to bring to Portsmouth High School (PHS), especially in the lunchroom where hundreds of rushed teenagers dispose of their waste in a matter of minutes before getting back to class. I thought about it for a while, and at a school with over 800 kids, composting could make a pretty large impact. This motivated me to get started!

     With Sarah’s help, I began to carry out the steps I needed to take to successfully begin this project. First, I reached out to members of the Green Club and our advisor Mr. Arsenault. I met with them and asked if they would be on board and willing to help out along the way. After this, I contacted the PHS principal and met with her to discuss this initiative. Following this meeting, I met with the janitors to explain to them the changes that we were making in the lunchroom and made sure they were okay with taking out an extra bag of waste to be picked up by Black Earth Compost, a private compost hauling company.

     After meeting with everyone and getting approval, I worked with the Green Club and began brainstorming engaging ways to inform our school on composting. We decided that a presentation and a skit would effectively help our school understand how to compost. So, I secured dates for a school-wide assembly and I split everyone into groups and gave them jobs to do. Some kids worked on writing the skit, while others made props. We also had people working on the presentation and publicizing this project. I even got our school’s theater club involved, as they were the ones to be acting during the performance.

     When the day of the assembly came, I was very nervous as to how our school would react. I hoped that our skit would keep kids attentive, while the presentation would bring meaning and purpose as to why we are doing this.

     It was a success! Students loved the skit and ended up being curious about the program. Many kids asked questions and were talking about it the entire day.

     The first few days of composting in the lunchroom were difficult. Kids were throwing trash in the compost, not knowing that it would contaminate it. We tried our best by standing next to the waste station and helping sort out what goes into “landfill”, “recycle”, or “compost”. Eventually, kids knew where to put most of their waste. However, items like cardboard trays or milk cartons often ended up being misplaced. The most common misconception was that these could be composted, but unfortunately, there was a coating on these that made them unable to compost.

     Some solutions we tried were closing the compost bin so kids would have to open it to actually compost (we thought it might stop the kids rushing and accidentally dropping trash in the compost) and making signs that said “No Milk Cartons!” This worked a little bit, but at the end of the school day, I would check the bin and still find trash. So, I resorted to making BIG signs that said “Food Only!” and I made sure words got around quickly.

     Surprisingly, this worked! I was barely finding any trash in the compost and the milk cartons were gone. This meant that I could begin weighing the compost and having accurate data.

     For the last eight weeks of school, I weighed the compost every Tuesday and recorded it. Portsmouth High School diverted approximately 370 lbs of food waste from the RI Landfill.

     Now, composting is the new normal at my school and the Portsmouth School District will begin composting in all of its schools next year. I look forward to continuing to encourage kids to compost next year. This is super exciting and I am happy that I started the foundation for this composting system in my school’s lunchroom.

      

     

     The Green Club at Maggie’s school, Portsmouth High, put on a skit about composting which was a huge success and persuaded students to request composting from the school administration. Maggie hopes to share her experience with other Fellows this summer.

174. Families Of The Disappeared Challenge Human Rights Watch In Nepal

     June 22, 2023 1:16 pm Leave a Comment

     

     Tej Bahadur Bhandari (right), a former teacher and campaigner for social justice, was detained by police in Nepal on December 31, 2001 and disappeared. His son Ram says that families of the disappeared need material support and recognition more than the punishment of perpetrators.

      

     In a dispute with profound implications for human rights, families of those who disappeared during the 10-year conflict in Nepal have accused international human rights organizations of putting international law before the needs of victims and trying to derail a government plan to investigate the fate of their missing loved ones.

     As well as exposing a deep difference in strategy and priorities between two allies, the dispute challenges the conventional wisdom that countries emerging from conflict or repression must first bring perpetrators to justice if the wounds are to heal.

     The rift has arisen over a recent government proposal to prosecute four heinous crimes that occurred during the war – torture, rape, summary killings and disappearances – before a special court. All other violations would be referred to Nepal’s legal system and could be liable for an amnesty.

     The plan would also revive two commissions that were set up in 2015 to promote truth and reconciliation and investigate disappearances but were widely criticized before they lapsed.

     The new package was denounced on March 23 by Human Rights Watch from Geneva as a contravention of international law that would “protect abusers not victims.” Human Rights Watch also claimed to have the backing of Nepali victims and their families, noting that 42 Nepali groups had issued a statement on March 15 opposing the government proposal.

     This drew a rebuke from Ram Kumar Bhandari, a prominent survivor and advocate who formed the Network of Families of the Disappeared (NEFAD) after his own father was detained by police and disappeared on December 31, 2001. The Advocacy Project has partnered with NEFAD since 2015.

     Speaking from Kathmandu, Mr Bhandari said that over 25 of the 42 Nepali groups have disavowed the March 15 statement and formed a new coalition, the National Network of Victims and Survivors of Serious Human Rights Violations, to negotiate with the government.

     The new group has issued its own demands and met twice with Nepal’s Prime Minister. The fact that survivors are speaking with one voice and are listened to with respect by the government meets one of their key demands, which is to control their own agenda and be recognized, said Mr Bhandari.

     “External actors must not be allowed to derail this process,” he said, adding that his group will publicly denounce such “spoilers” if they continue. “We have been talking about transitional justice for seventeen years. It is time for action.”

     *

     The conflict in Nepal was sparked by a Maoist rebellion in 1996 and claimed over 18,000 lives before it ended in 2006 with a ceasefire followed by a comprehensive peace agreement. The government has named 1,512 Nepalis who disappeared, although the actual number is probably nearer 2,500.

     The peace agreement called for transitional justice, but prosecutions have been ruled out by the Nepal army and police, whose forces were responsible for most disappearances and killings.

     Similar tensions have complicated the transition to peace in many countries, but Mr Bhandari said that accountability is more of a problem for lawyers than survivors in Nepal.

     While advocates worry about the threat to international law from impunity, he said, families are still coping with grief and social exclusion in their communities, where many were suspected of collusion with the rebels. Many are from the Tharu, one of the most marginalized minorities in Nepal, and were thrust deeper into poverty by the disappearance of the family breadwinner.

     These pressures play out in villages far from Kathmandu and have produced a deep craving for the truth, social recognition and material support, said Mr Bhandari. Yet such needs are generally ignored by “legal elites” in the capital.

     “My mother is not interested in international norms,” he said. “She wants to know how she will find her next meal.”

     Mr Bhandari said that several provisions in the government package address the needs of survivors and have been welcomed by families. One will ensure the right to reparations. Another will allow widows to reclaim property that belonged to their late husbands.

     “We do not want these to be lost in this confrontation over accountability,” said Mr Bhandari.

     *

     The rift between survivors and human rights groups has exposed a profound difference in strategy as well as priorities. While the groups are using traditional advocacy to denounce the government, survivors have chosen political engagement at the national level and in districts.

     In Kathmandu this means negotiating with Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal, who led the Maoist uprising in 1996 and is deeply suspect to many human rights advocates. Some have called for his prosecution by the International Criminal Court for crimes committed by Maoists during the war.

     While Nepalis remember the suffering caused by the Maoists, this is Mr Dahal’s third spell as Prime Minister, which suggests that he has broad support in the country and may hold out the best hope for a compromise over transitional justice. In addition, the government recently sent a delegation to study Colombia’s transition from civil war to peace, which is widely seen as a success.

     Outside Kathmandu the new network of survivors is also pushing for the election of family-members to local government in areas that suffered a high number of disappearances. Several have succeeded in getting money allocated for memorials and even introduced the narrative of survivors into school textbooks. Such moves boost the confidence of survivors in their communities and address their need for recognition.

     The network is also encouraging children of the disappeared to become politically active, said Mr Bhandari. This is modeled on HIJOS, an association for children of those who disappeared in Argentina.

     *

     Although legal accountability may not be his first objective, Mr Bhandari has demanded justice repeatedly and even publicly accused three senior officials of being responsible for the disappearance of his own father. He also noted that the new network of survivors has called for an investigation at army bases where the bodies of victims are thought to be buried.

     “Of course, we are not against justice,” he said. “The question is how to achieve it without losing everything else.”

     One answer could lie with the two commissions, on truth and disappearances. The commissions were set up in 2015 and were widely denounced for being ineffective and politicized before they lapsed. Human Rights Watch has pointed out that they received over 60,000 complaints and failed to launch a single investigation.

     But the government will shortly name new commissioners and Mr Bhandari appealed for international support to ensure that they are independent and representative of survivors. This offers the best hope that the commissions will reflect the survivors’ experience, insist on generous compensation, support innovative forms of commemoration, and produce credible reports.

     The two commissions will also have the power to recommend prosecutions for the most serious crimes to the Attorney General and even appeal decisions to the Supreme Court.

     Much can be done if there is the political will, said Mr Bhandari. And as family members gain more power locally, it is even conceivable that village councils could call for the exhumation of bodies and name perpetrators within their jurisdictions.

     “We won’t know until we try,” said Mr Bhandari. “But after 17 years of frustration, this may be our last best chance.”

     This is the second of two articles on transitional justice. Click here for the article on Uganda.

175. Lions and Tigers and… Giraffes?!

     June 9, 2023 11:09 am Leave a Comment

     Ever since I was a little girl, I have always felt a spiritual connection with nature and wildlife. For some, nature has a certain healing property. On Sunday, I felt the full power of those healing properties when Shield of Faith’s Project Coordinator Stella and her daughter Zawadi took me to Nairobi’s Safari Walk. Although I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, the experience certainly surpassed any and all expectations I could’ve had. 

     

     Me and Stella at the entrance of the Safari Walk.

     Immediately upon entering, we saw a pygmy hippopotamus. Already, I was encountering animals I had never seen before, and in some instances, never even knew existed. For example, have you ever heard of a colobus monkey? Never had I until Sunday. The black-and-white colobuses are characterized by their luscious locks that hang all over their body. The monkeys I saw had better hair than I do! Stella told me how, traditionally, certain ethnic groups in Kenya used the fur of the colobus monkey to make hats and clothes. Today, these beautiful creatures are threatened by habitat loss. In fact, many species in Kenya are threatened by habitat loss. This knowledge convinced me even further of the importance of Shield of Faith’s work, promoting sustainability through environmentally-friendly waste management and composting practices in informal settlements one step at a time. 

     

     The pygmy hippo enjoying lunch!

     

     The colobus monkey showing off its beautiful hair.

     Stella, Zawadi, and I lucked out because we arrived at the Safari Walk right when the animals were being fed, which made for prime viewing angles. Luck was certainly in our favor that day because we even had the opportunity to feed a baby giraffe! The giraffe was being moved from one enclosure to the next, and the Kenya Wildlife Service employees allowed us and other visitors to come in close contact with the giraffe. Clearly, this giraffe was not fazed by crowds of humans as it strolled right through us, stopping for treats along the way. It truly was the experience of a lifetime! After seeing the giraffe, Stella and Zawadi started joking that I was their “good luck charm” because we were having such special encounters with the animals! 

     

     Me feeding the giraffe. Contrary to the look on my face, I was overjoyed!

     As we neared the exit to the Safari Walk, we noticed several people having their photographs taken wearing traditional Maasai clothing. After asking one of the photographers, we learned that they were taking the photos for visitors at only a small fee. Of course, Stella, Zawadi, and I couldn’t NOT have our photos taken! The photographer dressed me in the traditional Maasai clothing, and I’ve never felt more beautiful! With each new day, I’ve had the opportunity to learn more and more about the various ethnic groups in Kenya and their vibrant cultures. It was a great way to end a day spent in nature, surrounded by such beautiful creatures, each a steward of Mother Nature’s goodwill. I look forward to spending more time immersed in the Kenyan flora and fauna over these coming weeks.

     

     Me and Zawadi in traditional Maasai clothing.

176. Karibu Kenya!

     June 2, 2023 3:54 pm 1 Comment

     Comfort zones are like rubber bands. The more you stretch them, the less likely they are to return to their normal size. Although some people might see a stretched-out rubber band as damaged, the reverse is true for comfort zones. The bigger the better. That’s what I’ve learned this week in Kenya. With each new day, I’ve set out to make my rubber band just a little bit bigger.  

     Let me set the scene for you. It’s shortly after midnight in the early hours of Saturday, May 27th, and I just deboarded my 8-hour long flight from London to Nairobi. Although I arrive three hours later than planned, I am full of curiosity (and exhaustion) as I make my way through Jomo Kenyatta International Airport’s immigration, bag collection, and customs. By the time I take the airport taxi to my Airbnb, I’m running on pure adrenaline. Traveling always finds a way to do that to a person, doesn’t it? It exhausts you but energizes you at the same time. I’ve always found travel to be an enticing paradox, one that drains us but that we somehow can’t live without. At least I can’t. 

     Case in point: after a quick rest, I was quickly introduced to that warm Kenyan hospitality I’ve heard so much about. Stella, Shield of Faith Project Coordinator and my mentor for the summer, sent over a hot breakfast and a taxi to meet me for lunch at Gill’s house, a friend and key implementer for Advocacy Project’s embroidery activities here in Kenya. I was introduced to Gill’s husband, daughter Camille, and (to my surprise and happiness) their wonderful two dogs. Although I was running on fumes and feeling the onset of homesickness, this little guy (pictured below) reminded me of my dogs at home and put a smile on my face. (Side note: we truly don’t deserve dogs.) 

     Otto being a good boy.

     Shortly after, Stella arrived and greeted me with a hug and a warm “Karibu” (the Swahili word for welcome). I was soon thrown into the realm of vermiculture composting! Camille showed us her pristinely-kept gardens, and Stella gave her composting bins a check-up. To everyone’s delight, Camille’s bins were displaying all good signs: healthy red wriggling worms and a slow but steady production of the liquid fertilizer Lishe-grow. As someone with absolutely no green thumb (I actually had to throw out my two dead houseplants before leaving), this was all so new to me. 

      

     

     ½ of Camille’s garden.

     

     Worm food!

     If there’s one thing my professors have taught me, it’s the importance of taking on an observer’s perspective while learning the ins and outs of a new project in a new country. This is what I’ve tried to practice the past few days. While at Gill’s, I learned so much about what makes a healthy composting bucket just by watching Stella and Camille pull the bucket apart and inspect all the worms. I’ve been a student my whole life, and this summer is going to put my learning skills to the test!

     The next few days were spent getting settled in, with several trips to the local Quickmart, Foodplus, and Carrefour. Finally on Wednesday, Stella put me to work. She and I visited her friend Betty, whose housekeeper Emily had been collecting 5-liter jerry cans to sell to the project. Betty and her daughter Lavender greeted us with warm hugs and, of course, cups of tea. Despite it being the first time meeting me, they welcomed me into their home as if they had known me for years. After a few minutes’ conversation, the time came for me to complete my first task: recording an interview between Stella and Emily about the jerry cans and their significance for the project (more on this below!) As the following day was Kenya’s Madaraka (Self-Governance) Day, this gave Stella and I a chance to travel to Kibera where a majority of the project’s activities take place and put these jerry cans to use!  

     

     Stella and Emily exchanging jerry cans. 

     Thursday morning I woke up early to go to Kibera with Stella and meet with two members of Shield of Faith. We checked on one garden and even harvested some excess veggies to bring home! As I write this, several bunches of organic spring onion and leeks are sitting in my kitchen, all thanks to the project. Even though I’ve only been in Kenya for a few days, I’ve already benefited from the amazing vegetables grown in Kibera, so I can only imagine the benefits this project brings to Shield of Faith members. In Kibera, where food insecurity is high, every little bit counts. 

     The majority of our time in Kibera that day was spent with Shield of Faith member Carol and her two neighbors on whose land the three women grow and share vegetables. This is where our jerry cans came in handy. Stella used these cans to construct a vertical tower garden, which makes the most out of the little arable land available in Kibera. I sat with the other 3 women meticulously cutting the jerry cans so that the vegetables could be planted inside and evenly watered throughout. It was hard work, but sitting around with the women who were speaking Swahili and smiling and laughing brought me a lot of joy. Even though I wasn’t able to speak the language (Duolingo has failed me), I felt a strong connection just being there- our attention all fixated on the same task. The women were all so kind to me, making sure I didn’t accidentally cut myself or even offering up their seats for me to sit in the shade. I’m not sure I’ll ever get over this Kenyan hospitality! After only a few hours, I was completely exhausted but proud of myself for having completed another adventure.     

     

     

     Me and the ladies cutting up the jerry cans.

     

     Constructing the tower gardens and planting them with spinach!

     So now, as I sit on my balcony overlooking the Kenyan sunset, I look at my rubber band comfort zone, and I reflect on my first week. I’d be lying if I said there weren’t times when I felt sad or lonely. But a wise friend once told me that with discomfort comes growth. The little rubber band I brought with me looks nothing like it did before; it’s grown at least twice its original size. But I’m glad. Unlike rubber bands, comfort zones won’t break if you continue to stretch them. They’ll continue to grow and grow for the better. So with each new day here in Kenya, I’ll continue growing that rubber band, and hopefully I’ll grow along with it. 

     

177. Ugandan War Survivors Describe Forced Pregnancy and Marriage

     May 14, 2023 9:42 am Leave a Comment

      

      

     

      

     Years later, when Margaret Akello used embroidery to describe her years of captivity by Ugandan rebels, she showed a desperate woman being savaged by a lion, as seen in the photo.

     The powerful image is part allegory and part fact. The possibility of being attacked by wild animals in the jungle was ever-present. So was the threat of rape from her captors.

     Ms Akello is one of thousands of women who were abducted as girls and forced into sexual slavery by fighters from the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), a rebel movement that devastated northern Uganda between 1987 and 2006. She is also one of ten survivors who have told their stories through stitching.

     Several stories were displayed recently at the Cardozo Law Institute in Holocaust and Human Rights in New York during a meeting to review the case of Dominic Ongwen, a former LRA commander who has been sentenced to 25 years in prison by the International Criminal Court.

     The court found Ongwen guilty on 61 counts, including 19 counts of sexual and gender-based crimes. His sentence was confirmed on December 15 last year by the ICC Appeals Chamber, which has also invited submissions from legal experts about the implications of the case for international criminal law.

     These formed the basis for the recent meeting, which brought together feminist lawyers, experts in transitional justice, and two survivors of LRA atrocities.

     The embroidered stories offered a dramatic backdrop to the legal arguments. They were presented by Victoria Nyanyjura, one of 139 female students abducted by LRA fighters from St Mary’s College in the village of Aboke on October 10, 1996. The crime attracted international attention after Sister Rachele Fassera, deputy headmistress at the school, followed the rebels and persuaded them to release 109 girls. The remaining 30 girls, including Ms Nyanyjura, spent years in captivity. Five have since died.

     Following her own escape, Ms Nyanyjura formed Women in Action for Women (WAW), an association for women survivors of sexual violence, and requested support for embroidery training for her group from The Advocacy Project. The stories were stitched in July 2021 and turned into quilts in the US. They can be seen here with profiles of the artists.

     Describing herself as an “activist and peace-builder,” Ms Nyanyjura praised the Cardozo institute for inviting survivors to the recent meeting, and asked for more regular contact between survivors and legal experts in future.

     Survivors offer essential context and reliable partnerships, she said: “Listening here you can tell we are all in this together. If you work with people really affected you will ensure the sustainability of peace. NGOs will come and go. (We) are going nowhere.”

     *

     The use of sex slaves was central to the LRA’s war strategy and is depicted in excruciating detail by the WAW artists. Once in captivity, girls were distributed among LRA fighters and subjected to what the ICC charge describes as “forced conjugal relations.” The case against Ongwen centered on his treatment of seven “wives.”

     According to a report by CAP International and Watye Ki Gen (‘We Have Hope’), an organization for survivors in Uganda, captive girls who had not reached the age of menstruation were known as “ting tings” and supposed to be exempt from molestation.

     But this did not save Mary Atim, a WAW artist who was nine when she was abducted and given to a rebel. Ms Atim was then beaten by the man’s older wives and made to wash clothes. Grace Awor, another artist, depicted her own rape by a rebel in graphic detail.

     Although relationships were intimate and prolonged many survivors never learned the names of their husbands, who used code names to avoid being identified. Most of the men died from disease or battle.

     The threat of death, exhaustion or injury was always present. Judith Adong’s story shows a woman carrying a heavy load while an armed fighter pushes her forward with a machete. One of Christine Akumu’s stories shows someone stepping on a landmine left by retreating rebels.

     *

     Returning to normal life has created new problems by forcing the women to fall back on their own resources, often without the support of family or friends.

     After escaping, many faced stigma and suspicion when they arrived home with their children and several sought new partners, only to be abandoned again. Christine Akumu was so desperate that she moved in with the brother of her rebel “husband.” She gave birth to two more children before being driven from the home.

     Forced pregnancy has left indelible scars on the mothers and children. Past conflicts have highlighted the anguish of women who gave birth following rape and were torn between loving their children and living with a visible reminder of their ordeal. The WAW artists express nothing but love. Christine Akumu’s three children wanted to go to school, she explains, but she could not pay for their school fees. This has left them “bitter.”

     As for the children themselves, Angela Atim Lakor from Watye Ki Gen told the meeting that most lack ID cards because their fathers cannot be identified. In addition, many were probably born in the jungle outside Uganda. This has made it even harder for them to attend school.

     Adding to the anxiety, many survivors have found themselves living near former LRA fighters who have benefited from a Ugandan government amnesty. Several WAW artists still suffer from injuries they sustained in the jungle, and some even carry bullet fragments. Grace Awor’s wound has never been properly treated and is still leaking pus.

     In spite of everything, the survivors are remarkably free from anger. Asked how she felt about Ongwen’s 25-year prison term, Ms Nyanyjura noted that Ongwen had been a victim himself because he had been abducted by the LRA at the age of nine before rising through the ranks. His sentence struck the right balance between justice and compassion, she said, while expressing the hope that this would ease Ongwen’s own reintegration into his village when he leaves prison.

     *

     Summing up the challenges that face survivors in a keynote address at the recent meeting Beth Van Schaack, the US Ambassador-at-Large for Global Criminal Justice, noted that the path to recovery is constantly changing and that every woman’s experience is unique. This, she said, called for a creative, flexible response.

     Of all the different approaches, the legal option may be most clear-cut.

     Before Ongwen, sexual and gender-based crimes had been barely tested in an international court of law. Two celebrated decisions by the international tribunals on Rwanda and the Former Yugoslavia established that rape in war can be an act of genocide and a form of torture.

     But the Ongwen trial was the first to successfully prosecute forced pregnancy and forced marriage, which are listed as war crimes and crimes against humanity in the ICC Statute. Lawyers at the recent meeting expressed satisfaction that both crimes are now established law as a result. This, they said, creates an important precedent for future cases.

     Patricia Viseur Sellers, a senior advisor to the ICC prosecutor, also noted that women and children held by the LRA had been victims of slavery, which has been well tested in international law. This too could broaden the case against future perpetrators of sexual and gender-based violence.

     At the same time, the legal path ahead is not without obstacles. Sarah Kasande, who heads the office of the International Center for Transitional Justice in Uganda, noted that a Ugandan law providing reparations and justice for survivors is stalled and has yet to be presented to parliament.

     *

     However significant the legal advances, legal redress may not be the most urgent need facing survivors. While human rights lawyers focus on accountability, survivors have set themselves a broader goal which Ambassador Van Schaack described as “returning to a life path of their own choosing.”

     Being able to tell their stories and explain their version of the truth is particularly important. Some experts feel that rape victims should not be identified, to avoid their re-traumatization. But Ms Nyanyjura said that her WAW colleagues had made a clear choice to publish their stories. Their profiles were written in the summer of 2021 by Anna Braverman, a graduate at the Fletcher School, Tufts University, who was deployed by The Advocacy Project to volunteer with WAW and became close friends with the artists.

     Ms Nyanyjura also said that speaking to the Cardozo conference had boosted her own confidence and expressed deep gratitude to the organizers and to UN Women, which paid for the travel of Ugandan participants.

     “I am happy,” she said. “I must say we were respected.”

     *

     Of all the needs facing survivors, none may be more essential than earning a living.

     Most survivors returned from captivity without an education or skills. Judith Adong starting training to be a tailor but gave up because of chest pains from her time as an LRA porter. The COVID pandemic also brought new pressures (which the WAW artists have described in this quilt). No sooner did Concy Alam open a restaurant than she was forced to close by the lock-down.

     The ICC decision on Ongwen has opened the door to reparations through a trust fund for victims which has been established under the ICC although it operates independently. Uganda was the first government to refer a case to the ICC and this – plus the notoriety of the LRA – will likely ensure that any compensation is significant.

     But the ICC depends on voluntary contributions from member states and does not qualify for funding from the US government, which has yet to join the ICC and deeply distrusts the court.

     In addition, ICC reparations will only be given to those who are directly affected by the court’s judgements. This appears to exclude eight of the ten WAW artists, who were held by LRA units other than the ‘Tinia brigade’ commanded by Ongwen. Several speakers warned that reparations can create strains between survivors if mishandled.

     Even being labelled a survivor may complicate the search for support. While humanitarian funding exists to help survivors attend meetings and trials, economic development is handled by a different set of donors that often find it difficult to work with small community-based groups like WAW.

     Ms Nyanyjura said that WAW members hope to continue with embroidery, and several members have sold pieces through the new online store Southern Stitchers. But building a business will require sustained investment, as well as professional expertise, training and marketing skills.

     This underscores the importance of a creative response, as suggested by Ambassador Van Schaack. It also requires an understanding not just of the problems faced by survivors but their resilience and the skills they have developed during their long journey.

      

     

     Victoria Nyanyjura founded Women in Action for Women after escaping from LRA rebels in Uganda. The picture by Grace Awor, another WAW survivor, depicts Ms Awor’s rape.

178. Competing Visions Undermine the Resettlement of Afghans in the US

     August 26, 2022 7:28 pm Leave a Comment

      

     

     Creative assistance: Jenna Whitney hosts a sale of Afghan rugs at her home to support a start-up by Afghan refugees

      

     Earlier this year, during a visit to Baltimore, Jenna Whitney came face to face with the challenge confronting Afghan refugees who had been airlifted to the US after the fall of Kabul on August 15 last year. She found it deeply disturbing.

     Ms Whitney, a former US government contractor who lives near Annapolis, Maryland, was among scores of concerned Marylanders who visited Afghan families after their arrival in the state from US army bases, following their harrowing escape from Afghanistan.

     The refugees were initially placed in two hotels near BWI Airport by the International Rescue Committee (IRC), one of three nongovernmental agencies hired by the US government to resettle Afghans refugees in Maryland.

     After several missions to the hotels to deliver clothes, mobile phones and food, Ms Whitney made her way to the Renaissance Plaza, an apartment block where some of the families had been placed by the IRC after leaving the hotels.

     Here she encountered two sisters, Samira I, 24 and her sister Mina, 17. Samira had worked for an NGO in Afghanistan and told Ms Whitney that she and Mina had been moved into the building by the IRC in December. They had no knowledge of the neighborhood, which is considered unsafe by many locals, and were taunted when they went out in search of food. Terrified, the sisters returned to the apartment where they stayed for the next month, relying on Afghan men in the building to visit shops on their behalf.

     When Ms Whitney visited the apartment, she found it filthy and bare of furniture except for two beds, a couch and a table. The sisters did not have an assigned IRC caseworker. Mina had not been enrolled in school, as required by federal government regulations. Ms Whitney later wrote: “Samira cried in my arms that day and said that she often wondered if she would have been better off staying in Afghanistan and letting the Taliban kill her.”

     Ms Whitney moved the two sisters out of the apartment, at their request, and into her own home. She was further incensed to learn that the IRC had withheld $2,450 given by the US Department of State to cover the basic needs of the sisters during the first 90 days after their arrival.

     Shortly after they moved, an IRC official visited the sisters and told them that the IRC had spent $5,191.92 on their rent, furniture and mobile phones, before asking Samira to sign off on the summary. Feeling pressured, Samira declined and took a screenshot of the document which she shared with Ms Whitney.

     On February 9, Ms Whitney filed a lawsuit against IRC through a law firm in Baltimore, demanding that the $2,450 be given to the sisters.

     In early March Ruben Chandrasekar, the IRC director in Baltimore, wrote to Ms Whitney accusing her and other volunteers in East Baltimore of rejecting the IRC’s offer of collaboration, ignoring the confidentiality of the refugees and “sending repeated messages to various IRC staff and leadership via email and text message, including by utilizing our clients’ personal phones, with accusations, gross factual distortions, and inappropriate demands.”

     The letter continued: “These actions and communications do nothing to further the goals I believe we share regarding the successful integration of these new Afghan community members in Maryland.”

     The letter ended by asking Ms Whitney not to contact the IRC office again. Other volunteers who work with Ms Whitney and were interviewed for this article said that IRC caseworkers had been instructed not to answer their calls. Meanwhile lawyers for the IRC have rejected Ms Whitney’s lawsuit and denied her charges.

     The Two Visions

      

     

     Jeanette Sudano (right) founder of Heart For Refugees and Jenna Whitney deliver kitchen utensils to a refugee family at the Renaissance Plaza apartment complex in Baltimore

     Ms Whitney’s encounter with the two sisters, and her dispute with the IRC, have come to light during an investigation by The Advocacy Project (AP) into the resettlement of Afghan refugees in Maryland a year after the fall of Kabul on August 15, 2021.

     AP supported a program to educate girls in Afghanistan between 2003 and 2010 and criticized the Biden Administration’s precipitous departure from Afghanistan. We met or talked to 21 volunteers or professionals who have worked with refugees in Maryland and Virginia, and with 13 refugees or families in preparation for this article.

     Many agreed that the tensions between the IRC and volunteers in Baltimore have exposed two starkly differing visions about the role of communities in resettling refugees in the US, and that this has major implications for resettlement in the future.

     Volunteers praised Ms. Whitney’s passion, hard work and commitment. Jeanette Sudano, a co-founder of Heart for Refugees, a community association in Maryland that has spent thousands of dollars raised by Ms Whitney, called her a “rock star.”

     But others described volunteers like Ms Whitney and Ms Sudano as “well-meaning meddlers” who have refused to acknowledge the pressures placed on agencies by the largest and most difficult resettlement effort undertaken by the US in recent years.

     One official at the Office of Refugee Resettlement (ORR), a program at the Department of Health and Human Services that funds long-term resettlement programs said bluntly: “These folks don’t have a role in the resettlement process.”

     Others said that Ms Whitney’s lawsuit shows a misunderstanding about the money that was withheld by the IRC to cover the sisters’ rent. Funding for the first 90 days of resettlement, known as Reception and Placement, is given to the resettlement agencies by the Bureau of Population, Refugees and Migration (PRM) at the Department of State to cover the basic needs of refugees, including housing. It is not given directly to the refugees themselves, even though it is often referred to as “welcome money.”

     AP made multiple efforts to reach IRC staff in Maryland but with two exceptions our emails and calls were not answered. An advance copy of this article was shared with the agency.

     Unprecedented Challenge

      

     

     Adding to the trauma: Many Afghan refugees were separated from their families at Kabul airport in August 2021

     The Biden Administration dubbed the airlift and resettlement of Afghan refugees “Operation Allies Welcome.” Asked to assess its success over the past year almost everyone interviewed for this article began by describing the challenge as “unprecedented.”

     The process was harrowing for the refugees themselves. Many arrived deeply traumatized after being plucked from a war zone and exposed to chaos and violence at Kabul airport. Most spoke no English and had no knowledge of their new country beyond what they had learned from working with Americans in Afghanistan.

     Adding to the stress, many had been separated from their families. Samira and Mina I, who met with Ms Whitney at the Baltimore apartment, are from a family of eight sisters. One sister is now in Oregon, two are in Russia and the remaining three are in Kabul with their parents.

     The size and speed of the evacuation was certainly unprecedented. The US airlifted over 72,000 Afghans to the US in the months following the fall of Kabul – compared to the 11,411 refugees admitted to the US in 2021 through the normal resettlement process and a similar number in 2020.

     One US government official described this as a “massive, massive undertaking.” The closest recent parallel, she said, occurred during the Obama Administration when the resettlement agencies received approximately 3,500 Syrians a week for two months. For Operation Allies Welcome, in contrast, approximately 4,000 Afghans arrived each week over five months.

     Myat Lin, who heads the Maryland Office for Refugees and Asylees (MORA), said that his state had accepted 2,032 Afghans in the Fall of 2021 and that this had placed an enormous strain on housing in particular. Rents were sky-high and the vacancy rate in Baltimore apartment buildings stood at just 2% during the pandemic, he said.

     Adding to the challenge, Maryland had almost no Afghan community before August last year according to Manizha Azizi, a former refugee from Afghanistan who now works for Homes Not Borders, a nonprofit that provides refugees with home furnishings. This absence of a prior “Afghan footprint” in Maryland robbed the new arrivals of a support system that has proved critically important in helping other refugees adapt to American culture.

     Operation Allies Welcome also put pressure on the nine nongovernmental agencies, including the IRC, that were contracted by the Department of State to manage the resettlement of the refugees.

     The IRC has worked in many of the world’s hotspots, including Afghanistan, and has long been a mainstay of the US resettlement program. According to a guest editorial on February 22 in the Baltimore Sun by Mr Chandrasekar, the IRC director in Maryland, the agency has resettled over 15,000 refugees in the US during the past twenty years.

     Experts agreed that the agencies were ill-prepared for the arrival of so many Afghans in such a short space of time. The Trump Administration had drastically reduced the number of refugees coming to the US and this, combined with the pandemic, forced agencies to lay off experienced staff and sever contacts with key community partners like rental agencies.

     “I am sympathetic to the IRC,” said Susan Krehbiel, who has worked with asylum cases and refugees since the 1980s and helps Presbyterian congregations connect with refugee programs for the Presbytery of Baltimore. “You cannot just go back and hire people – they’ve moved on.”

     The agencies were dealing with “numbers you haven’t seen in decades and trying to create a program in the midst of chaos,” even as the refugees were arriving in the US, said Ms Krehbiel. “It was not even clear which services (the refugees) would receive.”

     Mr Chandrasekar acknowledged the challenges facing the IRC in his February 22 Op-ed and asked for “patience and understanding of the scale and complexity of this operation.”

     An Offer Is Rejected

      

     

     Alone in a new culture: Afghan women find it particularly difficult to adapt to life the US, find friends and work

     In spite of the unprecedented nature of Operation Allies Welcome, several people interviewed for this article said the IRC had rebuffed their offer of help during the early days of the crisis.

     In August 2021, IRC officials met with several NGOs in the Baltimore area that did not receive federal funding to resettle Afghan refugees but had years of experience in providing essential services to vulnerable immigrants.

     The organizations included Esperanza, a Catholic agency that works with undocumented immigrants from Latin America; the Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR), America’s largest Muslim civil rights and advocacy group; Luminus, a community network that worked with refugees in Howard County of Maryland; and the Baltimore Presbytery.

     Susan Krehbiel, who attended on behalf of the Baltimore Presbytery, said that the organizations hoped to find volunteers who could complement the IRC’s efforts at the hotels and agreed that any volunteers would have to receive screening and training. “At the same time, we were urging the IRC to embrace more collaborative ways of engaging the community, including leveraging our relationships and outreach,” she said.

     Ms Krehbiel said the discussions proved largely fruitless. “We were going back and forth about the independence of IRC and we decided at the end of the day that the refugees were more important than the public perception of the IRC,” she said. “The only concrete support we were able to offer through the IRC were 40 sets of kitchen supplies for families to cook while staying at the hotels.”

     Rebuffed by the IRC, the organizations continued their own efforts, and the Presbytery used its community connections to secure medical attention for several of the families at the hotels, including pregnant women and some newborns. Many volunteers from that period have continued to support many of the Afghans in Baltimore with social events, including an Eid celebration last May, said Ms Krehbiel.

     The organizations also pooled their efforts and delegated to Luminus, which expanded its work to the Baltimore area and set up a new project, the Afghan Alliance of Maryland, to work with the new arrivals under Shakera Rahimi, a widely respected former OBGYN in Afghanistan.

     Several volunteers told AP that they had also offered their services to the IRC and been rejected. Bob Cooke, a retired unionist in Gaithersburg, had helped to organize an interfaith group to assist Syrian refugees in the US in 2016 and gained valuable experience and contacts with the Muslim community in Maryland.

     Mr Cooke said that he approached the IRC when the Afghans began to arrive in August 2021 and met several times with IRC staff in Baltimore. In the end, his team decided to offer their services to the Ethiopian Community Development Council (ECDC), the smallest of the three resettlement agencies working with Afghans in Maryland.

     “They (the ECDC) were looking for the most help,” said Mr Cooke. “They knew they couldn’t do it themselves. They were a lot more honest.” The IRC, in contrast, “argued that they had everything under control and wanted to do everything exactly their way. They didn’t want to give any latitude towards people like us.”

     Ms Whitney said she also approached the IRC and was asked to sign up as an IRC volunteer, attend IRC training, sign a confidentiality agreement and agree to a background check, all of which would take several weeks. “It just didn’t make sense while Afghan women were delivering babies and could not get to the hospital,” she said.

     Asked to comment, Ms Krehbiel said that the IRC had made a mistake in treating the arrival of Afghans as business as usual instead of the unprecedented crisis it clearly was, and trying to “adapt traditional methods to a non-traditional” emergency. She noted that the IRC had even failed to set up a satellite office at the extended stay hotels in Baltimore, where the Afghans first arrived. This could have avoided much of the early bad publicity and opened up a dialogue with volunteers.

     “I will say this,” said Ms Krehbiel. “Government does not integrate people. Case workers do not integrate people. Programs don’t integrate people. Only communities can integrate people in their community.”

     The Family Teams

      

     

     Kathy Hays, left, is part of a team working with a family of fifteen refugees near Annapolis. Here she savors the cooking of Lala, 73 (right)

     Ms Whitney herself has continued to expose what she sees as examples of “neglect and incompetence” and in the process turned into an advocate for greater transparency and accountability in the resettlement system.

     But she has also played a less confrontational role as a coordinator for over 100 volunteers who have formed 27 teams to support Afghan families in the Baltimore area. Funding has come from team members, from churches and from Ms Whitney, who has raised $24,522 through gofundme and another $60,000 through corporate donations.

     During a series of meetings with AP in recent weeks, Ms Whitney explained that the team model contrasts sharply with the traditional approach of resettlement agencies. Agency caseworkers are assigned multiple refugee families and are backed up by volunteers who go thorough IRC background checks and training, she said. Their focus is essentially short-term. Teams, in contrast, are groups of friends who offer a range of services and skills to individual refugee families for as long as is required.

     Like other team members who spoke to AP, Ms Whitney said that her own motivation was deeply personal and tinged with a sense of guilt. “I can’t turn away,” she said. “They’re coming to our country. We invited them here. It’s not like they’re being smuggled across the border. These are people we told them we would take care of, and we’re not.”

     Ms Whitney’s experience with the sisters has also convinced her that the resettlement system can demean refugees by viewing them as clients dependent on services. “It feels sort of sub-human,” she said. “These are proud people.”

     Ms Whitney said that the Baltimore teams are modeled on Arlington Neighbors Welcoming Afghans (ANWA), a network established by Ryan Alvis, a former Marine who served in Afghanistan and also felt the need to respond when she first met Afghan refugees at the hotels. “It was all about survival back then,” said Ms Alvis in a phone call with AP.

     The ANWA network has made extensive use of social media to reach out to members and the ANWA Facebook page today has more than 1,900 friends. Ms Whitney has followed ANWA’s example and posts regularly on Facebook and Amazon lists, seeking everything from blenders to sanitary pads.

     One major advantage of the team approach is a deep understanding of the communities where refugees will settle said Bob Cooke, who helped to launch the New Neighbors Interfaith Alliance (NNIA), a network of interfaith organizations in Gaithersburg to work with Afghan refugees. The alliance has supported 20 refugee families since January and raised over $70,000 from about 100 private donors. It is run by seven volunteers, including Mr Cooke, and does not have any formal legal status.

     As well as roots in the community, Mr Cooke said that his group has considerable expertise because many members are retired with successful careers behind them and time on their hands. Many of their skills are also complementary, and this allows the team to provide integrated support and address multiple needs.

     This was echoed by Hilary Smalley, one of three friends who coordinate a team in support of two Afghan brothers and their families in Glen Burnie, Maryland. Ms Smalley credited Ms Whitney with “lighting the spark” by alerting her to the crisis at the Baltimore hotels when they were in a running class together, and she helped form the team in March. A nurse by training, Ms Smalley covers the family’s medical needs. Another volunteer handles schools. Others help by driving and organizing events, from baby showers to picnics.

     The connections enjoyed by community teams allow them to locate refuge families that are in trouble and respond quickly, said Minoo Tavakoli, who escaped from Iran with her family during the revolution in 1985 and went on to head the computer department at the Columbia School of Business before retiring.

     Ms Tavakoli started a support group for the Afghan refugees in 2021 with three other Iranian-American friends and said she has probably helped “hundreds” of Afghans in the months since. She has invested almost $10,000 of her own money and said that her knowledge of Farsi made it easier to communicate with the refugees. Language is a significant barrier to their successful integration, she said.

     As their friendships with the refugees have deepened, so has the teams’ understanding of the resettlement challenges, and this has allowed them to be creative in their response. In April Ms Whitney organized a sale of Afghan rugs at her house and commissioned food for the event from a family of 15 that includes Lala A, 73, an excellent cook. Lala’s dishes proved so successful that the family wants to open a food truck.

     Often, team members respond with acts of simple kindness. Aware that Samira I was lonely, Ms Whitney took her on a tour of museums in Washington with another young refugee woman, Shogofa S, whose parents were killed by the Taliban in a bomb attack and was also pining for her siblings in Afghanistan.

     AP came across many other such examples during this research. Amy Springer, a teacher who has taken over coordination of the Arlington Neighbors Welcoming Afghans, makes a point of taking toys for refugee children whenever she visits a family. Heart for Refugees recently organized a picnic for scores of refugees which enabled Afghan men to reunite with friends they had known back in Afghanistan. Ms Azizi from Homes Not Borders described the event as “cool” and said it had helped to build the Afghan “footprint” in Maryland.

     Collaboration Between Family Teams and the Agencies

      

     

     Acts of kindness: Amy Springer, from the ANWA network of teams in Virginia, delivers a bike to an Afghan family in Manassas. Ms Springer delivers a toy for children every time she visits refugees

     Not all resettlement agencies view the independence of the refugee support teams as a threat.

     The smallest of the three agencies in Maryland, the Ethiopian Community Development Council (ECDC), has supported around 350 Afghans in Maryland since August 2021 and welcomes volunteers because they contribute towards the complete integration of refugees, said Katherine Stockton-Juarez, the agency’s volunteer coordinator.

     ECDC was established in 1983 to raise support for refugees from Ethiopia among Ethiopians living in the US and this focus on the receiving communities “sets us apart from other agencies,” she said. It also requires a long-term, open-ended commitment.

     Ms Stockton-Juarez said that ECDC works with about 135 volunteers and supports several initiatives that enable volunteers to contribute on their own terms. Ten are participating in First Friends, a program that encourages volunteers to build open-ended friendships with refugees. Another program works with “support groups” that help refugee families and often comprise churches.

     Earlier this year, ECDC launched a new pilot project (“co-sponsorships”) to work with teams and asked the New Neighbors Interfaith Alliance in Gaithersburg to sponsor the first family. Bob Cooke, an Alliance coordinator, had worked with ECDC during the Syrian refugee crisis. He told AP that the new assignment was significantly different from the earlier collaboration, when his group had taken over from ECDC after the initial 90 days. When it came to the Afghans, he said, ECDC asked the Alliance to assume the entire range of services (“the whole nine yards!”) from the start.

     Asked whether surrendering authority to the teams represented a risk, Ms Stockton-Juarez agreed that “rogue” volunteers can offer inappropriate support and even lead to the “scamming” of refugees. But she vets the teams carefully in advance, checks in every two weeks and is ready to intervene if she hears complaints or sees signs of “microaggression” in the way team members address the refugees. She has encountered no problems so far and the ECDC now has seven teams working as co-sponsors.

     Others interviewed for this article said that community-based organizations act as a bridge between resettlement agencies on the one hand, and communities on the other. One example is Homes Without Borders, which has provided 420 refugee families with beds, mattresses and home furnishings since August last year, according to Laura Thompson Osuri, the organization’s founder.

     Over 80% of the families have been Afghans and most were referred by agencies, including the IRC, she said: “We love the IRC and they love us.”

     While it works with the IRC, Homes Not Borders also has deep roots in the community, explained Ms Azizi, family service manager for the organization. Ms Azizi came to the US as a refugee at the age of five and well remembers the difficulties that faced her own parents in adapting to their new culture. This has given her an acute sense of the challenge facing the new wave of Afghans and her job gives her latitude to explore innovative approaches that include cooking and embroidery.

     Ms Azizi also serves on the board of two organizations, the Afghan Alliance at Luminus and the Immigrant Refugee and Outreach Center which also allows her to deepen the Afghan footprint in Maryland.

     There is wide agreement that these and other organizations will be critical as the resettlement effort enters the second year. As well as contacts, they offer specialist services that address the needs of vulnerable families that might miss out on government funding after the initial 90 days of Reception and Placement. This is examined in further detail below.

     Damaging Fallout

      

     

     Hilary Smalley (left) and Nancy Plaxico, active members of a family team, organized a hike at the Patapsco State Park for their two refugee families

     The success of ECDC and Homes Without Borders in working with communities has left many frustrated at the lack of collaboration between the IRC and the volunteer teams in Baltimore. This, they said, is doing real damage.

     One concern is rent, which is the single largest expense facing refugees during and after the first 90 days. Most of the 27 families supported by the teams in Baltimore were able to pay their rent during the 90 days through a combination of the federal subsidy (the so-called “welcome money”) and money raised by Ms Whitney and the teams.

     But refugees expressed anxiety and uncertainty over what happened next. The lack of communications between IRC caseworkers and volunteers has done nothing to allay their concerns.

     In a June 28 phone discussion with AP, Myat Lin, the Maryland refugee coordinator, said that his office does offer additional funding for rent after 90 days but that this is not “widely announced.”

     Ms Whitney has since learned that Mr Lin has also pledged a year of support for families that fall behind in paying rent and that he is determined that no Afghan refugee will be evicted in Maryland. The problem, she said, is that this was not communicated to the 27 refugee families in Baltimore or to the team volunteers by Mr Lin’s office or IRC caseworkers.

     Ms Whitney was also upset to hear that her own funds had gone to pay for rent when government money was available, and described this as “waste and duplication.”

     The breakdown in communications has also meant that the 27 families and their teams do not know what to expect after the initial 90 days, and whether or not the IRC remains responsible for their welfare.

     Funding for programs after the 90 days comes through The Office of Refugee Resettlement and is managed by the states. But according to Susan Krehbiel, from the Maryland Presbytery, these programs are not required to offer services to all refugees and are subject to less federal oversight than during Reception and Placement. “The only thing with teeth is (during) the 90 days,” she said.

     This leaves it unclear what the refuges can claim, and from whom. One expert told AP that refugees tend to have “unrealistic expectations” about agency support and assume “it will last forever.” This should have been addressed at US Army bases during the first phase of Operation Allies Welcome but, she said, cultural orientation at the bases was cut short because of the numbers and urgency of moving the refugees off base and into states. Rumors then spread quickly by word of mouth as refugees arrived in the states and began comparing services.

     There seems little chance of any agreement soon between the Baltimore teams and IRC. Mr Lin has urged the volunteers to help their families fill out a form designating the volunteers as representatives, and then work through agencies.

     Ms Whitney said that she will agree to a background check, and had already undergone a check through Luminus. But she is unwilling to work under the IRC. Barbara Ferris, president of the International Women’s Democracy Center, another critic of the IRC’s early handling of arrivals in Baltimore, was more blunt. Working with the IRC at this stage, she said, “would damage our credibility.”

     Several people interviewed for this article warned that the continuing stand-off and the media coverage it has generated could jeopardize government support for traditional resettlement.

     The Biden Administration has offered to accept 100,000 Ukrainian refugees and announced a new initiative on April 22 to encourage American families to assume the cost of resettling Ukrainians by forming “Sponsor Circles.” But the prospect of the federal government withdrawing altogether alarmed several experts who spoke to AP. One said his agency was worried by the possibility of abuse and even trafficking of Ukrainians.

     Others said that neither the agencies nor the communities can manage resettlement on their own. Volunteers cannot possibly provide consistent services to large numbers of refugees across the country while also adhering to onerous federal regulations. But the agencies cannot afford to ignore volunteers like Ms Whitney who have a direct line into communities.

     “Both approaches are clearly needed,” said Ms Stockton-Juarez from the ECDC.

     The Verdict So Far
     

      

     

     Land of plenty: Newly-arrived refugees discover the supermarket

     The two competing visions of resettlement color how the last year’s efforts are perceived by those who talked to AP for this article.

     Several people described the response of the agencies as nothing short of heroic. According to one federal government analysis, over half of the Afghans considered employable have found jobs and 97% of the Afghan refugees are in permanent housing.

     “Given the shortage of housing and the fact that they arrived with no jobs or a credit history, that is pretty incredible,” said one expert who works on the resettlement of Afghans. “I have been amazed to see what has been done.”

     The expert added that the resettlement agencies had been “extremely creative and committed to resettling Afghans under extremely difficult conditions – housing and labor shortages, the pandemic, and huge pace and numbers.”

     This was echoed by Mr Lin, the refugee coordinator for Maryland, who said the government’s definition of success is whether a refugee is “able to meet his or her basic expenses with income through employment.” Prior to 2022, he said, around 70% of new refugees found work within 8 months of their arrival in Maryland – one of the best records in the country – although a “few still struggled after the 8 months.”

     Overall, Ms Whitney’s fellow volunteers are proud of their work so far. Hilary Smalley, who works with the two Afghan families headed by brothers in Glen Burnie, clashed with the IRC in March after she withdrew one of the families from housing assigned by the IRC and found work for one of the brothers. The IRC refused to release several thousand dollars of cash assistance given by the Department of State to cover rent for the family’s new apartment.

     But Ms Smalley is content with the outcome. “So many things have worked out well for (the families) that it’s hard for me to get mad,” she said. “They have jobs. Their kids are enrolled in decent schools. They’re happy and they have a car (paid for by the team.) I feel blessed.”

     But while many volunteers share Ms Smalley’s sense of accomplishment, their view of progress so far is overshadowed by the fact that they are working mainly with families in crisis.

     Although the pace has slowed, new cases continue to arrive, said Ms Whitney. In a July 28 email to the IRC she reported that a family in Baltimore that spoke very little English was “panicking” because their electricity had been shut off during a heat wave. After calling the utility company, volunteers learned that the family owed $793.5 because their IRC caseworker had forgotten to change the name on their account. Adding to their woes, the family had no baby formula. The family had tried to contact the caseworker but received no reply.

     Ms Whitney is also worried for a 16-year old refugee who was not enrolled in school and was beaten by his father after an argument. Ms Whitney had helped the father and son move to an apartment in a good school district and found the father a full-time job with benefits. But the boy was not enrolled in school by the IRC and went to work in a 7-Eleven store, only to be accused of stealing $800 by the owner and reported to the police. He later signed a confession even though he could speak barely any English.

     “If he had gone to school, I think the son would have had a better shot at making it,” said Ms Whitney.

     The Challenge Ahead

      

     

     The power of education: Like many Afghan refugee children, Amina, 15, has thrived at school in the US and picked up English quickly

     Jenna Whitney’s experience with Afghan families in crisis has also influenced her expectations for the challenges that lie ahead.

     Most agree that education will not be the problem it was in the early months last year. After being enrolled in school, almost all refugee children have benefited from English language training (ESL) and many have made spectacular progress. During one visit to the Renaissance Plaza building in Baltimore, AP met with Abdullah T, who lost a leg while rescuing an American soldier in Afghanistan. All of his seven children were in school and his older son – who provided translation for his father – had picked up English while waiting on the US army base.

     But Abdullah T himself was struggling to navigate a thicket of regulations and secure disability benefits. His team of volunteers predicted a difficult road ahead.

     Just how difficult it will be, they said, will also depend on the support he receives from other Afghans in the neighborhood. While most families at the Renaissance Plaza have made friends with other refugees in the building, the lack of an Afghan mosque and stores in the neighborhood will add to the problem – one reason why volunteer teams wanted to move families from the building early after their arrival. While an “Afghan footprint” may be emerging slowly in Maryland, it cannot be manufactured artificially or overnight.

     Other refugees at the Renaissance Plaza also made it clear that employment is not always the boon it is made out to be. Akhtar W took advantage of the hot job market and quickly found entry-level work as a gas attendant. Others have worked in food processing and warehouses that require little English and earned an average of around $14 an hour, according to volunteers.

     But this has placed a strain on Akhtar W, who arrived without his family and only qualified for $1,225 in federal support during the first 90 days. He sleeps in the same room as three other Afghan men who also arrived without their families so as to cover the cost of rent. Akhtar W has also been forced to take on additional part-time work in order to meet his own expenses and send money back to his family in Afghanistan. His working day sometimes lasts for 15 hours, he said.

     “Single men and women may seem more resilient but they also suffer more from loneliness,” said Ms Whitney who knows Akhtar W well. The conventional approach to resettlement has no answers for loneliness and depression, she said.

     Volunteers are also uncovering cases of family tensions which escalate into violence. Minoo Tavakoli, who works closely with Ms Whitney, is particularly worried by the pressures on refugee women who usually live with the families of their husbands and tend to be far more isolated in their new American culture than men.

     Ms Tavakoli recently learned of a pregnant refugee in Virginia who was stabbed by her husband after a dispute and only taken to hospital after a friend alerted the police. The case fell under the Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Services (LRIS), which appears to have ignored the dispute for several weeks. An LRIS caseworker eventually called the woman’s husband, even though he was also the abuser.

     In Ms Tavakoli’s view this showed that agency caseworkers are often “overwhelmed” by the number of families they have to manage and lack the skills needed to deal with such complex cases. Merely employing female caseworkers may not be enough, she said. “American women are used to yelling at men, but this does not happen in Afghanistan.”

     Overshadowing everything for many refugees is continued separation from their families in Afghanistan, and uncertainty over their legal status.

     Bob Cooke said that two refugee women known to his team in Gaithersburg had tried to commit suicide after being separated from their families at the airport. One of the women had just learned that her husband had been killed at the airport in an explosion. Separation also forces refugees like Akhtar W to find extra work because they are the only source of income for their families back in Afghanistan.

     Legal worries only add to the strain. Most of the Afghans who arrived under Operation Allies Welcome were not granted asylum, like Ukrainian refugees, but were designated “humanitarian parolees” and given two years to secure permanent residence.

     After a year many refugees feel the clock is ticking. The Biden Administration has given the Afghans temporary protection from deportation through to September 15 of next year and this could be extended. But the mere possibility of deportation adds to the anxiety and stress, said Akhtar W.

     “Coming to America has made me an enemy of the Taliban” he said. “It would be a death sentence for me to go back.” He added that the Taliban were making regular visits to his house in Kabul.

     Fashioning a Community Response
     

      

     

     Shakera Rahimi, a former OBGYN in Afghanistan, directs the Afghan Alliance of Maryland and is much admired for her work with refugee families. By employing Afghans, the Alliance is also helping to build an Afghan footprint in Maryland

     Many volunteers who spoke to AP for this article felt that the sheer range of challenges that lie ahead is another strong argument for their family teams.

     This is partly because they have doubts about the long-term programs funded by the federal government and channeled through states. According to the Office of Refugee Resettlement, Maryland received $4,163,528 for Afghan refugees in an allocation announced on December 29 last year, behind only California, Texas, Virginia and Washington state. When he talked to AP on June 28, Mr Lin said his office was managing 28 cooperative agreements with 10 partners, including the three main resettlement agencies.

     The problem with such programs, said volunteers, is that they do not address the full range of needs and vulnerabilities of individual families, identified above, and because they focus heavily on helping refugees find jobs.

     Some ORR programs certainly do focus on special needs, like Preferred Communities, which offers help to refugees from torture and LGBTQ discrimination as well as victims of trafficking and can run for up to five years.

     But many key services are barely covered. With the legal status of the Afghan parolees still in question, legal aid could be particularly important, but even the ECDC employs only one lawyer who offers pro bono advice one morning a week, said Ms Stockton-Juarez. For Ms Whitney, this makes a compelling case for volunteers like Kathy Hicks who works on Green Card applications as part of a team helping the 15-member family of Lala A near Annapolis.

     Mr Cooke from the NIAA team in Gaithersburg said he is not aware of any psychologists who provide pro bono support for refugees, or specialize in the distress caused by family separation. This underscores the importance of friendship offered by team members.

     As a result, some volunteers expect to add advocacy to their strategy. However exhausting it may be, and however uncomfortable for her targets, Ms Whitney sees no reason to ease her criticism of the IRC. After the controversies of the past year, she also feels there is an urgent need for independent monitoring of the resettlement process and more transparency.

     On January 29 she submitted a detailed complaint about the “dire situation of Baltimore-based Afghan refugees” to the Bureau of Refugees, Population and Migration (PRM) at the State Department. A PRM official replied that the Bureau would follow up “with the organizations involved.” Early in March, Ms Whitney sent a strongly-worded complaint to the office of the Inspector General of the State Department, which referred her to the PRM Bureau.

     At the state level, Ms Whitney has also sent multiple emails to the Maryland refugee coordinator Myat Lin, who himself came to the US as a refugee from Burma 16 years ago. She also contacted Congressman Jamie Raskin and the office of Governor Larry Hogan. Although Ms Whitney talked by phone with Mr Raskin, neither initiative had gone further by the time this article was written.

     Others interviewed for this article said that the system badly needs independent monitoring from people like Ms Whitney. “There is simply no accountability” said Barbara Ferris from the IWDC.

     AP has been told that the State Department conducts spot-checks at short notice to ensure that its procedures are being followed during the first 90 days, and hopes to complete sixty such investigations by the Fall. But the Department also relies on its agency partners to follow up on individual complaints. Ms Whitney assumes this why she heard nothing back after her January 29 complaint to the PRM Bureau.

     Volunteers say that this hands-off approach by the federal government increases the importance of the Maryland Office of Refugees and Asylees (MORA) as a monitor. Myat Lin, the head of MORA, told AP that he had “responded to a number of inquiries and complaints from constituents and community members” and answered every inquiry. But, he went on, his office of four is too small to be proactive and reach out to communities.

     Ms Whitney feels that Mr Lin should be more forceful, given that his office is the conduit for millions of dollars of federal funding. She would like to see him take a tougher line with the agencies, who talk to him on a weekly basis, and follow up aggressively on complaints. Others said that Mr Lin could also play a role in bridging the gulf between the IRC and its critics, and in reconciling the two visions of resettlement outlined in this article.

     Some volunteers also plan to step up their advocacy for family reunification, which has stalled after early promises by the Biden Administration. They will also argue for passage of the Afghan Adjustment Act that would give asylum to Afghan parolees but was put on hold in 2021 and has yet to be taken up by the US Congress. Bob Cooke’s team in Gaithersburg has already approached the office of Chris Van Hollen, one of Maryland’s two senators.

     For Afghan refugees who spoke to AP for this article, such action cannot come soon enough.

     Akhtar W was one of several refugees at the Renaissance Plaza building who expressed concern that the outpouring of sympathy for Afghan refugees in the US last summer has given way to indifference. The main thing that keeps his hopes alive is the friendship and support of Ms Whitney, he said.

     This blog was published on August 25 as an AP news bulletin. Some names have been changed to ensure security.
     

     Iain Guest is director of The Advocacy Project. He reported on refugee issues from Geneva for the Guardian and International Herald Tribune in the 1980s and served as spokesperson for the UN Refugee Agency (UNHCR) in Cambodia during the repatriation of refugees in 1993. Email Iain at iain@advocacynet.org.

     *

      

      

179. Competing Visions Undermine the Resettlement of Afghans in the US

     August 25, 2022 6:19 pm Leave a Comment

      

     Competing Visions Undermine the Resettlement of Afghans in the US

     An investigation by The Advocacy Project into the resettlement of Afghan refugees in the state of Maryland, a year after the fall of Kabul

     By Iain Guest

      

     

     Creative assistance: Jenna Whitney hosts a sale of Afghan rugs at her home to support a start-up by Afghan refugees

      

     Earlier this year, during a visit to Baltimore, Jenna Whitney came face to face with the challenge confronting Afghan refugees who had been airlifted to the US after the fall of Kabul on August 15 last year. She found it deeply disturbing.

     Ms Whitney, a former US government contractor who lives near Annapolis, Maryland, was among scores of concerned Marylanders who visited Afghan families after their arrival in the state from US army bases, following their harrowing escape from Afghanistan.

     The refugees were initially placed in two hotels near BWI Airport by the International Rescue Committee (IRC), one of three nongovernmental agencies hired by the US government to resettle Afghans refugees in Maryland.

     After several missions to the hotels to deliver clothes, mobile phones and food, Ms Whitney made her way to the Renaissance Plaza, an apartment block where some of the families had been placed by the IRC after leaving the hotels.

     Here she encountered two sisters, Samira I, 24 and her sister Mina, 17. Samira had worked for an NGO in Afghanistan and told Ms Whitney that she and Mina had been moved into the building by the IRC in December. They had no knowledge of the neighborhood, which is considered unsafe by many locals, and were taunted when they went out in search of food. Terrified, the sisters returned to the apartment where they stayed for the next month, relying on Afghan men in the building to visit shops on their behalf.

     When Ms Whitney visited the apartment, she found it filthy and bare of furniture except for two beds, a couch and a table. The sisters did not have an assigned IRC caseworker. Mina had not been enrolled in school, as required by federal government regulations. Ms Whitney later wrote: “Samira cried in my arms that day and said that she often wondered if she would have been better off staying in Afghanistan and letting the Taliban kill her.”

     Ms Whitney moved the two sisters out of the apartment, at their request, and into her own home. She was further incensed to learn that the IRC had withheld $2,450 given by the US Department of State to cover the basic needs of the sisters during the first 90 days after their arrival.

     Shortly after they moved, an IRC official visited the sisters and told them that the IRC had spent $5,191.92 on their rent, furniture and mobile phones, before asking Samira to sign off on the summary. Feeling pressured, Samira declined and took a screenshot of the document which she shared with Ms Whitney.

     On February 9, Ms Whitney filed a lawsuit against IRC through a law firm in Baltimore, demanding that the $2,450 be given to the sisters.

     In early March Ruben Chandrasekar, the IRC director in Baltimore, wrote to Ms Whitney accusing her and other volunteers in East Baltimore of rejecting the IRC’s offer of collaboration, ignoring the confidentiality of the refugees and “sending repeated messages to various IRC staff and leadership via email and text message, including by utilizing our clients’ personal phones, with accusations, gross factual distortions, and inappropriate demands.”

     The letter continued: “These actions and communications do nothing to further the goals I believe we share regarding the successful integration of these new Afghan community members in Maryland.”

     The letter ended by asking Ms Whitney not to contact the IRC office again. Other volunteers who work with Ms Whitney and were interviewed for this article said that IRC caseworkers had been instructed not to answer their calls. Meanwhile lawyers for the IRC have rejected Ms Whitney’s lawsuit and denied her charges.

     The Two Visions

      

     

     Jeanette Sudano (right) founder of Heart For Refugees and Jenna Whitney deliver kitchen utensils to a refugee family at the Renaissance Plaza apartment complex in Baltimore

     Ms Whitney’s encounter with the two sisters, and her dispute with the IRC, have come to light during an investigation by The Advocacy Project (AP) into the resettlement of Afghan refugees in Maryland a year after the fall of Kabul on August 15, 2021.

     AP supported a program to educate girls in Afghanistan between 2003 and 2010 and criticized the Biden Administration’s precipitous departure from Afghanistan. We met or talked to 21 volunteers or professionals who have worked with refugees in Maryland and Virginia, and with 13 refugees or families in preparation for this article.

     Many agreed that the tensions between the IRC and volunteers in Baltimore have exposed two starkly differing visions about the role of communities in resettling refugees in the US, and that this has major implications for resettlement in the future.

     Volunteers praised Ms. Whitney’s passion, hard work and commitment. Jeanette Sudano, a co-founder of Heart for Refugees, a community association in Maryland that has spent thousands of dollars raised by Ms Whitney, called her a “rock star.”

     But others described volunteers like Ms Whitney and Ms Sudano as “well-meaning meddlers” who have refused to acknowledge the pressures placed on agencies by the largest and most difficult resettlement effort undertaken by the US in recent years.

     One official at the Office of Refugee Resettlement (ORR), a program at the Department of Health and Human Services that funds long-term resettlement programs said bluntly: “These folks don’t have a role in the resettlement process.”

     Others said that Ms Whitney’s lawsuit shows a misunderstanding about the money that was withheld by the IRC to cover the sisters’ rent. Funding for the first 90 days of resettlement, known as Reception and Placement, is given to the resettlement agencies by the Bureau of Population, Refugees and Migration (PRM) at the Department of State to cover the basic needs of refugees, including housing. It is not given directly to the refugees themselves, even though it is often referred to as “welcome money.”

     AP made multiple efforts to reach IRC staff in Maryland but with two exceptions our emails and calls were not answered. An advance copy of this article was shared with the agency.

     Unprecedented Challenge

      

     

     Adding to the trauma: Many Afghan refugees were separated from their families at Kabul airport in August 2021

     The Biden Administration dubbed the airlift and resettlement of Afghan refugees “Operation Allies Welcome.” Asked to assess its success over the past year almost everyone interviewed for this article began by describing the challenge as “unprecedented.”

     The process was harrowing for the refugees themselves. Many arrived deeply traumatized after being plucked from a war zone and exposed to chaos and violence at Kabul airport. Most spoke no English and had no knowledge of their new country beyond what they had learned from working with Americans in Afghanistan.

     Adding to the stress, many had been separated from their families. Samira and Mina I, who met with Ms Whitney at the Baltimore apartment, are from a family of eight sisters. One sister is now in Oregon, two are in Russia and the remaining three are in Kabul with their parents.

     The size and speed of the evacuation was certainly unprecedented. The US airlifted over 72,000 Afghans to the US in the months following the fall of Kabul – compared to the 11,411 refugees admitted to the US in 2021 through the normal resettlement process and a similar number in 2020.

     One US government official described this as a “massive, massive undertaking.” The closest recent parallel, she said, occurred during the Obama Administration when the resettlement agencies received approximately 3,500 Syrians a week for two months. For Operation Allies Welcome, in contrast, approximately 4,000 Afghans arrived each week over five months.

     Myat Lin, who heads the Maryland Office for Refugees and Asylees (MORA), said that his state had accepted 2,032 Afghans in the Fall of 2021 and that this had placed an enormous strain on housing in particular. Rents were sky-high and the vacancy rate in Baltimore apartment buildings stood at just 2% during the pandemic, he said.

     Adding to the challenge, Maryland had almost no Afghan community before August last year according to Manizha Azizi, a former refugee from Afghanistan who now works for Homes Not Borders, a nonprofit that provides refugees with home furnishings. This absence of a prior “Afghan footprint” in Maryland robbed the new arrivals of a support system that has proved critically important in helping other refugees adapt to American culture.

     Operation Allies Welcome also put pressure on the nine nongovernmental agencies, including the IRC, that were contracted by the Department of State to manage the resettlement of the refugees.

     The IRC has worked in many of the world’s hotspots, including Afghanistan, and has long been a mainstay of the US resettlement program. According to a guest editorial on February 22 in the Baltimore Sun by Mr Chandrasekar, the IRC director in Maryland, the agency has resettled over 15,000 refugees in the US during the past twenty years.

     Experts agreed that the agencies were ill-prepared for the arrival of so many Afghans in such a short space of time. The Trump Administration had drastically reduced the number of refugees coming to the US and this, combined with the pandemic, forced agencies to lay off experienced staff and sever contacts with key community partners like rental agencies.

     “I am sympathetic to the IRC,” said Susan Krehbiel, who has worked with asylum cases and refugees since the 1980s and helps Presbyterian congregations connect with refugee programs for the Presbytery of Baltimore. “You cannot just go back and hire people – they’ve moved on.”

     The agencies were dealing with “numbers you haven’t seen in decades and trying to create a program in the midst of chaos,” even as the refugees were arriving in the US, said Ms Krehbiel. “It was not even clear which services (the refugees) would receive.”

     Mr Chandrasekar acknowledged the challenges facing the IRC in his February 22 Op-ed and asked for “patience and understanding of the scale and complexity of this operation.”

     An Offer Is Rejected

      

     

     Alone in a new culture: Afghan women find it particularly difficult to adapt to life the US, find friends and work

     In spite of the unprecedented nature of Operation Allies Welcome, several people interviewed for this article said the IRC had rebuffed their offer of help during the early days of the crisis.

     In August 2021, IRC officials met with several NGOs in the Baltimore area that did not receive federal funding to resettle Afghan refugees but had years of experience in providing essential services to vulnerable immigrants.

     The organizations included Esperanza, a Catholic agency that works with undocumented immigrants from Latin America; the Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR), America’s largest Muslim civil rights and advocacy group; Luminus, a community network that worked with refugees in Howard County of Maryland; and the Baltimore Presbytery.

     Susan Krehbiel, who attended on behalf of the Baltimore Presbytery, said that the organizations hoped to find volunteers who could complement the IRC’s efforts at the hotels and agreed that any volunteers would have to receive screening and training. “At the same time, we were urging the IRC to embrace more collaborative ways of engaging the community, including leveraging our relationships and outreach,” she said.

     Ms Krehbiel said the discussions proved largely fruitless. “We were going back and forth about the independence of IRC and we decided at the end of the day that the refugees were more important than the public perception of the IRC,” she said. “The only concrete support we were able to offer through the IRC were 40 sets of kitchen supplies for families to cook while staying at the hotels.”

     Rebuffed by the IRC, the organizations continued their own efforts, and the Presbytery used its community connections to secure medical attention for several of the families at the hotels, including pregnant women and some newborns. Many volunteers from that period have continued to support many of the Afghans in Baltimore with social events, including an Eid celebration last May, said Ms Krehbiel.    

     The organizations also pooled their efforts and delegated to Luminus, which expanded its work to the Baltimore area and set up a new project, the Afghan Alliance of Maryland, to work with the new arrivals under Shakera Rahimi, a widely respected former OBGYN in Afghanistan.

     Several volunteers told AP that they had also offered their services to the IRC and been rejected. Bob Cooke, a retired unionist in Gaithersburg, had helped to organize an interfaith group to assist Syrian refugees in the US in 2016 and gained valuable experience and contacts with the Muslim community in Maryland.

     Mr Cooke said that he approached the IRC when the Afghans began to arrive in August 2021 and met several times with IRC staff in Baltimore. In the end, his team decided to offer their services to the Ethiopian Community Development Council (ECDC), the smallest of the three resettlement agencies working with Afghans in Maryland.

     “They (the ECDC) were looking for the most help,” said Mr Cooke. “They knew they couldn’t do it themselves. They were a lot more honest.” The IRC, in contrast, “argued that they had everything under control and wanted to do everything exactly their way. They didn’t want to give any latitude towards people like us.”

     Ms Whitney said she also approached the IRC and was asked to sign up as an IRC volunteer, attend IRC training, sign a confidentiality agreement and agree to a background check, all of which would take several weeks. “It just didn’t make sense while Afghan women were delivering babies and could not get to the hospital,” she said.

     Asked to comment, Ms Krehbiel said that the IRC had made a mistake in treating the arrival of Afghans as business as usual instead of the unprecedented crisis it clearly was, and trying to “adapt traditional methods to a non-traditional” emergency. She noted that the IRC had even failed to set up a satellite office at the extended stay hotels in Baltimore, where the Afghans first arrived. This could have avoided much of the early bad publicity and opened up a dialogue with volunteers.

     “I will say this,” said Ms Krehbiel. “Government does not integrate people. Case workers do not integrate people. Programs don’t integrate people. Only communities can integrate people in their community.”

     The Family Teams

      

     

     Kathy Hays, left, is part of a team working with a family of fifteen refugees near Annapolis. Here she savors the cooking of Lala, 73 (right)

     Ms Whitney herself has continued to expose what she sees as examples of “neglect and incompetence” and in the process turned into an advocate for greater transparency and accountability in the resettlement system.

     But she has also played a less confrontational role as a coordinator for over 100 volunteers who have formed 27 teams to support Afghan families in the Baltimore area. Funding has come from team members, from churches and from Ms Whitney, who has raised $24,522 through gofundme and another $60,000 through corporate donations.

     During a series of meetings with AP in recent weeks, Ms Whitney explained that the team model contrasts sharply with the traditional approach of resettlement agencies. Agency caseworkers are assigned multiple refugee families and are backed up by volunteers who go thorough IRC background checks and training, she said. Their focus is essentially short-term. Teams, in contrast, are groups of friends who offer a range of services and skills to individual refugee families for as long as is required.

     Like other team members who spoke to AP, Ms Whitney said that her own motivation was deeply personal and tinged with a sense of guilt. “I can’t turn away,” she said. “They’re coming to our country. We invited them here. It’s not like they’re being smuggled across the border. These are people we told them we would take care of, and we’re not.”

     Ms Whitney’s experience with the sisters has also convinced her that the resettlement system can demean refugees by viewing them as clients dependent on services. “It feels sort of sub-human,” she said. “These are proud people.”

     Ms Whitney said that the Baltimore teams are modeled on Arlington Neighbors Welcoming Afghans (ANWA), a network established by Ryan Alvis, a former Marine who served in Afghanistan and also felt the need to respond when she first met Afghan refugees at the hotels. “It was all about survival back then,” said Ms Alvis in a phone call with AP.

     The ANWA network has made extensive use of social media to reach out to members and the ANWA Facebook page today has more than 1,900 friends. Ms Whitney has followed ANWA’s example and posts regularly on Facebook and Amazon lists, seeking everything from blenders to sanitary pads.

     One major advantage of the team approach is a deep understanding of the communities where refugees will settle said Bob Cooke, who helped to launch the New Neighbors Interfaith Alliance (NNIA), a network of interfaith organizations in Gaithersburg to work with Afghan refugees. The alliance has supported 20 refugee families since January and raised over $70,000 from about 100 private donors. It is run by seven volunteers, including Mr Cooke, and does not have any formal legal status.

     As well as roots in the community, Mr Cooke said that his group has considerable expertise because many members are retired with successful careers behind them and time on their hands. Many of their skills are also complementary, and this allows the team to provide integrated support and address multiple needs.

     This was echoed by Hilary Smalley, one of three friends who coordinate a team in support of two Afghan brothers and their families in Glen Burnie, Maryland. Ms Smalley credited Ms Whitney with “lighting the spark” by alerting her to the crisis at the Baltimore hotels when they were in a running class together, and she helped form the team in March. A nurse by training, Ms Smalley covers the family’s medical needs. Another volunteer handles schools. Others help by driving and organizing events, from baby showers to picnics.

     The connections enjoyed by community teams allow them to locate refuge families that are in trouble and respond quickly, said Minoo Tavakoli, who escaped from Iran with her family during the revolution in 1985 and went on to head the computer department at the Columbia School of Business before retiring.

     Ms Tavakoli started a support group for the Afghan refugees in 2021 with three other Iranian-American friends and said she has probably helped “hundreds” of Afghans in the months since. She has invested almost $10,000 of her own money and said that her knowledge of Farsi made it easier to communicate with the refugees. Language is a significant barrier to their successful integration, she said.

     As their friendships with the refugees have deepened, so has the teams’ understanding of the resettlement challenges, and this has allowed them to be creative in their response. In April Ms Whitney organized a sale of Afghan rugs at her house and commissioned food for the event from a family of 15 that includes Lala A, 73, an excellent cook. Lala’s dishes proved so successful that the family wants to open a food truck.

     Often, team members respond with acts of simple kindness. Aware that Samira I was lonely, Ms Whitney took her on a tour of museums in Washington with another young refugee woman, Shogofa S, whose parents were killed by the Taliban in a bomb attack and was also pining for her siblings in Afghanistan.

     AP came across many other such examples during this research. Amy Springer, a teacher who has taken over coordination of the Arlington Neighbors Welcoming Afghans, makes a point of taking toys for refugee children whenever she visits a family. Heart for Refugees recently organized a picnic for scores of refugees which enabled Afghan men to reunite with friends they had known back in Afghanistan. Ms Azizi from Homes Not Borders described the event as “cool” and said it had helped to build the Afghan “footprint” in Maryland.

     Collaboration Between Family Teams and the Agencies

      

     

     Acts of kindness: Amy Springer, from the ANWA network of teams in Virginia, delivers a bike to an Afghan family in Manassas. Ms Springer delivers a toy for children every time she visits refugees

     Not all resettlement agencies view the independence of the refugee support teams as a threat.

     The smallest of the three agencies in Maryland, the Ethiopian Community Development Council (ECDC), has supported around 350 Afghans in Maryland since August 2021 and welcomes volunteers because they contribute towards the complete integration of refugees, said Katherine Stockton-Juarez, the agency’s volunteer coordinator.

     ECDC was established in 1983 to raise support for refugees from Ethiopia among Ethiopians living in the US and this focus on the receiving communities “sets us apart from other agencies,” she said. It also requires a long-term, open-ended commitment.

     Ms Stockton-Juarez said that ECDC works with about 135 volunteers and supports several initiatives that enable volunteers to contribute on their own terms. Ten are participating in First Friends, a program that encourages volunteers to build open-ended friendships with refugees. Another program works with “support groups” that help refugee families and often comprise churches.

     Earlier this year, ECDC launched a new pilot project (“co-sponsorships”) to work with teams and asked the New Neighbors Interfaith Alliance in Gaithersburg to sponsor the first family. Bob Cooke, an Alliance coordinator, had worked with ECDC during the Syrian refugee crisis. He told AP that the new assignment was significantly different from the earlier collaboration, when his group had taken over from ECDC after the initial 90 days. When it came to the Afghans, he said, ECDC asked the Alliance to assume the entire range of services (“the whole nine yards!”) from the start.

     Asked whether surrendering authority to the teams represented a risk, Ms Stockton-Juarez agreed that “rogue” volunteers can offer inappropriate support and even lead to the “scamming” of refugees. But she vets the teams carefully in advance, checks in every two weeks and is ready to intervene if she hears complaints or sees signs of “microaggression” in the way team members address the refugees. She has encountered no problems so far and the ECDC now has seven teams working as co-sponsors.

     Others interviewed for this article said that community-based organizations act as a bridge between resettlement agencies on the one hand, and communities on the other. One example is Homes Without Borders, which has provided 420 refugee families with beds, mattresses and home furnishings since August last year, according to Laura Thompson Osuri, the organization’s founder.

     Over 80% of the families have been Afghans and most were referred by agencies, including the IRC, she said: “We love the IRC and they love us.”

     While it works with the IRC, Homes Not Borders also has deep roots in the community, explained Ms Azizi, family service manager for the organization. Ms Azizi came to the US as a refugee at the age of five and well remembers the difficulties that faced her own parents in adapting to their new culture. This has given her an acute sense of the challenge facing the new wave of Afghans and her job gives her latitude to explore innovative approaches that include cooking and embroidery.

     Ms Azizi also serves on the board of two organizations, the Afghan Alliance at Luminus and the Immigrant Refugee and Outreach Center which also allows her to deepen the Afghan footprint in Maryland.

     There is wide agreement that these and other organizations will be critical as the resettlement effort enters the second year. As well as contacts, they offer specialist services that address the needs of vulnerable families that might miss out on government funding after the initial 90 days of Reception and Placement. This is examined in further detail below.

     Damaging Fallout

      

     

     Hilary Smalley (left) and Nancy Plaxico, active members of a family team, organized a hike at the Patapsco State Park for their two refugee families

     The success of ECDC and Homes Without Borders in working with communities has left many frustrated at the lack of collaboration between the IRC and the volunteer teams in Baltimore. This, they said, is doing real damage.

     One concern is rent, which is the single largest expense facing refugees during and after the first 90 days. Most of the 27 families supported by the teams in Baltimore were able to pay their rent during the 90 days through a combination of the federal subsidy (the so-called “welcome money”) and money raised by Ms Whitney and the teams.

     But refugees expressed anxiety and uncertainty over what happened next. The lack of communications between IRC caseworkers and volunteers has done nothing to allay their concerns.

     In a June 28 phone discussion with AP, Myat Lin, the Maryland refugee coordinator, said that his office does offer additional funding for rent after 90 days but that this is not “widely announced.”

     Ms Whitney has since learned that Mr Lin has also pledged a year of support for families that fall behind in paying rent and that he is determined that no Afghan refugee will be evicted in Maryland. The problem, she said, is that this was not communicated to the 27 refugee families in Baltimore or to the team volunteers by Mr Lin’s office or IRC caseworkers.

     Ms Whitney was also upset to hear that her own funds had gone to pay for rent when government money was available, and described this as “waste and duplication.”

     The breakdown in communications has also meant that the 27 families and their teams do not know what to expect after the initial 90 days, and whether or not the IRC remains responsible for their welfare.

     Funding for programs after the 90 days comes through The Office of Refugee Resettlement and is managed by the states. But according to Susan Krehbiel, from the Maryland Presbytery, these programs are not required to offer services to all refugees and are subject to less federal oversight than during Reception and Placement. “The only thing with teeth is (during) the 90 days,” she said.

     This leaves it unclear what the refuges can claim, and from whom. One expert told AP that refugees tend to have “unrealistic expectations” about agency support and assume “it will last forever.” This should have been addressed at US Army bases during the first phase of Operation Allies Welcome but, she said, cultural orientation at the bases was cut short because of the numbers and urgency of moving the refugees off base and into states. Rumors then spread quickly by word of mouth as refugees arrived in the states and began comparing services.

     There seems little chance of any agreement soon between the Baltimore teams and IRC. Mr Lin has urged the volunteers to help their families fill out a form designating the volunteers as representatives, and then work through agencies.

     Ms Whitney said that she will agree to a background check, and had already undergone a check through Luminus. But she is unwilling to work under the IRC. Barbara Ferris, president of the International Women’s Democracy Center, another critic of the IRC’s early handling of arrivals in Baltimore, was more blunt. Working with the IRC at this stage, she said, “would damage our credibility.”

     Several people interviewed for this article warned that the continuing stand-off and the media coverage it has generated could jeopardize government support for traditional resettlement.

     The Biden Administration has offered to accept 100,000 Ukrainian refugees and announced a new initiative on April 22 to encourage American families to assume the cost of resettling Ukrainians by forming “Sponsor Circles.” But the prospect of the federal government withdrawing altogether alarmed several experts who spoke to AP. One said his agency was worried by the possibility of abuse and even trafficking of Ukrainians.

     Others said that neither the agencies nor the communities can manage resettlement on their own. Volunteers cannot possibly provide consistent services to large numbers of refugees across the country while also adhering to onerous federal regulations. But the agencies cannot afford to ignore volunteers like Ms Whitney who have a direct line into communities.

     “Both approaches are clearly needed,” said Ms Stockton-Juarez from the ECDC.

     The Verdict So Far
     

      

     

     Land of plenty: Newly-arrived refugees discover the supermarket

     The two competing visions of resettlement color how the last year’s efforts are perceived by those who talked to AP for this article.

     Several people described the response of the agencies as nothing short of heroic. According to one federal government analysis, over half of the Afghans considered employable have found jobs and 97% of the Afghan refugees are in permanent housing.

     “Given the shortage of housing and the fact that they arrived with no jobs or a credit history, that is pretty incredible,” said one expert who works on the resettlement of Afghans. “I have been amazed to see what has been done.”

     The expert added that the resettlement agencies had been “extremely creative and committed to resettling Afghans under extremely difficult conditions – housing and labor shortages, the pandemic, and huge pace and numbers.” 

     This was echoed by Mr Lin, the refugee coordinator for Maryland, who said the government’s definition of success is whether a refugee is “able to meet his or her basic expenses with income through employment.” Prior to 2022, he said, around 70% of new refugees found work within 8 months of their arrival in Maryland – one of the best records in the country – although a “few still struggled after the 8 months.”

     Overall, Ms Whitney’s fellow volunteers are proud of their work so far. Hilary Smalley, who works with the two Afghan families headed by brothers in Glen Burnie, clashed with the IRC in March after she withdrew one of the families from housing assigned by the IRC and found work for one of the brothers. The IRC refused to release several thousand dollars of cash assistance given by the Department of State to cover rent for the family’s new apartment.

     But Ms Smalley is content with the outcome. “So many things have worked out well for (the families) that it’s hard for me to get mad,” she said. “They have jobs. Their kids are enrolled in decent schools. They’re happy and they have a car (paid for by the team.) I feel blessed.”

     But while many volunteers share Ms Smalley’s sense of accomplishment, their view of progress so far is overshadowed by the fact that they are working mainly with families in crisis.

     Although the pace has slowed, new cases continue to arrive, said Ms Whitney. In a July 28 email to the IRC she reported that a family in Baltimore that spoke very little English was “panicking” because their electricity had been shut off during a heat wave. After calling the utility company, volunteers learned that the family owed $793.5 because their IRC caseworker had forgotten to change the name on their account. Adding to their woes, the family had no baby formula. The family had tried to contact the caseworker but received no reply.

     Ms Whitney is also worried for a 16-year old refugee who was not enrolled in school and was beaten by his father after an argument. Ms Whitney had helped the father and son move to an apartment in a good school district and found the father a full-time job with benefits. But the boy was not enrolled in school by the IRC and went to work in a 7-Eleven store, only to be accused of stealing $800 by the owner and reported to the police. He later signed a confession even though he could speak barely any English.

     “If he had gone to school, I think the son would have had a better shot at making it,” said Ms Whitney.

     The Challenge Ahead

      

     

     The power of education: Like many Afghan refugee children, Amina, 15, has thrived at school in the US and picked up English quickly

     Jenna Whitney’s experience with Afghan families in crisis has also influenced her expectations for the challenges that lie ahead.

     Most agree that education will not be the problem it was in the early months last year. After being enrolled in school, almost all refugee children have benefited from English language training (ESL) and many have made spectacular progress. During one visit to the Renaissance Plaza building in Baltimore, AP met with Abdullah T, who lost a leg while rescuing an American soldier in Afghanistan. All of his seven children were in school and his older son – who provided translation for his father – had picked up English while waiting on the US army base.

     But Abdullah T himself was struggling to navigate a thicket of regulations and secure disability benefits. His team of volunteers predicted a difficult road ahead.

     Just how difficult it will be, they said, will also depend on the support he receives from other Afghans in the neighborhood. While most families at the Renaissance Plaza have made friends with other refugees in the building, the lack of an Afghan mosque and stores in the neighborhood will add to the problem – one reason why volunteer teams wanted to move families from the building early after their arrival. While an “Afghan footprint” may be emerging slowly in Maryland, it cannot be manufactured artificially or overnight.

     Other refugees at the Renaissance Plaza also made it clear that employment is not always the boon it is made out to be. Akhtar W took advantage of the hot job market and quickly found entry-level work as a gas attendant. Others have worked in food processing and warehouses that require little English and earned an average of around $14 an hour, according to volunteers.

     But this has placed a strain on Akhtar W, who arrived without his family and only qualified for $1,225 in federal support during the first 90 days. He sleeps in the same room as three other Afghan men who also arrived without their families so as to cover the cost of rent. Akhtar W has also been forced to take on additional part-time work in order to meet his own expenses and send money back to his family in Afghanistan. His working day sometimes lasts for 15 hours, he said.

     “Single men and women may seem more resilient but they also suffer more from loneliness,” said Ms Whitney who knows Akhtar W well. The conventional approach to resettlement has no answers for loneliness and depression, she said.

     Volunteers are also uncovering cases of family tensions which escalate into violence. Minoo Tavakoli, who works closely with Ms Whitney, is particularly worried by the pressures on refugee women who usually live with the families of their husbands and tend to be far more isolated in their new American culture than men.

     Ms Tavakoli recently learned of a pregnant refugee in Virginia who was stabbed by her husband after a dispute and only taken to hospital after a friend alerted the police. The case fell under the Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Services (LRIS), which appears to have ignored the dispute for several weeks. An LRIS caseworker eventually called the woman’s husband, even though he was also the abuser.

     In Ms Tavakoli’s view this showed that agency caseworkers are often “overwhelmed” by the number of families they have to manage and lack the skills needed to deal with such complex cases. Merely employing female caseworkers may not be enough, she said. “American women are used to yelling at men, but this does not happen in Afghanistan.”

     Overshadowing everything for many refugees is continued separation from their families in Afghanistan, and uncertainty over their legal status.

     Bob Cooke said that two refugee women known to his team in Gaithersburg had tried to commit suicide after being separated from their families at the airport. One of the women had just learned that her husband had been killed at the airport in an explosion. Separation also forces refugees like Akhtar W to find extra work because they are the only source of income for their families back in Afghanistan.

     Legal worries only add to the strain. Most of the Afghans who arrived under Operation Allies Welcome were not granted asylum, like Ukrainian refugees, but were designated “humanitarian parolees” and given two years to secure permanent residence.

     After a year many refugees feel the clock is ticking. The Biden Administration has given the Afghans temporary protection from deportation through to September 15 of next year and this could be extended. But the mere possibility of deportation adds to the anxiety and stress, said Akhtar W.

     “Coming to America has made me an enemy of the Taliban” he said. “It would be a death sentence for me to go back.” He added that the Taliban were making regular visits to his house in Kabul.

     Fashioning a Community Response
     

      

     

     Shakera Rahimi, a former OBGYN in Afghanistan, directs the Afghan Alliance of Maryland and is much admired for her work with refugee families. By employing Afghans, the Alliance is also helping to build an Afghan footprint in Maryland

     Many volunteers who spoke to AP for this article felt that the sheer range of challenges that lie ahead is another strong argument for their family teams.

     This is partly because they have doubts about the long-term programs funded by the federal government and channeled through states. According to the Office of Refugee Resettlement, Maryland received $4,163,528 for Afghan refugees in an allocation announced on December 29 last year, behind only California, Texas, Virginia and Washington state. When he talked to AP on June 28, Mr Lin said his office was managing 28 cooperative agreements with 10 partners, including the three main resettlement agencies.

     The problem with such programs, said volunteers, is that they do not address the full range of needs and vulnerabilities of individual families, identified above, and because they focus heavily on helping refugees find jobs.

     Some ORR programs certainly do focus on special needs, like Preferred Communities, which offers help to refugees from torture and LGBTQ discrimination as well as victims of trafficking and can run for up to five years.

     But many key services are barely covered. With the legal status of the Afghan parolees still in question, legal aid could be particularly important, but even the ECDC employs only one lawyer who offers pro bono advice one morning a week, said Ms Stockton-Juarez. For Ms Whitney, this makes a compelling case for volunteers like Kathy Hicks who works on Green Card applications as part of a team helping the 15-member family of Lala A near Annapolis.

     Mr Cooke from the NIAA team in Gaithersburg said he is not aware of any psychologists who provide pro bono support for refugees, or specialize in the distress caused by family separation. This underscores the importance of friendship offered by team members.

     As a result, some volunteers expect to add advocacy to their strategy. However exhausting it may be, and however uncomfortable for her targets, Ms Whitney sees no reason to ease her criticism of the IRC. After the controversies of the past year, she also feels there is an urgent need for independent monitoring of the resettlement process and more transparency.

     On January 29 she submitted a detailed complaint about the “dire situation of Baltimore-based Afghan refugees” to the Bureau of Refugees, Population and Migration (PRM) at the State Department. A PRM official replied that the Bureau would follow up “with the organizations involved.” Early in March, Ms Whitney sent a strongly-worded complaint to the office of the Inspector General of the State Department, which referred her to the PRM Bureau.

     At the state level, Ms Whitney has also sent multiple emails to the Maryland refugee coordinator Myat Lin, who himself came to the US as a refugee from Burma 16 years ago. She also contacted Congressman Jamie Raskin and the office of Governor Larry Hogan. Although Ms Whitney talked by phone with Mr Raskin, neither initiative had gone further by the time this article was written.

     Others interviewed for this article said that the system badly needs independent monitoring from people like Ms Whitney. “There is simply no accountability” said Barbara Ferris from the IWDC.

     AP has been told that the State Department conducts spot-checks at short notice to ensure that its procedures are being followed during the first 90 days, and hopes to complete sixty such investigations by the Fall. But the Department also relies on its agency partners to follow up on individual complaints. Ms Whitney assumes this why she heard nothing back after her January 29 complaint to the PRM Bureau.

     Volunteers say that this hands-off approach by the federal government increases the importance of the Maryland Office of Refugees and Asylees (MORA) as a monitor. Myat Lin, the head of MORA, told AP that he had “responded to a number of inquiries and complaints from constituents and community members” and answered every inquiry. But, he went on, his office of four is too small to be proactive and reach out to communities.

     Ms Whitney feels that Mr Lin should be more forceful, given that his office is the conduit for millions of dollars of federal funding. She would like to see him take a tougher line with the agencies, who talk to him on a weekly basis, and follow up aggressively on complaints. Others said that Mr Lin could also play a role in bridging the gulf between the IRC and its critics, and in reconciling the two visions of resettlement outlined in this article.

     Some volunteers also plan to step up their advocacy for family reunification, which has stalled after early promises by the Biden Administration. They will also argue for passage of the Afghan Adjustment Act that would give asylum to Afghan parolees but was put on hold in 2021 and has yet to be taken up by the US Congress. Bob Cooke’s team in Gaithersburg has already approached the office of Chris Van Hollen, one of Maryland’s two senators.

     For Afghan refugees who spoke to AP for this article, such action cannot come soon enough.

     Akhtar W was one of several refugees at the Renaissance Plaza building who expressed concern that the outpouring of sympathy for Afghan refugees in the US last summer has given way to indifference. The main thing that keeps his hopes alive is the friendship and support of Ms Whitney, he said.

      

     Some names have been changed for this article

      

     Iain Guest is director of The Advocacy Project. He reported on refugee issues from Geneva for the Guardian and International Herald Tribune in the 1980s and served as spokesperson for the UN Refugee Agency (UNHCR) in Cambodia during the repatriation of refugees in 1993. Email Iain at iain@advocacynet.org.
     

      

     *

      

      

180. Winding Down and Maintaining Hope Amidst Political Chaos

     August 19, 2022 6:58 pm Leave a Comment

     I feel summer winding down. Whispers of required textbooks and move-in dates are beginning to swirl around in my inbox. I’ve said goodbye to other peace fellows, friends, and family. With the imminent transition back to school and away from my summer fellowship, I can’t help but reflect on the past few months. I find that my summer was much richer having worked on these projects, nourished by the companionship of my zoom meetings, and challenged by the demands of our international development projects. 

     

     Covid awareness training outside of Mitukuli tribal village, India. Photo taken by our partner volunteer Jeevan Rekha Parishad.

      

     Alongside my projects in Bangladesh and India, I was trying to make sense of the world around me. A minoritarian court has swiftly axed the right to privacy. The gun epidemic has become so ingrained in American culture that this past 4th of July, we paradoxically celebrated our freedoms while mass shootings unfurled across the country. Climate change ravages communities around the globe, bowing down to no one–not even the stock market. On top of it all, our leaders seem incompetent and ill-equipped to break the cycle of despair. With all of the woes of the world packaged into headlines and broadcasted to every corner of our hearts, how can one not be cynical? How does one not sit with the confounding, paralyzed by our deeply flawed institutions? I, along with many other people, have felt this sense of disbelief. However, I think cynicism can be an appropriate response to the continuous catastrophic events being hurled at us daily. 

     At the same time, I realized while there is time to be cynical, there is also time for action. Recently, the largest piece of climate legislation was passed in the United States. Only a couple weeks before, voters vowed to protect Roe in states that I would have imagined such a result to be politically infeasible. In my work with The Advocacy Project, I was told that an additional boat to feed families on Mayadip Island is being constructed. Additionally, our partner in India has successfully vaccinated 832 individuals previously deemed inaccessible by the government. That number is continuing to climb. With every gift of good news, I remember that there are so many communities coming together, envisioning a better future for ourselves. 

     I feel grateful to work alongside The AP Staff and our community partners on these projects. I’ve learned that international development in communities takes a lot of communication with the affected community. It is better to build up infrastructure and work alongside local communities without imposing. These connections have proven to be long lasting, dynamic, and impactful. As you can imagine, the creative energy shared by AP and our partners means our projects are a continuous effort to help out. When a project seems to end, we ask ourselves, “What next?” Academically and professionally, I could not have asked for a more positive environment at The Advocacy Project. I felt supported and trusted as an equal by those at the heart of this organization. Their encouragement was infectious, and I hope to carry such positivity wherever I land next. Thank you to my team for a great summer!

      

181. Latrine Handover Ceremony: A Day to Remember

     August 7, 2022 10:50 am Leave a Comment

     With all the preparations leading up to the handover ceremony, there was a lot at stake and a lot of nerves. While Emma and Patrick had done a handful of latrine handover ceremonies over the years and were comfortable speaking to large crowds, this would be my first time delivering a speech to an audience of over one hundred adults.

     Upon arrival to Awach P7, we immediately noticed that the teachers had organized all the students outside to take part in the speech ceremony. While we were not opposed to the idea, we (myself and the GDPU team) did not inform the head teacher to remove the students from their classes. While we attempted to make the event inclusive to the students, microphone troubles prevented us; as a result, the students were sent back to their classrooms and the parents and guests took their seats.

     

     Guests taking their seats before the ceremony

     The handover ceremony began with the recital of the national anthem of Uganda. With over 100 guests in attendance and a speech panel of over a dozen, we were able to proceed. Emma led the introduction, delivering a beautiful speech on behalf of GDPU as well as a speech written by Iain on behalf of Advocacy Project. Speeches were then delivered by guests including the head of the DEO who happens to be from Awach as well as many members of the GDPU board. Joyce, the head teacher, gave a heart-warming speech, thanking all involved who were able to make her dream a reality possible. I followed Joyce’s speech,  giving thanks to the contractor and builders, faculty at Awach P7, Joyce, and the GDPU, and an overall appreciation of gratitude to the parents and all those involved for allowing me to be a part of this latrine project and for welcoming me with kindness and open arms.

     

     Emma giving her speech at the handover ceremony

     After the speech ceremony, it was time to visit the latrines. We all made our way from our seats down the newly cemented path which lead to the girl’s new latrine to the ribbon cutting. Two members from Gulu’s District Education Office and myself cut the ribbon, which was followed by cheering and a rush to get a first glance at the latrines and the changing room. Parents and guests were ecstatic, thanking Emma, Patrick, and myself for a job well done. After the ribbon cutting ceremony, we made our way back to our seats for a special surprise.

     

     Ribbon cutting ceremony

      

     

     Everyone eager to get a glimpse at the new latrines

     Joyce and the faculty at Awach P7 had arranged a cultural dancing show for all the guests as a sign of gratitude. For the next thirty means leading up to lunch, we were presented with beautiful dancing, singing, and even a Boy Scout and Girl Scout presentation. As I sat in amazement and admiration of the performances, I came to see how incredibly vital not only the latrines were, but the involvement of the parents were, truly bringing together the community for a day I will never forget.

     

     Singing and dancing skit about cultural marriage

     After the cultural dancing show, it was time to indulge in our delicious lunch. For the first time in WASH project history, it was not just the guests who were treated to meat, but all the students as well! Beef, posho, beans, and soda were served to over 1,500 people, a feat that was not easy to pull off, but we were able to make it happen! The meat was a very special treat for the students, especially considering the fact they are only served beans, posho, and porridge everyday at school and meat is expensive and often served only for special occasions.

     

     

     Lunch preparation

     After lunch, I connected my phone to the speaker and put on some local Acholi music. Everyone got up off their chairs and started singing and dancing, it was a sight to be seen. While my dancing skills are fair to say the least, I got up, tried to copy the moves, and got everyone clapping and laughing. During the dancing, Joyce made an announcement that there were some gifts for me. I was gifted not one, but two cakes, a beautiful chicken, and a bag full of delicious mangoes. Saying farewell to the faculty, students, and parents of Awach P7 was incredibly difficult, but I hope to return next year as well as keep in touch with Joyce to get updates on how the latrines are functioning.

     

     The chicken I was gifted which I named Kyle Jr.

      

     I will always value my time with GDPU and Awach P7. Thank you Advocacy Project for making this all possible.

      

     

     An incredible day filled with smiles and laughter

182. Two Stickers for the Price of One

     August 1, 2022 6:28 pm Leave a Comment

     As WAP’s funding is nearing to end, it was vital for us to look for ways to reduce the cost of production this summer. Therefore, after dedicating a whole week to organizing WAP’s financials, we decided to see what cost could be reduced and how can we achieve that. From the financials and our conversations, we realized that we could not cut the cost down on raw materials because going cheaper would compromise the quality of the soap. Hence, we started looking for ways to cut costs in other parts of production.  Looking back, I can say that we have achieved this goal in multiple ways. We have found a way to pack the soap bottles in cheaper cases. In addition, we also have established a way to recycle and reuse the soap bottle caps. But one of the most significant ways we have achieved this goal is by; cutting the cost of soap sticker labels by less than a half.

     In our initial conversations, we recognized that we needed to reduce the cost of obtaining the sticker labels for the soap bottles. My first idea was to print the stickers in-house rather than continue using an overpriced external vendor. WAP was also very excited about this vision, but we accepted that due to a lack of budget, we could not execute this plan this year.  Nevertheless, this still remains as one of WAP’s next-year’s visions. Therefore, we have already researched and identified the printer that will help them reduce costs and be more efficient. A label printer will be a logical investment for the organization as WAP requires thousands of sticker labels in every production cycle.

     For now, we shifted our gear to find a new vendor who can print the stickers in a cheaper and more efficient way. The two key things I was seeking from a new vendor were: cost reduction and stickers that are printed precut. During the June Production, I recognized that WAP really needed a more efficient process for stickers. Till now, WAP had been using a vendor who gave them large sheets of printed sticker labels with thousands of stickers on them. WAP girls then manually cut the stickers one by one before peeling and sticking them on the bottles. To understand how efficient this process is, I tried cutting some of the stickers myself. It took me around a minute and a half to cut one sticker. This was when I realized that this process had to change for many reasons.  First, cutting stickers manually takes a lot of time. Second, because cutting stickers was a manual process, there was so much room for errors and irregularities in shapes. Lastly, each sticker costs $0.12 a piece, a big chunk of production cost per bottle.

     

     WAP girls cutting bottle sticker labels manually for hours.

     In search of a better vendor and alternative, Dickson and I visited a new sticker printing company. It was called Vinat Printing Solutions. We had a long and thorough meeting with its sales team, who gave us detailed information and quotation for the stickers. At the end of the meeting, we were very satisfied with their work and the quotation they provided. There were two key points that really made us choose this new vendor. First, Vinat prints precut stickers, meaning we will no longer be cutting the stickers manually. In addition, the price for the Vinat sticker is $0.05 per sticker label, which is less than half of the old sticker price.

     

     Meeting with Vinat Sales Team (looking for a new sticker vendor)

     We are extremely pleased with this development and pleasantly surprised by the margin of cost reduction. I am thrilled that this new sticker will make the production process easier and more time efficient for the WAP girls.

183. New and Improved Case Packaging

     6:21 pm Leave a Comment

     This summer has been challenging and rewarding at the same time. Many accomplishments were part of our work plans, but some were unexpected. One of the incredible and unexpected achievements this summer was finding a way to improve the Clean Girl soap packing process. This improvement came out of a necessity when WAP was stuck in its production cycle and desperately needed a way to complete the production amid an electricity outage.

     As we were nearing the completion of June production, we faced a major electricity challenge. More than 3,000 soap bottles were produced and ready to be packed in 6-pack cases. Unfortunately, we didn’t have electricity at the facility due to a faulty battery and inverter. Since WAP used a heat gun to shrink and seal the case packs, not having electricity caused the bottles to be stuck at the facility. While we were working on buying a new battery and an inverter, the process was taking time. Therefore, on the side, we started brainstorming other ways to package soap cases that wouldn’t require heat so we could deliver the soaps to the markets as soon as possible.

      

     

     Rosemary using a heat gun to seal and shrink the case packs. 

     In this process, Constance and I revisited the NetPak Packaging solution to understand if they had any product that could help us solve this issue. Pepe, the sales agent, brought some samples of plastic sacks that could fit six bottles of soap. We tried the bags by putting soap bottles in them and realized it would work. The only challenge with this new packing system was to come up with a way to seal the top of the bags. In WAP’s old process, a plastic sheet would cover the six bottles, and a heat gun would shrink and seal it from everyside. Since we wanted to avoid using a heat gun, we had to come up with ideas to seal the packs without using electricity.

     Although coming up with an idea to seal the bags was going to be a challenge, we understood that this new packaging system was a great find for many reasons. First, this new way of packing will eliminate the need for electricity in the packing process. Second, it is a faster and more efficient way to pack. And lastly, the cost for these new bags is much lower than the previous packaging that required a heat gun to seal. The new packaging will pack 6000 bottles at a $100 price, whereas the old packaging packed around 4,000 for every $100. Hence this improvement would essentially save the cost of packing around 2000 soap bottles.

     With much excitement, the day after we bought the plastic bags, starting brainstorming for ways to seal the top. We realized that for now, we could use heavy-duty tapes and staplers to seal. The combination of the two creates a strong seal, and the packaging also looks very presentable and easy to carry. This new packing has allowed us to complete our production cycle and deliver soaps to the markets already. We are extremely happy about this improvement, but of course, this is just a first step. We recognize that the sealing process can be better in the future, and WAP will continue to look for ways to perfect it.

     

     WAP ambassador Trish and I trying to find a way to seal the new plastic packs without using electricity.

     

     All sealed up and ready to be delivered in our new packing cases.

184. Day Five and Counting…

     July 19, 2022 2:52 pm Leave a Comment

     Today marks the fifth day of living without electricity and running water. I have a generator half full of fuel which I use only one hour a day to charge all my devices. I also have a small camping stove where I prepare quick meals and drinks such as boiled eggs, noodles, and teas. This is the third power cut in the past two weeks. Every passing day, the Zimbabwean government sends a generic notice that says, “we are working round the clock to fix the issue, and the power should be restored soon.” By now, the term “soon” is starting to lose its meaning for me. Being a Nepali, I am not foreign to frequent power cuts and water shortages; hence I thought I wouldn’t feel this restless. Maybe living in the U.S. has changed me to be used to having electricity and water with no second thoughts.

     Interestingly, one thing I appreciate right now is how the power cuts had led me to disconnect from my electronics and reminisce about the days I lived in Nepal. During those days, frequent power cuts called “load shedding” were common in Kathmandu. Often, we wouldn’t have power for as long as 16-20 hours a day in the winter seasons. The schedule for power cuts was unpredictable. In addition, since the water pumps that supplied government water were connected through electricity, no power meant no running water. Most of the time, load sharing happened during the night times. Power would shut off in the middle of dinners or while watching some Indian drama series and lounging.

     Looking back at those times, I realize how many beautiful memories we created as a family while trying to pass the time during load-shedding hours. We used to sit around the dining table with a candle in the middle and chat for hours. We would go on the rooftop to star gaze and talk to neighbors. We sat on the porch and ate peanuts and oranges while chatting. Perhaps for me, what stands out the most is the memories of my grandparents during those days. Both my grandparents had their fun way of dealing with power cuts. My grandmother loved telling stories, and load shedding gave her the audience she always wanted. Undistracted and attentive. She loved telling us about her life journey, her past incidents, my father’s childhood, and stories about my village and how it used to be so different when she was young. Whatever story she told, she was engaging and theatrical. I don’t know about my siblings, but I immensely enjoyed these stories during power cuts.

     My grandfather’s favorite pastime activity was playing card games. We would sit on the floor in a circle and play cards with him. He knew so many card games and tricks which made it always fun. Sometimes, he would take a quick stroll to pick up some street snacks for us. While playing, we would eat those snacks, chat, and laugh. One another thing about my grandfather that I fondly remember is his persistence in switching on the water pumps frequently at night. Since we had running water only when the electricity worked, he would check the water pump every time the power was back on, no matter when it was. He used to say that the best time to switch on the water pump is when the electricity comes back late at night. According to him, at late night, no one else is pumping water which means we would get an uninterrupted water supply. With this logic, the minute when the electricity would come back on, even if it were at midnight or 3 am, he would run to the water pump and switch it on to see if water was coming. Sometimes, it would work; sometimes, it wouldn’t. But on the days when it would, he used to knock at our bedroom doors to wake us up to fill up water tanks, even at 3 am. Although it wasn’t fun to wake up at those hours to fill up the jars, thanks to him, we always had enough water.

     So, these are the beautiful and fun memories that stay with me even though both my grandparents are not around anymore. Load shedding was serendipity that helped us bond as a family. And I sit here today, thousands of miles away from Nepal, facing similar challenges I am reminiscing those memories for some comfort and smiles.

      

      

185. Coping Mechanisms to Combat Economic Challenges

     2:51 pm Leave a Comment

     The turmoil of economic challenges is not a new phenomenon for Zimbabwe. It has endured recessions and hyperinflations many times. Perhaps these frequent downturns have been the biggest lessons for Zimbabweans to find their own way to cope with economic challenges. They have learned to rely on one another more and less on the government.

     One of the most significant parts of Zimbabwean resiliency is informal markets. Zimbabweans turn to informal markets for everything from buying groceries to catering for other daily needs. Sure, designated shops such as supermarkets and shopping malls exist, but prices in those stores are not affordable for every group of people. This is the reason why informal markets exist. So, where are these informal markets? Its everywhere! If you need some sweet potatoes for dinner, just drive by one of the big boulevards where you will see vendors selling buckets full of sweet potatoes. If you need to do bulk shopping, go to Mbare, where you will find fresh fruits and vegetables at almost half the price of the supermarkets. If you need to buy some clothes, don’t worry, the informal market has that covered too. There is a whole street area where second-hand clothes and shoes are sold. My favorite is always the roadside bananas that I buy quite often. Believe it or not, I have always found them much tastier than the ones I get from supermarkets. After living in this country for a month, I have understood what informal markets mean for the locals. It is the way to deal with high prices and unemployment.

     Informal markets mean job creation, informal markets mean being able to pay for food and services, and informal markets mean continuing life in a volatile economy. Informal markets do not only mean roadside vendors that sell stuff. It extends to providing services such as electricity, transport, repairs, etc. If Zimbabweans need any services, they first scout in their own community for a member who can provide those services instead of going to designated stores. Whether through their church community, personal contacts, or relatives, they find someone who can cater to their needs without having to go to a store where the cost of acquiring those services is often higher.

     Another fascinating thing I have learned about Zimbabwe is how helpful people are to one another. This sense of helping one another is evident in how they resolve transport issues. Zimbabweans understand the challenge of transport all too well. Government public transportation, “Zupco,” serves in limited areas only. As a result, picking up hitchhikers is quite normal here. From main streets to small allies, people do not hesitate to wave at cars passing by to get a lift. That is how people who do not have cars get from one place to another.

     Lastly, Zimbabweans have come to believe that “cash is king.” Let me rephrase that, “US dollar is king.” Rtgs (Zimbabwean local currency) holds very weak value against US dollars which is why Zimbabwean prefer to hold their asset in US dollars. They also feel more comfortable storing their wealth in hard cash (US dollar) because, in the past, the money they kept in the banks lost too much value during hyperinflations. As a result, Zimbabweans feel that the banking system is too risky and that the cash in hand is the only cash that matters. This is why the Zimbabwean market is predominantly cash-based, and it is common for an average person to not have any debit card. If they require any transaction that involves a debit card, they simply borrow it from someone else.

     Overall, amid rising prices and volatile exchange rates, Zimbabweans have found their informal way to survive and carry on. In a country where once one loaf of bread costed 300 billion Rtgs, people have taken it upon themselves to form a system that works for them. In just a month of living here, the cost of a loaf of bread has changed from $1.06 to $2 already. I am concerned about where the Zimbabwean economy is moving once again, disappointed in the lack of government efforts, but hopeful that Zimbabwean resiliency will continue to strengthen them.

186. Cow Camp: A Weekend Out in the Fora

     July 18, 2022 5:09 pm Leave a Comment

     Allow me to set the scene…

     It’s dark outside, and even by my standards it’s very chilly. The CPI Kenya team and myself pull up to a large field in the bush with fires roaring and smoke bellowing in every direction. Samburu and Pokot men are walking around and you can hear conversations filling the background. I bundle up in 3 layers of clothes + a rain jacket sporting very fashionable socks and Tevas.

     Suddenly, it begins to rain. Men start running for shelter under trees, and cooks hurry to pass out the ugali and boiled goat for dinner. The CPI Kenya team runs for the land cruiser and eats our dinners together in the car… until Hilary and Francis go set up tents for our team in the pouring rain.

     We’re at what’s called a fora camp. It’s a startup initiative by CPI Kenya that aims to help facilitate ways for pastoralist herders and warriors to share their pasturelands and in turn adapt to the changing climate, leading to more peace. By agreeing to share their pasturelands, Samburu and Pokot pastoralists are adapting to climate change while reducing the trigger for conflict—diminishing resources like grass and water for their cattle to survive.

     We originally planned for about ~40-50 men from Samburu and Pokot tribes to show up… It turns out that over 200 men stayed the night around the fora (free food has a way of helping the crowds show up J). This meant that over 200 Samburu and Pokot men spent the evening sharing a meal and sleeping under the same trees.

     Monica and I shared a tent together, and are officially bonded for life through the nighttime struggles of camping in the cold rain with a suffocatingly-well sealed tent. Hilary and the Suguta Marmar Chief, John Lekamparish, shared the tent next to us. Francis, however, sacrificed any chance of sleep and slept in the land cruiser to watch over the fora camp during the night. Eventually morning came, as it always does, and daylight perked our spirits. Time for chai!

      

      

     

     Monica and I survived the night!

      

      

     

     Hilary coming to greet us after a long night of no sleep.

      

     

     Chai time

      

     With nighttime behind us, it was time for Hilary to begin the discussions with herders, warriors, and chiefs. (If you haven’t been able to tell yet, this is Hilary’s element—discussing peace with pastoralists surrounded by cows after 2 cups of warm chai.)

     We had to hold a special peace discussion for the herders because they needed leave early to get their cows out to graze. The discussion was lively and productive! It became apparent that some Samburu and Pokot herders are already sharing their pastureland but that rogue warriors from interior villages are the ones destroying peace.[1] Elders and warriors both spoke about the need to hold their own people accountable (like arresting rogue warriors and returning stolen livestock) to preserve peace between Pokot and Samburu tribes.

     Herders also explained that it’s hard for them to attend peace meetings because they’re usually held in towns and they’re unable to attend. They asked the chiefs and elders to bring the peace meetings out to them more frequently so they can be more involved in the peace process.

     Hilary took special care to speak during the discussions about how the changing climate is forcing them to adapt and find new solutions for the pastoralist lifestyle. He explained that sharing land and water is a key part of adapting to the changing climate AND maintaining peace. Warriors, herders, and chiefs alike agreed that this is extremely important and more discussions must be held to figure out how it can safely happen. Herders are worried that a public schedule for sharing land might make them vulnerable to more raids.

      

     

     Hilary speaking with the chiefs, herders, and warriors about the importance of sharing resources to maintain peace.

      

     It’s one thing to understand pastoralism or climate change or peacebuilding from a book. But it’s a different kind of understanding completely to experience it (for a night) with pastoralists in their own world. CPI Kenya’s fora camp startup is an important program because, like peace camps, it meets people where they are. Instead of taking pastoralists out of their environments to discuss peace, CPI Kenya brings the peacebuilding to them. In this case, they’re bringing it to the fora where the conflict literally happens. People can begin to see the humanity they share with someone from a different tribe and be exposed to that person’s environment.

     CPI Kenya hopes to host another fora camp with the same group of men, but this time in a Pokot fora. For sustained and truly transformative peacebuilding to work, it needs to be consistent. You can help CPI Kenya continue hosting fora camps by donating to their GlobalGiving campaign on July 2oth!

      

     

     Group photo with everyone who stayed to the end fora camp.

      

      

     

     My friend, Simon, and I. Simon is a Samburu pastoralist. He just spent a year away from his family herding their livestock across East Africa. Simon and I became fast friends after talking about Hollywood movies and his life as a pastoralist.

      

      

     

     A dying cow lays among branches, too weak to eat the leaves his owner has laid in front of him.

      

      

     

     Samburu cows in their pen.

      

      

     

     Herders leaving the fora camp to take their livestock out to graze.

      

      

     

     Chiefs, herders, and warriors gathering to begin the afternoon discussions.

      

     

     Hilary taking a much-earned nap after the fora camp—it was a long but exciting 2 days!

      

     [1] CPI Kenya works with frontline villages, like Longewan and Amaya, to begin the peace process. Frontline villages are locations where the boundaries of 2 different tribes exist. Starting the peace process in frontline villages helps create a “peace barrier” between the boundary and interior villages who might try to hold raids against another tribe.

187. Farewell But Not Goodbye

     July 17, 2022 8:00 am Leave a Comment

      

      

     

     Almost finished with the training

     It was an incredibly emotional ending to our embroidery training in Gulu. 

     All of the blocks were completed, photos were taken, plans were made for next blocks and new designs.  Then we sat in a circle and Victoria asked anyone who wished to do so to tell us (the AP team) what the experience of the embroidery project had meant to her. 

     I thought the training had gone well.  The women seemed to enjoy it and we had become “quiet” friends – nothing loud or boisterous but just nice. I was not prepared for the responses we received. 

     Nighty was the first to speak and she did so for a good five minutes, explaining that being a part of this group had helped her to feel a part of something important and how she really felt she had accomplished something this week.  She said she was sorry that they had nothing to give to us to show how much they appreciated our efforts.

     Concy spoke next and said because of this project and the payment she received today, she would be able to pay her child’s school fees so he could continue.  Then Stella spoke, very softly telling us how she had joined other groups but none that were so transparent and welcoming.  She spoke about how she felt when her child died and no one was there to support her but this group of women support her and the training has given her purpose. We were all wiping our eyes by the time she had finished.

     Judith told us that her daughter who is struggling to stay at university had received an eviction notice but this money would allow her to help her daughter.  Margaret, proudly wearing an Obama tee shirt, called the training a miracle – that someone would care for them at a difficult time (speaking of the pandemic) and would follow through on what they had promised.

     Every woman who spoke, and they all did, added to this feeling of being a part of something larger than themselves – a sisterhood, a group of people they could now call upon for help in times of need. Even sweet, shy Concy A. brought a tear when she too said how fortunate she felt to be a part of this project which had given her so much already.

     And then it was my turn to speak.  It was difficult to gain control of my emotions and my voice.  But I was able to tell them that they had indeed given me something very valuable.  Although many of my experiences during COVID, when this project with the war survivors started, were clearly different from their own struggles, I told them of how lonely and hopeless I felt but how the blocks they made for the war story quilts and the COVID quilt made me feel connected to them. I told them that working to get their blocks made into quilts had given me purpose.  I told them that their strength had given me strength and their work had made me a better artist too.  I told them we had established a sisterhood of strong, creative women.

     I have said over and over that the embroidery we carry out through The Advocacy Project is important. The story quilts help the world to understand the struggles and tragedies of many people.  The COVID quilts help others understand not just the different experiences of this horrible time, but also the shared experiences regardless of geographic location or economic situation.  Generating income has become another important outcome of the projects.

     However, as I’ve now worked personally with groups in four countries, I know for certain that the most important aspect of this embroidery is the sharing and healing that occurs when women come together to create and to help others and themselves.  The women today each spoke of that impact on their lives and I do as well.  We stitch together.  We heal ourselves and we heal each other.

188. From Pokot Warrior to Peace Ambassador

     July 14, 2022 4:47 pm 1 Comment

     Amosilia, a former Pokot warrior, had what he considered a normal childhood. He grew up wearing no clothes and experienced a lot of hunger. During a conversation about his life, he said that he remembers slaughtering animals at a young age for his family to eat and the droughts that would come for his family’s livestock. Amosilia would also come to be a shepherd for his family’s livestock.

      

      

     

     Amosilia Kipkiror

      

     Like most young, pastoralist Pokot men, Amosilia eventually became a herder. He explained that it’s just part of life for young men grow up to take care of the livestock and herd them to different areas (sometimes other countries) to find grass and water for grazing. Sometimes they spend months or even years away from family with their herds.

     Drought is a normal part of life for pastoralists in Northern Kenya and cattle raiding is part of the territory. When drought strikes, herders become warriors and steal cattle from other tribes to replenish their own herds. This leads to even more raids to take back the stolen cattle—the cycle continues and animosity between tribes grows. But in recent years droughts have become longer and more frequent—drying up essential natural resources with it and leading to more cattle raids and conflict between tribes.

     Amosilia himself became a warrior in the raids, taking livestock from other tribes to refill his herd and defending his own herd from raiders. He explained that during conflict, before peace, he experienced so much loss and death. He lost friends and family, and said that women and children were also killed during raids. No one was exempt from the inter-tribal conflict.

     But one day during a raid, one of Amosilia’s close friends was shot. Amosilia and his friends tried to carry his friend to safety, but he fell unconscious and they were unsure whether he was alive or dead. So, they left him for dead. A few days later, Amosilia got a call from his wounded friend. He was alive! Amosilia went to his friend. And from that day on, his heart was changed and he would no longer participate in raids.

     These days, Amosilia is an ambassador for peace. He’s the peace chairman for Pokot warriors in Amaya village and is the leader of a group that watches the Pokot/Samburu boundary to apprehend cattle raiders and return stolen cattle back to their owners. (I asked how many livestock he’s returned and his response was: “sana (a lot)! The amount is unaccountable!”).

     I asked Amosilia what kind of challenges he faces when it comes to peacebuilding. He said his biggest challenge is that: “war is easy but peace is hard. You use a lot of effort to create peace, but war starts with just a spark.” He also said that he’s faced a lot of discrimination from some people in communities for wanting to create peace. Other warriors and people who want war insult him and treat him badly for wanting to change the status quo.

     Amosilia is a visionary. He hopes that by creating peace, children in his community can go to school uninterrupted and that people in his community can find alternative livelihoods rather than fighting and herding. He said that it’s important to find warriors and help them transform into agents of peace.

     His message to me at the end of our conversation was clear: “peacebuilding must be consistent—it cannot be reactive or seasonal.” He directly addressed donors and organizations who support peace programs to say that they should give funding for continuous peace work and not piecemeal programs that are not sustainable or transformative for the pastoralist community.

     One way that CPI Kenya is helping create peace between pastoralists is by hosting fora camps. Fora camps gather warriors, herders, and chiefs all in one to figure out how they can reduce conflict and adapt to climate change by sharing their natural resources. If you’d like to help CPI Kenya continue their peace work with warriors so that this startup can indeed be consistent, donate to their GlobalGiving campaign!

      

     

      

     1 Comment

     Iain Guest

     July 17, 2022

     Very inspiring story that shows how peace-building is first and foremost about PEOPLE! Also interesting how Amosilia’s own views changed after the near death of his friend. The fact that he has been criticized by neighbors for his change of heart shows that working for peace can be unpopular. This really adds to our understanding of CPIK’s work.

189. Uganda: A Contrast in Style and Spirit

     July 12, 2022 8:19 am Leave a Comment

     

     Training in Uganda Under the Mango Tree

      

     Day One of embroidery training in Uganda and the contrast to Zimbabwe could not be more evident.  The ladies of Uganda are more mature, more practiced in their embroidery skills, and far more serious than their younger counterparts.  Introductions were very formal and there was a shyness about them, as though they didn’t have any idea of their ability.  When we showed them photos of three of the quilts that their embroidery had produced (war stories, COVID, and bread) they were really delighted that their work had been presented so well.  I wish I had jettisoned a couple more shirts and trousers to make room in my suitcase for at least one of the quilts.  I think seeing it in person would have shown their artistry to even greater advantage.

     Then, on to the business at hand – embroidery.  These ladies are very interested in having their work become a regular source of income.  When Victoria and I met in Washington, DC earlier this summer, we  discussed themes that the ladies might attempt and we settled on birds of Eastern Africa. I sent her photos of the most colorful and iconic avian subjects I could find and she commissioned an artist to produce sketches that could be used for embroidery. 

     I would have preferred discussing this with the ladies, but our time is short and Victoria seemed to think this was a subject they would embrace – and they did. Each chose a bird to her liking and, based on color photos, began to select threads to match.  They really wanted threads to match exactly what they saw in the photos but that’s just not possible so I began to draw on their creativity.  What color could you use instead?  Which colors are the most important in this design?  How could you create a color you want if there isn’t one available in the hundreds of skeins of embroidery floss I had brought for them? 

     As I suspect they have done for much of their lives, they found a way to make it work.  Many of them are working by using two different colors at once to create a new color.  The effect is amazing and they are very pleased with their work.

     As the afternoon progressed, their experience with needlework became even more apparent.  Their stitches were consistent, even, very neat and they were fast!  When I teach embroidery, I always tell my students that “good is better than fast!”.  Here, I got both – good and fast!  I have no doubt that many will finish their first block before the training ends on Friday.

     One thing that has slowed me down a little is that much of the instruction has to be done with an interpreter.  I can show them how something is to be done but much of that still requires an explanation and “embroidery words” are probably not the most important ones taught during English instruction.  However, as with any group, those who were first to grasp a new concept, quickly helped others. That sense of support and sharing is one of the important results of coming together for this work.  They support one another, they encourage one another, they share ideas and thread.

     “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts” clearly applies here.  I simply cannot overestimate the benefits of coming together to share the creative process.

     As the afternoon progressed, you could see them relax more with each stitch.  The smiles became more frequent and now and then a burst of laughter would let me know that we had reached the sweet spot of what this training represents.  Yes, it’s a way to earn money. Yes, it’s a way to hone their skills to perhaps improve their income even further. But, more importantly, it’s a way to share positive experiences and to feel good about themselves after the terrible hardships they’ve endured.

190. In Zimbabwe Colors Matter

     July 9, 2022 1:53 pm 2 Comments

     As my journey of living in this beautiful country continues, I am learning more and more about how unique Zimbabwe is. Everyday there is something I learn that makes me go, “Oh, I see!” One very interesting thing I learned recently is; about Zimbabweans’ love for colors. In Zimbabwe, color matters, which is very apparent in everyday life, from their vibrant cultural attires to colorful product packaging at supermarkets.

     I never thought I would write about colors, but here we are! When I learned through my WAP team what colors mean for soap production, I couldn’t help but write a short blog about it. So, in one of my initial meetings with WAP, I came to understand a recent challenge that they were facing in soap production. Some customers had recently commented about the discoloration of the soap. The dye used in the soap was separating from other chemicals when the temperature was too warm. To tackle this issue, I started learning more about soap production and how vital a dye is in making soaps. After understanding the production process and the ingredients used in soap, I realized that dye is not one of the essential elements in making soaps. In other words, you can make a dish soap without using dye.

     With this realization, I was super excited to have the conversation about possibly leaving dye out of the soap process and producing soaps without it. I proposed that doing so would make our soap product even more appealing to customers as we are using fewer chemicals in the products. In addition, this solution will also cut the cost of production down as we will eliminate one raw material from the production. To my surprise, the response from the WAP team was totally different. When they heard my idea of leaving the dye out of soap, they all said, “No! We can’t do that. We need color.” This was when they started talking about the importance of color in Zimbabwe. WAP ambassadors mentioned that people love color in Zimbabwe. Colors symbolize quality, aesthetics, and appeal. When customers use soap with color, they think it’s a good quality soap and cleans the dishes properly. If there were no color, people would feel like the dish soap was not good enough for use or is spoiled. Therefore, the idea of taking the dye out of the soap process was not a viable one.

     While we are still working on solving this issue of discoloring soap, tackling this issue has turned into an opportunity to learn more about Zimbabwean culture and reflect on the contrast between the U.S. and Zimbabwean markets. In the U.S., with changing generations, people are leaning more and more towards natural products and prefer cutting down on added chemicals and colors in products. These days, markets are filled with products that have tag words such as all-natural, chemical-free, 100% natural color, no color added, etc. People are often willing to pay more for products with such tag words. Whereas in Zimbabwe, customers are drawn toward products with vibrant colors and packagings. They care about the color of their products; whether natural or added, they must be vibrant and colorful. When you visit stores, you will hardly see products in darker colors, such as black or grey. Most market products have vibrant color packagings, usually in red, yellow, orange, and blue. As one of the WAP ambassadors said, “In Zimbabwe, colors matter from baby products to household essentials; if there is no color, it’s not good enough.”

191. Positive Vibes and KFC

     1:24 pm 2 Comments

     We’ve just completed Day Two of embroidery training in Harare, Zimbabwe.  I’ve seldom had a group of such enthusiastic students.  When I arrived on site this morning, they were already hard at work practicing the stitches I had shown them the day before.  It was a pleasure to point out to them that their stitches were improving with each new attempt.  They were attentive, asked questions and asked for clarification as needed.  Additionally, they were all so supportive of one another. And the laughter. . .  How do I begin to describe that?  Joyous! Infectious! Heart-felt!

     My plan (and, as a lifelong teacher, I did have one!) was to have them embroider African birds, or flowers, or butterflies.  They were having none of that.  They politely looked at the books I had lugged from home, set them aside and began checking out images on their cell phones.  So, what designs did they come up with?  We have several African village scenes. There are women cooking over an open fire or winnowing grain (with babies on their backs). There are blocks with African instruments – drums and rattles made of gourds.  And one young woman walked in with an axe she wanted to show on her block.  This was not just any axe but a beautiful one with a sleek and glossy ebony handle.  The blade looked to be hand-hewn and clearly not assembled by any machine.  I’m not sure why it was so appealing to me, but I would really love to bring it home.  That’s not likely to happen.

     I’ve been able to share my “tricks of the trade” about how to thread needles and tie knots.  I’ve given them several mantras to commit to memory and repeat as they are working: “Loose stitches are better than tight ones!”  “Keep your thread on the same side of the stitch!”  “Small stitches are usually better!” and, of course, the most important, “High quality is essential!”  They are quoting these back to me with a twinkle in their eye.

     We are focusing on the positive, about what they can do, not on what they can’t.  When it came time to draw designs for their blocks after a day and a half of learning and practicing stitches, there was almost a chorus of, “I can’t draw!” I was able to convince most of them that they really could.  Those few who didn’t believe me, enlisted the aid of one of the girls who graciously helped them out.  She was definitely pleased that her skill was recognized.  I admit it is not always easy for me to tell a girl she has to take out some stitching because it just doesn’t meet the standard (High Quality!) but they take it well, cheerfully starting again.

     I have to say, I was the one who usually called for a break during the day.  They never complained. They never stopped working.  In fact, when lunch was finally ready today, it took me a while to get them to stop, even though we were serving their favorite – Chicken n’ Chips from KFC.  When they settled down to eat, that’s when the room got really quiet.  As they finished, the laughter rose once again, they gathered their things, and left for home with happy calls of “See you tomorrow,” ringing in the air.

              

192. Behind the Scenes: Building the Women’s Entrepreneur Network

     July 6, 2022 4:27 pm Leave a Comment

     The CPI Kenya team is in Samburu and Baringo Counties to work on launching a Women’s Entrepreneur Network between women in opposing Samburu and Pokot tribes.

     Every morning, we visit a restaurant in Suguta MarMar, a small town on the way to the Longewan, a Samburu village. I have a chapo mayai (chapati and fried eggs) with a Krest (the Kenyan version of Sprite). We’re regulars by now—the servers automatically including chili sauce for my order. After we finish breakfast, we head up the ~30 minute drive to Longewan.

     In what was once a battlefield, now stand concrete houses and homesteads. Herders and their livestock roam up and down the countryside grazing. 10 years ago the Samburu people in Longewan and Pokot people in Plesian were at war with each other—raiding livestock and repaying raids with retribution. Hilary told me that at one point, over 40 people a year were dying from cattle raids. But in the 10 years since CPI Kenya finished its peace program between the two communities, development has boomed in both communities and deaths have drastically gone down—almost vanishing.

      

     

     Longewan is filled with flat, wide open country like this. Here, a herder is taking livestock home at the end of the day.

      

      

     

     A very normal occurrence— cow traffic on the road to Longewan.

      

      

     

     We saw elephants on the side of the road one of our first nights in Suguta MarMar!

      

     With the Women’s Entrepreneur Network mission in mind, we spent 2 days following leads from select Longewan community members (teachers, chiefs, and businesswomen) to help us find 5 Samburu women to be part of the network. From morning to evening each day we drove across town—finding women, learning about their background, and getting consensus from mobilizers that the group dynamics would work well. We spent a lot of time trying to make sure the process was fair, and that political/familial biases didn’t play too big of a role—a soft science skill that pays off in droves!

     We spent our 3^rd day in Longewan visiting our list of women. We sat down with each woman and got to know more about her business, her needs and goals, and her relationship with Pokot customers. After our discussions, the women decided if they wanted to be part of the network. Then, I had the opportunity to interview each of them (don’t worry—more to come on who these fantastic women are!).

     SNEAK PEAK:

      

     

     Josephine (right, purple shirt), part of the Samburu Women’s Entrepreneur Network, grinding maize for her Pokot customers on market day.

      

      

     

     Margaret, a member of the Samburu Women’s Entrepreneur Network, stepping out of her restaurant for a quick break. On market days, when Pokot buyers come to Longewan, Margaret can serve over 100+ Pokot customers! In fact she was so busy this market day, when we went inside for lunch she didn’t have any food left.

      

     

     Francis, me, and Hilary posing at the eco-conservancy in front of views of the Rift Valley.

      

      

     

     Me trying to look like I can drive a 2002 Toyota Land Cruiser. (I can’t, but it’s my goal to get Francis to teach me by the time I leave Kenya!)

      

      

     

     View of the Rift Valley

      

      

     

     View inside the eco-conservancy.

      

     On Monday July 4th, we gathered the group of 5 Samburu women and facilitated a group discussion to help them come up with a group business plan, goals, and decide how the network will promote inter-community peace between Longewan and Plesian. No spoilers… but the Samburu women even decided to create a social welfare emergency fund out of their savings plan to help their Pokot neighbors when needs arise. And after an extremely stimulating 2-hour discussion, the ladies surprised us with lunch and tea!

     Now, we’re starting the process all over again in the Pokot village of Plesian.

      

      

     

     Quite possibly the best eggs, bread, and tea I’ve ever had. Courtesy of Hilary’s friend who runs this restaurant in Plesian.

      

     

     Sipping tea and eating chapo mayai for lunch in Plesian.

      

     

     Market day in Plesian.

      

      

     This first week in Samburu and Baringo counties was hard and inspiring. I’ve spent long days witnessing the Samburu and Pokot people’s resilience in the face of climate change. Right now it’s meant to be rainy season when farmers in Longewan harvest their maize crops… but for the past 2 years it hasn’t even rained long enough for stocks to grow… So gates to plots of withering plants are laid open for cows and goats to eat what remains with no hope that a harvest can come. This is the reality of climate change in Longewan. And it reaches into every crevice of life—it means people go hungry, their livelihoods are reduced, they can’t afford to send their children to school, and the domino effect goes on and on.

     But initiatives like the Women’s Entrepeneur Network will help give women in Longewan and Plesian the support to keep adapting to the shocks of climate change in their life, all while building bridges of peace between the two communities.

     And so we journey on—one chapo mayai at a time.

     Stay tuned to learn more about Cow Camp, the Women’s Entrepreneur Network. On July 20th, you can contribute to the start ups via GlobalGiving!

     Posted By Julia Holladay

     1 Comment

     Iain Guest

     July 10, 2022

     This is another really strong blog, Julia! Such a great description of how the new network is starting to come together and how it is building on existing relationships and activities. For example, fascinating to hear that Margaret and Josephine (Samburu) and serving so many Pokot clients. Without the wholehearted and enthusiastic participation of the entrepreneurs on both sides, this cannot be sustained. I wonder if it will be so easy to form a network on the Pokot side? Look forward to learning more about that. Also, VERY keen to hear how the second start-ups (cows) is coming along. Finally – your appeal goes up on GlobalGiving this next week….

193. Adapting to Peace

     June 29, 2022 3:47 pm Leave a Comment

     

      

     The Pokot village of Chepkalacha sits above Lake Baringo. It’s hilly terrain is mixed with valleys of sturdy, thorny bush and vegetation with termite hills scattered around. There’s no power, electricity, network, or tarmac roads—dusty, red clay, rocky trails give way to Chepkalacha’s city center and to Chepkalacha Primary School where CPI Kenya held their holiday peace exchange with Pokot and Ilchamus students. The land is harsh (yet beautiful). But the people are kind, welcoming, and hospitable.

     The people of Chepkalacha are pastoralists, meaning they raise livestock and migrate with their herd as they rotate through pasturelands to graze. Migration is varied, some staying closer to home while others (like one boy who attended the peace activities) go as far as Uganda with their herds. It’s an important way of life in Chepkalacha and throughout Northern Kenya that dates back millennia. Reverend Thomas Lasaja, a minister in Kiserian, explained to me that pastoralism is not just a livelihood—it’s extremely meaningful and is the center for a lot of cultural and societal traditions.

     But with the onset of anthropogenic climate change, pastoralism has also become increasingly risky. Natural resources like water are drying up and the frequency and intensity of drought is increasing. Climate shocks kill livestock, compound conflict between tribes, and make life much harder for pastoralist communities.

     TepTep, a teacher at Lomuge Primary School close to Chepkalacha, told me about his own life as a pastoralist. As a young boy, he dropped out of primary school to be a herdsman. He was a herder for 5 years until a drought came and killed almost all of his herd. With almost no cattle left, TepTep resumed his education and is now a teacher in the area where he grew up. TepTep’s story is similar for many young pastoralist boys—herds take precedence over education until a shock, usually drought, draws them back to pick up their education again.

      

     

     TepTep (left) and I on the last day of the holiday peace exchange.

      

     Chepkalacha Primary School Headteacher, Madame Rhoda, talked to me about the impacts that the changing climate is having on women in Chepkalacha. She said that women in the village are walking longer distances to collect water. This then eats into their time/capacity to make money or find food for their family. In some situations, she said that young girls are forced to stay at home and help their families to fetch water, look after siblings while parents find jobs, and look after the home. Madame Rhoda emphasized that climate change has put an enormous emotional burden on women and girls in Chepkalacha.

      

     

     Madame Rhoda (far right) with her family at the holiday peace exchange closing ceremony.

      

     Despite the difficulty pastoralists face by way of climate change, the Pokot people I met in Chepkalacha are unwaveringly resilient. Their ancestors have adapted for thousands of years to East Africa’s climate, and their resolve remains.

     Chepkalacha Primary School’s participation in CPI Kenya’s peace camp and holiday peace exchange is an example of the community’s desire to continue adapting. But it’s not just their participation. They went out of their way to share what resources they do have with CPI Kenya staff to host the holiday peace exchange and make it successful—from providing mattresses for CPI Kenya staff to sleep on to parents’ generosity towards Ilchamus students. Both villages participating in the peace camps, Chepkalacha and Kiserian, have taken this opportunity for peace seriously.

     In the long run, peace will not only reduce conflict between Pokot and Ilchamus, but will help them continue to adapt to climate change stressors by sharing resources with other tribes. By sharing pastureland, the hope is decreased conflict because herds will have access to pastures when drought kills vegetation and makes water scare. Through freer movement, the two communities can trade and create economic interdependence/alternative livelihoods.

     Peace creates ripples of opportunities. It makes all aspects of life better for those who have it. CPI Kenya’s work to help pastoralists create peace is an integral part of helping them tackle other problems, too, like mitigating and adapting to climate change.

     1 Comment

     Iain Guest

     June 30, 2022

     Love the way you’re moving the discussion – and your own observations – from the children’s peace camps to the larger challenge of climate change. And doing it through people and profiles! Really good stuff Julia. We’re getting a wonderful sense of how your own journey is progressing and a deepening understanding of how these issues all hang together. Keep it up!

      

194. Feelings are real. Feelings are helpful. Feelings are neither good or bad

     June 27, 2022 3:27 pm Leave a Comment

     “Feelings are real. Feelings are helpful. Feelings are neither good or bad.”

     That’s the takeaway from a lesson Hilary and Monica teach at their holiday peace exchanges with students from tribes in the midst of violent conflict. They use the lesson to teach students about emotional regulation and how they can use their feelings in constructive ways when it comes to conflict de-escalation.

     I’ve found myself revisiting this lesson quite a bit in the last 3 days since the United States Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade. It turns out I have quite a lot of feelings about it. Outrage, confusion, sadness, overwhelmed, tired, scared, helpless to name a few…

     Parts of me feel very heavy about the Supreme Court’s decision. Abortion is still legal in Washington D.C. where I live, but I’m grieving for people across the U.S. living in states with trigger laws or intentions to ban it in the coming weeks/months. Part of me feels tired from what feels like endlessly fighting and caring about basic human rights in a country that spends over $800 billion on its military rather protecting its children from school shootings. Part of me feels helpless because I’m halfway around the globe from protests and my friends and family.

     Part of me also feels extremely grateful. I’ve lived a comfortable, privileged life. I’ve had amazing work, education, and travel opportunities. I’m healthy. But that’s not the case for 36% of Kenyans who live below the international poverty line, the 41% of Kenyans who do not access to clean water, or pastoralists in Northern Kenya in the midst of violent conflict. I almost feel selfish for caring about a U.S. Supreme Court ruling when there is so much work to be done in Kenya, too.

     In reality I know that ALL my feelings are real. ALL my feelings are helpful. And ALL my feelings are neither good or bad. I know that emotions aren’t binary. As I talked about in my first blog, multiple things can be true at once. My feelings about Roe v. Wade are valid. And my feelings about what I’ve seen in Kenya thus far are also valid.

     I’m a firm believer that all healing happens in connection. At the end of the day, connection to myself and others has kept me going in the past 3 days. Taking time to reflect, write, and breathe has kept me going. Stretching has kept me going. FaceTiming with my dear friend Martha back home has kept me going. Connecting with Monica and going to see a movie with her has kept me going.

     This coming week, myself and the CPI Kenya staff leave to launch 2 startups in Northern Kenya[1]. One is a women’s entrepreneur network that aims to empower pastoralist women to build their own businesses and create sustainable livelihoods/opportunities for peace between 2 warring tribes. Another is a cow camp that will bring warriors from 2 opposing tribes together to figure out how they can share resources, like pastureland. These projects are keeping me going.

     I have no wise words to say. But I’ll leave you again with the mantra I’ve been repeating to myself: feelings are real. Feelings are helpful. Feelings are neither good or bad.

     [1] (You can donate on to help us launch these startups on July 20^th via GlobalGiving!)

     2 Comments

     Bobbi Fitzsimmons

     June 28, 2022

     Julia, I share your feeling about Roe v. “being overturned. I was there (not exactly on the front-lines, but perhaps the next tier back.) I’ve worked for women’s rights for many years and feel as though we’ve all been slapped down by a hierarchy that doesn’t care about our issues. “When sleeping women wake, mountains will move.” Chinese proverb

     Iain Guest

     June 30, 2022 

     Very honest expression of your feelings, Julia, and as Bobbi notes this is a time of deep anxiety and reflection here in the US. To say that people are shocked by the Supreme Court decision here is an understatement and it does seem extraordinary that the main court in the land has turned its back on protection. Not just women. The next day it made it much easier for people to carry guns – a month after 20 school kids were gunned down in their classroom. Now we learn that the elected president of the US launched an armed coup to bring down the government here. You respond to Roe v Wade as a woman, and I get that. I’m asking whether we have any right whatsoever to preach democracy and reproductive rights to the rest of the world.

      

195. Sparking Flames of Peace

     June 23, 2022 3:56 pm Leave a Comment

     In a previous blog, I talked about what happens at peace camp. On June 16^th-19^th, CPI Kenya held a peace camp part 2 of sorts, known as a holiday peace exchange between the same two villages, Chepkalacha (Pokot) and Kiserian (Ilchamus). This time, we were hosted by Chepkalacha Primary School. Unlike peace camps, which are mostly focused on building friendship through fun and games, the holiday peace exchange teaches students about feelings and conflict de-escalation…

     It was particularly hot that day, and the two of us both needed a break from playing games that Hilary was leading nearby… so Dickens, a young Ilchamus boy from Kiserian, and I took a seat under the shade of a big tree in a field near Chepkalacha Primary School.

      

     

     Dickens and I talking and cooling off in the shade.

      

     Dickens and I talked about the U.S. and Kenya, how long it takes him to walk to school (1.5 hours each way!) and bonded over how we both love school—sharing our favorite courses and what we like to study. (Dickens enjoys English best and I like history). I asked him if he had made any friends over the past month and what he felt about the peace camp. “I’m sad to leave my friend today. But I’m excited for Brian to come to my house soon so we can kick the ball together out front,” said Dickens. Brian is Dickens’ Pokot friend from Chepkalacha—they became friends at the peace camp in Kiserian just two weeks earlier. He continued: “I hope that one day even our parents can become friends and that there will be peace.”

      

     

     Brian (left), myself, and Dickens (right)

      

     A month ago, Dickens’ hope for friendship and peace was not achievable. The people from Chepkalacha belong to the Pokot tribe, and Kiserians to Ilchamus. They’re in the midst of conflict because as natural resources like water dry up, some pastoralists engage in cattle raiding to refill their herds. Cattle raids by one tribe are repaid with retaliation from the tribe whose cattle were stolen, and on and on it goes as animosity builds between Pokots and Ilchamus.

     But because of CPI Kenya’s work the past month with Pokot and Ilchamus students, over 100+ students like Dickens and Brian are now friends and examples in their communities that peace is possible between the two communities.

     On the last day of the holiday peace exchange, Pokot family members came to Chepkalacha Primary School for the closing ceremony. The same tree that Dickens and I sat under a few hours earlier was now filled with Pokot family members gifting Ilchamus students chickens, snacks, money, and homemade goods. There was an air of celebration and excitement, with Pokot parents lining up to have their picture taken with their children’s Ilchamus friend.

      

     

     Chepkalacha Chief Jeremiah Saban and Madam Rhoda (Chepkalacha Primary School headteacher, Chepkalacha High School Prinicpal, and the Chief’s wife) giving their childrens’ Ilchamus friends (far right and middle left) gifts.

      

      

     

     Pokot mothers (far left and far right) giving their daughters’ Ilchamus friend (center) gifts.

      

     

     Pokot parents giving their daughter’s Ilchamus friends (middle in red and blue dresses) a chicken.

      

     Goodbyes have always been hard for me. I once cried saying bye to a dog I met during a two-week high school exchange program. So I won’t pretend that the closing ceremony didn’t bring some happy tears to my eyes, especially as the Ilchamus children loaded up in the military vehicle to go back to Kiserian. Pokot women danced around the military vehicle in a traditional send off, with children waving and yelling bye to each other (some even yelling, “bye Julia Holladay!”).

      

     

     Pokot families dance around the students before the Ilchamus students leave for Kiserian.

      

      

     

     Pokot students waving bye to their Ilchamus friends.

      

      

     

     Hilary saying goodbyes to the Ilchamus students.

      

      

     

     Pokot parents waving goodbye to Ilchamus students heading back to Kiserian.

      

     While goodbyes may not be my strong suit, the energy and emotion from both communities poured into the peace camp and holiday peace exchange make it so poignantly clear that CPI Kenya’s approach to peace building is undeniably transformative.

     Dickens and Brian are sparks who are helping their communities understand that their shared humanity is greater than the conflict at hand. Sparks ignite flames, just as students like Dickens and Brian are an important part of the larger picture leading the way to peace.

     Posted By Julia Holladay

     Posted Jun 23rd, 2022

     1 Comment

     Iain Guest

     June 30, 2022

     This is another good, strong blog about people-to-people peace-building. You show clearly how CPIK peace camps can create friendships among kids from different tribes. (Although is that really surprising? Kids have way fewer prejudices than adults and are far more willing to trust their personal feelings!!) The question I have – and have had with other similar approaches like Seeds for Peace – is how these good feelings can be sustained once the kids return home and are re-exposed to the prejudices of their parents and communities. Can they retain the good feeling or is it one-off and fleeting? If so, it ain’t much use to the larger, long-term goal of changing society? More important still, how do these friendships among children change the views of their families and communities? Do they get a chance to make the case for peace – and would they anyway? Do they even understand the concept of peace? If not, are they being manipulated? Welcome your thoughts! Is all part of understanding CPIK’s model and getting it explained to more people.

196. Pastoralist Businesswomen as Agents for Peace

     June 16, 2022 4:55 pm Leave a Comment

     During the 2 weeks I spent in Samburu County in Northern Kenya, it became very apparent to me that woman have an extremely important role in pastoralist society. While the men are away herding livestock, the women are left to make sure everything else, including the home and family, is sorted.

     By 9:00am women are already out cleaning clothes in a stream (or any water source they can find). Afterwards, they look for firewood, walk to get water (usually a long distance while then having to carry the water back to their homes), and take care of other necessary tasks. Then it’s time to prepare lunch. Once the family is fed, they go to run their businesses and make it back in time to make and eat dinner for their family. Then, they get ready for the next day to do it all again. They are resilient and resourceful, but climate change is making their lives much harder.

     This is why CPI Kenya is launching a Women’s Entrepreneur Network (WEN).

     The network connects 5 Samburu and 5 Pokot women through 2 group businesses. Both groups have decided, after considering the markets in their areas, that they will buy and sell goats for their group businesses. The 2 groups will meet individually once a week to make sure everything is on track. Once a month, the 2 groups will gather to share business advice and learn how they can support each other.[1]

      

      

     

     The inaugural group of participants in the Women’s Entrepreneur Network. They’re holding a sign to put in their shops that says “Businesswomen for Peace.

      

     An important goal of the network isn’t just to create a successful group business, but to make sure that the women’s’ individual businesses are growing, too. So as their group businesses grow and make profit, the Samburu and Pokot groups will separately divvy up the profits so that the women can also boost their individual businesses.

     While WEN empowers businesswomen to build sustainable livelihoods, it’s also an avenue for peace. And given their wide variety of roles, businesswomen in pastoralist communities play an important part in creating peace.

     All of the participants in WEN have experienced the brunt of conflict for more than a decade. Raids between Pokot and Samburu warriors affected everyone in Longewan (Samburu) and Amaya (Pokot). They’ve seen the horrors of conflict and the dividends of prosperity that peace brings. They are intent on guarding the benefits of peace.

     One way that WEN will help contribute to peace is that it creates a network of informal communication between women in both tribes. During our interviews with women in the network, over 6 of them mentioned that the network will help increase communication about potential conflict being planned against the other village.

     Some of the women also mentioned that by being part of WEN, they’ll become more visible in their communities. Members of the WEN from Longewan and Amaya have a variety of businesses from selling petrol, owning maize mills and restaurants, selling food and home stuffs, and more. If others in Longewan and Amaya see this group of women engaging with each other and their inter-tribal customers, they can see that it’s possible to coexist peacefully.

     But the relationships don’t just stop at the women in WEN. The people in their lives—children, husbands, friends—will also be connected to inter-community engagements. The network may be steered by women, but it doesn’t stop at their relationships.

     We’ve identified the women. Set up the program. Now, CPI Kenya just needs monetary support to launch the Women’s Entrepreneur Network. You can help us launch the network on July 20^th by donating to the GlobalGiving campaign!

      

     

     Margaret serving ugali in her restaurant in Longewan.

      

      

     

     Fatuma posing in her restaurant in Longewan.

      

      

     

     Josephine helping Pokot customers at her maize mill in Longewan

     .

      

     

     Chepsait at her shop in Amaya.

      

      

     

     Natasha (CPI Kenya communications intern) and myself enjoying chai and chapo mayai at Chepsait’s restaurant.

      

     In Amaya, most women have businesses out of their homes. Customers know what each woman sells and where the live to purchase goods. This is Chepochomorko’s home and business in Amaya where she sells sugar (and other goods when there’s no drought).

     [1] I feel like it’s important here to note that at the beginning of trying to launch this program, we had a different idea of what it would look like. From Nairobi, we could try to think of what would make a good program for the participants, but until we were on the ground we didn’t know what their real needs and goals were. This was a good example of prioritizing the people in the program.

     1 Comment

     Iain Guest

     July 17, 2022

     This is good news! It’s obviously important that the two groups of women take the decisions about how to move forward but I’m wondering if regular meetings to share tips will lead to actual trade between the two networks and their members? Isn’t that what CPIK hoped to achieve, so as to create inter-dependency and so lessen the risk of conflict?

197. Conflict, Climate Change, and CPI Kenya

     June 9, 2022 2:56 pm Leave a Comment

     In my graduate development and humanitarian action classes at George Washington University, climate change is an inevitable (and important) subject we study because of its global implications. So far in my academic career, I’ve understood climate change from the “ivory tower” of classrooms. Now that I’m in Kenya[1], I’m seeing with my own eyes that the reality of climate change is already here.

     Climate Change as a Threat Multiplier in Kenya

     Within CPI Kenya’s work, climate change is a clear threat multiplier in Northern Kenyan ecosystems. When I say threat-multiplier, I mean that climate change might not be the direct cause of a risk but that it exacerbates a situation. This is important because countries like Kenya are projected to experience climate change’s consequences more intensely, but are not in an economic position compared to higher-income countries to mitigate and adapt to them.

     

     Source:  Mercy Corps, Climate-Conflict Brief (2021)

      

     For example in Northern Kenya, resources like water are becoming more scare because of changing weather patterns that didn’t exist 10+ years ago. Temperatures are increasing, droughts and heat waves are prolonged, rainfall is more variable and intense, and sea levels are rising. All of these changes set off chain reactions in an ecosystem. If tensions (be they social, cultural, or political) are already present, climate change can compound the situation.

     Cattle Raids and Climate Change

     When it comes to the pastoralist lifestyle, herding cows isn’t just a job for pastoralists. They hold a lot meaning, culturally and economically, for pastoralist communities. In Baringo County and across Northern Kenya, where cattle is king, climate impacts have contributed to increased conflict between tribes because there isn’t enough water and food in one area for their livestock to survive. To supplement their herds and/or find greener pastures, pastoralists cross boundaries to steal and recover herd animals from each other. Violent cattle raids in across Northern Kenya have become deadly, and make life more difficult for communities.

     The complex nature of conflict in Northern Kenya is why CPI Kenya is empowering children to be the change in their ecosystems. By bringing children from tribes in the midst of conflict together to have fun and become friends, they show parents, pastors, warriors and chiefs in their communities that peace is possible. CPI Kenya is helping communities attain sustainable peace in hopes that the they can also work together to adapt to and mitigate some of the issues climate change exacerbates.

     Some Observed Climate Impacts in Baringo County

     During the CPI Kenya’s peace camp in Baringo County from March 26-30 at Kiserian Primary School, we saw climate change’s consequences firsthand. When I spoke to Kiserian Primary School Headteacher Allen Kikyeni about changes in weather over the last 10 years, he said that unpredictable rainfall and late rainy seasons are affecting when people plant crops and increasing food insecurity.

     Then in 2020, Lake Baringo flooded for the first time destroying homes and displacing residents. One student, Ruth, told me the flood destroyed her school and at least 3 others—forcing her and other students to relocate to other schools in the area. This was a big deal for families because they had to figure out a new way for students to get to school. It meant children walking longer distances, taking costly transportation, or missing school all together depending on the situation.

      

     

     In 2020, the Baringo Flood reached all the way up to this small building, about ~100 meters (300 feet) from Kiserian Primary School.

      

     

     Flooded town along Lake Baringo where residents have been forced to relocate.

      

     New shoreline of Lake Baringo. Before the flood in 2020, the shoreline was 1km from where it is now.

      

     

     New shoreline of Lake Baringo. Before the flood in 2020, the shoreline was 1km from where it is now.

      

     The village of Chepkalacha, however, has different climate risks and impacts. The village has an even more arid environment compared to Kiserian even though the towns are just 40 miles from each other across Lake Baringo. Chepkalacha has always experienced drought, but in the last decade, prolonged and increased periods of drought and rainfall variability have made matters worse.

     Chepkalacha Chief Jeremiah Saban told me that his main concern about the weather revolves around people having enough water. He said that schools are even closing and people are migrating to areas where water resources are more reliable.

      

     

     Destroyed flora from Lake Baringo flood.

      

     

     Homes at Chepkalacha village.

      

      

     

     Map showing 40 mile distance from Chepkalacha to Kiserian.

      

     The implications of climate change will only continue to worsen as high-income countries continue to miss their marks on climate financing for adaptation and mitigation promises. In the meantime, CPI Kenya continues to work across Northern Kenya to create opportunities for communities to engage in peace processes and build a more peaceful Kenya.

      

     [1] Kenya’s climate is naturally dry and arid with a more temperate climate in the highlands. It has 2 rainy seasons, “long rains” from March to June and “short rains” from October to December. There’s little seasonal variability and dry spells/ bouts of drought are not uncommon, especially in Northern Kenya.

     1 Comment

     Monica Kinyua

     June 9, 2022

     This is a great read Julia….Am glad you got a chance to experience the communities and see how resilient they are despite the challenges brought about by conflict and exacerbated by climate change!

     2

     Posted Jun 9th, 2022

198. Installing Accessible Toilets in Northern Uganda – the Story Up to Now

     June 1, 2022 9:23 am Leave a Comment

     

     Our stakeholders: Over half of the primary schools in Gulu District suffer from unhygienic toilets and a lack of water

      

     This summer, The Advocacy Project will resume support for one of our most successful initiatives – the installation of accessible toilets at primary schools in Gulu District, Uganda.

     The program was suspended in 2020 as a result of the pandemic and we hope that its resumption will help to revive education in Northern Uganda after two years of brutal lock-down. This will be the fifth school to benefit from our support. After installing a WASH package in four primary schools since 2015 our Ugandan partner, the Gulu Disabled Persons Union (GDPU), can be counted on to do a fine job!

     This blog provides some background.

     

     2011 Peace Fellow Rebecca Scherpelz raised the alarm about accessible toilets

     The toilet program dates back to 2011 when Rebecca Scherpelz a Peace Fellow who was working at GDPU wrote a memorable blog – ‘The (in)accessible Toilet – when Nature Calls and Society Hangs Up’ – about the scandalous lack of public accessible toilets and the problems this created for people in wheelchairs. The blog was widely read and Rebecca herself returned to school (University of Maryland) on a mission. She launched a fundraiser (entitled “Please Give a S#*t!) and raised around $2,000 – enough to pay for an accessible toilet back in Uganda.

     The task of spending Rebecca’s small windfall fell to Patrick Ojok, the GDPU program manager, and John Steies, who succeeded Rebecca as the Peace Fellow at GDPU in 2013. They decided on the Gulu bus park in the town center which was widely frequented by people with disability and installed a splendid toilet with a porcelain bowl, sink, faucets and flushing water. John and Patrick pulled out all the stops to complete the project in time, and wanted nothing but the best for their clients. But a crowded bus park with a transient population was probably not the best location for a sophisticated toilet and it was quickly vandalized.

     It might have worked if someone had assumed responsibility for the toilet and charged fees, but the people who most needed to use the toilet were in no position to pay. Lacking stakeholders, the toilet went the way of so many development dreams that are designed from afar with the best of intentions and imposed on communities with no incentives to make them work.

     *

     

     Patrick Ojok from GDPU meets Ivan Olanya (right), victim of bullying, at the Tochi School

     At the same time, the problem identified by Rebecca itself had not gone away and some important lessons had been learned. GDPU and AP decided to explore the idea of accessible toilets in a completely different environment – schools – where the importance of hygiene is well understood by the teachers and parents.

     In the summer of 2014, I visited the Tochi Primary School (489 students) with Partick from GDPU and Kathryn Dutile, an AP Peace Fellow who was studying WASH at Manchester University.

     We were shocked at the state of the school toilets and even more shocked to learn that toilets were intricately linked to bullying and disability. It turned out that school bullies were smearing feces on the handrails of the school’s single accessible toilet to frighten students with a disability. One student in particular, Ivan Olanya, was being singled out because other students were jealous of his good grades. I described our findings in this news bulletin. It was clear that toilets were playing a large – and rather nasty – role in the life of the Tochi school and community.

     This visit opened the way to what has become one of AP’s most imaginative and important programs. With Patrick in the lead, GDPU and AP decided to raise funds to build a new toilet at Tochi that was fully accessible, and back it up with inclusivity training to educate students and staff about disability, bullying and hygiene.

     The task of coming up with the money again fell to our 2015 Peace fellow Josh Levy. Josh launched a Gofundme campaign and raised over $4,000, which was enough to cover the cost in installing the first accessible toilet at the Tochi School. He then helped Patrick to oversee the project (and became well known in the village for taking his pet monkey to the site).

     Enrolment rose at the Tochi school after the toilet was installed and AP has made a point of visiting Ivan in subsequent years. He is now in college – perhaps the best indicator of success!

     *

     

     Before the renovation: Prisca Okello, principal at the Ogul School, took a group of parents and carried back these abandoned toilets from an IDP camp to make up for the lack of toilets at her school

     By the summer of 2016 Patrick had visited more schools and realized that students with a disability were not the only victims of filthy, unhygienic toilets. So why were we only focusing on their needs? This seemed unfair and even discriminatory. Together, GDPU and AP decided that if there was to be another toilet project, it would benefit the entire school.

     The toilet project raised almost $5,000 in 2016, thanks to a generous donation from the online giving platform Givology. We sent Amy Gillespie, a Peace Fellow who had been trained as a social worker, to help GDPU install the WASH package at a second school. Unfortunately, it was too late to begin that summer and the money was rolled over to the following year.

     Work began at the Ogul School in June 2017 and drew on the Tochi experience. By now GDPU had refined its procedures and put out a call for three tenders. The selected contractor did a fine job and one reason was that his team was from the local community, as our Peace Fellow Lauren Halloran noted in one of her blogs. (The welder Abonga Collins had even studied at the school.) The new toilets were opened in August and by the end of the summer several hundred more students were benefitting from a healthy school environment.

     Lauren was succeeded as the GDPU Peace Fellow in 2018 by Chris Markomanolakis, a student at the University of Maryland who had worked in the Peace Corps and was addicted to field work. Patrick had met with the District Education Officer (DEO) and together they had agreed to refurbish the toilets at the Awach Central Primary School. This would be a major undertaking because the school had 991 students – more than twice as many as Tochi. Moreover, over a hundred had a disability. The Awach toilets were in terrible shape but Chris rolled up his sleeves (literally) and developed an ambitious plan and budget with Patrick. Chris also put out the word to his own network and submitted a proposal to Water Charity, which agreed to provide some much-needed support.

     

     After: The entire village turned out to celebrate the new accessible toilet at Tochi School (2015)

     The team decided to install several new stances (individual stalls) at Awach, one of which would be accessible, and renovate another block of stalls which were basically unusable in their current shape. Patrick and Chris also addressed the special needs of girl students. Not only did girls have to wait in line for ages, but many were having perio

     ds and needed some private space where they could change and dispose of used tampons. GDPU responded by constructing a changing room for girls only. This important feature quickly became part of GDPU’s evolving WASH model.

     The second noticeable feature of the Awach project was the involvement of the parents. This had always been central to GDPU’s vision because it gave parents a practical way to engage with the education of their children, and parents had been a big help to Lauren during the Ogul project.

     But the number of volunteer parents at Awach – well over 100 – surprised even GDPU. They spent three days digging out a large latrine pit for the new toilets, while the long-suffering contractors were also given the unpleasant task of emptying the existing latrine, which was overflowing. This had to be done by hand, in the boiling sun, and took several days. Chris spent several hot and smelly hot days at their side, recording the process.

     *

     

     After four successful schools projects, Patrick Ojok at GDPU is recognized as an authority of WASH, disability and education in Northern Uganda

     In November of 2018, I visited Gulu for AP and assessed progress at Tochi, Ogul and Awach with Patrick and Emma from GDPU. We were encouraged by what we found, starting with a surge in enrolment at all three schools.

     We also visited several schools which badly needed new toilets and decided on the Abaka Primary School, where only two stalls were in use for over 400 students. By now I was used to tramping around disgusting toilets, but the conditions at Abaka were worse than anything I had seen up to this point. Most students walked home to relieve themselves or went into the jungle where they risked attack from wild animals. They were also using a makeshift toilet in the fields where the floor was thick with maggots and liable to cave in at any moment. I documented what we saw in this short video and caught Patrick saying that students were afraid of falling through the toilet floor and drowning. (It was, said Patrick, not an unreasonable fear).

     Water was another disaster. The school’s borehole, which was the only source of water outside the rainy season, was broken. This meant no handwashing – and a further threat to the health of the students. Patrick and I realized that water would have to be added to the GDPU’s checklist for any future toilet projects. We had little hesitation in designating Abaka as the next project school and Patrick saw it through to a successful conclusion in August 2019, with advice from Peace Fellow Spencer Caldwell.

     *

     

     Evelyn Acer, principal at the Lapuda School, signed up for GDPU toilets in 2020, before the pandemic struck

     By the end of 2019 GDPU could be well pleased. Over 3,000 Ugandan High School students were enjoying a hygienic education in the 4 primary schools, and GDPU’s community-based WASH model was well known in Gulu District. (The model is described in detail on the AP site.) Patrick was recognized as a leading authority on education, disability and WASH in northern Uganda and the GDPU model had the stamp of approval from the DEO Cesar Akena. Given that there were 55 primary schools in the district and well over half needed new toilets, there was reason to hope the government would use GDPU’s community approach in funding future WASH projects.

     GDPU’s toilets cost much less than WASH projects funded by the district government or large international NGOs, but they were still expensive. In 2018 we received a welcome offer from the Global Missions Committee at the Prince of Peace Lutheran Church in Dublin Ohio, to donate $6,000 from the proceeds of the church’s annual rummage sale. We had Rebecca, our Peace Fellow who had launched the toilet project back in 2011, to thank for making the introduction. Rebecca was an active member of the church and her father Ken led the Committee. The committee pledge was open-ended and this has allowed us to make a long-term commitment to GDPU. We also received a generous grant from the North Kingston Rotary club in Rhode Island.

     In addition, as noted above, several Peace Fellows have launched their own fundraisers, and Chris made a major contribution by securing a grant from Water Charity. We also launched several appeals on GlobalGiving which pulled in over $5,000. All in all, AP raised over $35,000 for the four school WASH projects between 2015 and 2020.

     It all seemed to be moving in the right direction when I made another visit to Gulu late in 2019 to identify the next school. At the recommendation of the District Education Officer, we made our way to Lapuda, where we found the same dismal story of blocked toilets, collapsing walls, anxious teachers and frustrated students as shown in this video.

     But Evelyn Acer, the head teacher at Lapuda, was impressive and would clearly make a wonderful partner for GDPU. Patrick and Evelyn agreed to start work in the summer of 2020 and we headed back to Gulu town in high spirits. Everything seemed set fair for another productive summer.

     And then came COVID-19.

     *

     The pandemic was not the first hammer blow to fall on the education system in northern Uganda. Twenty years earlier, the brutal Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) had declared war on civilians throughout the North and provoked a savage response from the Ugandan authorities. Schools were closed throughout the region and civilians forced to move into massive displacement camps. The remnants of this crisis are still clearly visible throughout Gulu. When we visited the Ogul School in 2017, the head teacher told us that she had travelled to an abandoned IDP camp with parents and carried several portable toilets back to her school. (Photo).

     COVID-19 added to the strain by closing down education for more than two years and put immense pressure on families that were already struggling to support their local schools.

     

     Freeman, left, developed his own brand of liquid soap named Clean Wash. His start-up was funded b y AP 2020-2021 and will be folded into the WASH schools program

     Unfortunately, we could do nothing to help the schools, but we did support two innovative start-ups by GDPU stake-holders that addressed the crisis in personal hygiene and brought in money.

     The first start-up was launched by Mama Cave, a inspiring tailor with a disability. Mama Cave created her own brand of face-masks (“Mama Masks”) and sold several hundred masks in 2020 and 2021. The second entrepreneur, Freeman, collected a group of friends with limited physical mobility and produced a liquid soap, which they branded “Clean Wash.” Freeman got off to a quick start and sold over 500 liters by the end of 2020.

     But by the end of 2021, both start-ups were facing severe competition and a saturated market. As a result, AP and GDPU decided to wrap both start-ups into the WASH program in 2022, assuming that work could begin at a new school. We asked Freeman’s team to produce soap for whatever school was chosen and made the same offer to Mama Cave, because face-masks were still required in Ugandan schools. Mama Cave proposed to produce masks for the designated school in the school colors and carrying the student’s name.

     Meanwhile, back in the US, we put out the word for a graduate student to pick up where previous Fellows had left off in 2019 and work alongside Patrick and Emma to install the fifth set of toilets. We were fortunate to receive an application from Kyle Aloof, who had taught in Sierra Leone before enrolling at Texas A&M university. Back in the US, Peace Fellow Aimee Benitez at UCLA was assigned to back up Kyle.

     Kyle and Aimee will write blogs as a team and we look forward to reading about the next stage of GDPU’s bold experiment to revolutionize water, hygiene and sanitation at schools in Gulu District.

      

      

199. “We’ll Go Back and Tell Our Families They’re Just Like Us!”

     May 31, 2022 2:35 pm 2 Comments

     Children Peace Initiative Kenya (CPI Kenya) held their twentieth peace camp the weekend of May 26-30! Twenty peace camps to give children from two warring tribes the opportunity see that it’s possible to have fun together, and even become friends. Twenty peace camps to try and end conflict over livestock and resource scarcity between tribes in counties across Northern Kenya. Twenty peace camps to help create a more peaceful Kenya.

     Peace camps are a lot like summer camp—kids sing songs, play games, and spend the night giggling and talking. On their twentieth peace camp, CPI Kenya founders Hilary and Monica worked with children from Ilchamus and Pokot tribes right on the shore of Lake Baringo in Northern Kenya.

      

     

     Hilary and Monica came alive the moment we arrived at Kiserian Primary School (where this peace camp took place). You can tell that their passion is working with kids to become catalysts for change—it showed in everything they did. From organizing games and song to teaching about the importance of peace between Pokot and Ilchamus communities in Kiserian, Noosukuro, Lomuge, and Chepkalacha villages, Hilary and Monica spent every ounce of their energy everyday interacting with the kids and helping them understand each others’ commonalities.

     And their approach is revolutionary! Children are oftentimes left out of important conversations and issues, despite being affected by the outcomes. But Monica and Hilary see children as important stakeholders in their communities and agents for change. And after 4 days of games, meals, singing, and sleepovers, four children had the chance to share what they learned at the closing ceremony. Gideon, a boy from Lomuge, a Pokot village, stood up confidently and determined. He addressed the 100+ students, village chiefs, CPI Kenya staff, and teachers to share that:

     “Before the peace camp, we were scared. People were telling us Ilchamus will throw us in the lake or in the cactus. But we were received so well and welcomed. We’ve made friends and have stayed here at the camp together peacefully. When we go back, we’ll tell our families they (Ilchamus) are just like us. We’ll tell them to stop stealing cows.”

      

     

     Gideon speaking at the closing ceremony.

      

     Peace camps are hard work, and there is so much that goes on to make everything happen. Everyone puts in their all for the kids because the implications are life-saving. Below are some photos from CPI Kenya’s twentieth peace camp in Kiserian—I hope they convey the few thousand words it would take to rightfully describe how all Monica and Hilary are helping create peace in Northern Kenya.

      

     

     Ilchamus and Pokot children meeting each other for the first time. They were excited to mingle and see what children from the other tribe were like.

      

     

     Peace camp opening ceremony at Kiserian Primary School. Hilary is explaining to the kids that while they’ll be having a lot of fun and playing games, this weekend is about getting to know other children.

      

     

     Hilary talking to the children about the important of peace, and explaining that change can start with them.

      

     

     Monica leading the children in songs. In this one, they’re learning how to say “we are very happy” in each others’ tribal language.

      

     

     Warming up in the morning with some fun group movement.

      

     

     Balloon stomper game—each child ties a balloon to their ankle and tries to be the last person in the rectangle with their balloon not popped.

      

      

     

     A team game where the person at the front has to race to grab a ball, run back to their line, and send it to the back through everyone’s legs.

      

      

     

     A teamwork game where the kids are blindfolded and must create a shape with the string.

      

      

     

     Two girls from Ilchamus (right) and Pokot (left) walking together hand in hand.

      

      

     

     A girl from Kiserian (Ilchamus, right) and Lomgue (Pokot, left) trying to feed each other orange drink blindfolded.

      

      

     

     Boy from Kiserian (Ilchamus, left) leading another from and Chepkalacha (Pokot, right) around the obstacle course.

      

      

     

     The last activity, the kids were put into groups and given newspaper to create outfits for one boy and girl in their group (one had to be Pokot, the other Ilchamus).

      

      

     

     A boy poses with his group as they finish up his newspaper suit for the last activity.

      

      

     

     Ilchamus girls saying bye to their Pokot friends! Military vehicle was the only way to transport the children from Chepkalacha to Kiserian because of conflict.

      

      

     

     Pokot Chief from Chepkalacha (right) and Ilchamus Chief from Kiserian (left) shaking hands at the peace camp’s closing ceremony.

      

     1 Comment

     Iain Guest

     June 30, 2022

     Great blog, Julia! Really gets across CPIK’s amazing vision for peace and explains how the peace camps help to build relationships between kids – and hence their tribes. Love the photos!

200. River Gypsy Artists Tell their COVID stories

     May 30, 2022 8:47 am Leave a Comment

     Mayadip is a small island surrounded by one of the biggest rivers in Bangladesh, the Meghna River. Mayadip is situated in the Sonargaon jurisdiction under the Narayanganj district in Bangladesh. Most of the men on this island are fishermen, who fish in the Meghna River. 

     Around 1,200 people live at Mayadip and almost half of the population are women. Most of the women work at home, mainly doing domestic labor, like cooking food and raising their children. Some women also work in the fields cultivating crops, helping their husbands and sons. Some of the women also work at in the garments industry on the mainland, Sonargaon.  

     The inhabitants of Mayadip are underprivileged people. There is only one school on the island that was established by Subornogram Foundation called “Mayadip Jeleshishu Pathshala” (Mayadip School for the Fisherfolk Community Children). 

     COVID-19 has affected women’s lives on Mayadip very badly. Since the coronavirus (COVID-19) outbreaks in Bangladesh began in March 2020, the people of Mayadip have suffered a lot. The fishermen could not sell their fish at the marketplace at levels possible before because many people have stopped coming to the market. Besides that, the economic situation of the all classes got affected because of the COVID 19 situation, so, the fishermen’s already low income also decreased. 

     Women of Mayadip bear the brunt of increased care work and as a result, many have taken an extra burden during the pandemic. Because of the COVID-19 and the lockdowns, there is a lack of access to sexual and reproductive health rights, increased violence, and decreased access to support services. Some women, mainly those who work in the garment industry, are working on every frontline, including at home. With lockdowns meaning many are at home more often, women are now looking after three demographics; children, who do not have access to childcare or schools; parents and elderly relatives, who do not have access to aged care or their normal services; as well as keeping themselves, partners, extended family and friends safe.

     Women and girls also face the most violence in the family, and the pandemic has made this worse. As their husbands are staying home more of the time since their ability to work is reduced, they torture their wives. As a result, domestic violence has also increased during the COVID 19 pandemic on Mayadip.  Child marriage among girls also increased during the pandemic. Schools were closed down for almost two years and many childrens’ education was effected, as well as their mental states.

     During the pandemic, the Advocacy Project (AP) is doing a great job for the inhabitants of the Mayadip island. With the support of AP, Subornogram Foundation is running three projects in the Mayadip, providing incredible support for many people on the island. These projects are The Feeding Kitchen project, Embroidery squares project, and COVID Vaccination Project. Each of these projects has help to relieve some of the stress of the COVID-19 pandemic.

201. River Gypsy Artists Describe the Impact of COVID-19 on Women Through Stitching!

     May 28, 2022 11:51 am Leave a Comment

     Mayadip is a small island surrounded by one of the biggest rivers in Bangladesh, the Meghna River. Mayadip is situated in the Sonargaon jurisdiction under the Narayanganj district in Bangladesh. Most of the men on this island are fishermen, who fish in the Meghna River. 

     Around 1,200 people live at Mayadip and almost half of the population are women. Most of the women work at home, mainly doing domestic labor, like cooking food and raising their children. Some women also work in the fields cultivating crops, helping their husbands and sons. Some of the women also work at in the garments industry on the mainland, Sonargaon.  

     The inhabitants of Mayadip are underprivileged people. There is only one school on the island that was established by Subornogram Foundation called “Mayadip Jeleshishu Pathshala” (Mayadip School for the Fisherfolk Community Children). 

     COVID-19 has affected women’s lives on Mayadip very badly. Since the coronavirus (COVID-19) outbreaks in Bangladesh began in March 2020, the people of Mayadip have suffered a lot. The fishermen could not sell their fish at the marketplace at levels possible before because many people have stopped coming to the market. Besides that, the economic situation of the all classes got affected because of the COVID 19 situation, so, the fishermen’s already low income also decreased. 

     Women of Mayadip bear the brunt of increased care work and as a result, many have taken an extra burden during the pandemic. Because of the COVID-19 and the lockdowns, there is a lack of access to sexual and reproductive health rights, increased violence, and decreased access to support services. Some women, mainly those who work in the garment industry, are working on every frontline, including at home. With lockdowns meaning many are at home more often, women are now looking after three demographics; children, who do not have access to childcare or schools; parents and elderly relatives, who do not have access to aged care or their normal services; as well as keeping themselves, partners, extended family and friends safe.

     Women and girls also face the most violence in the family, and the pandemic has made this worse. As their husbands are staying home more of the time since their ability to work is reduced, they torture their wives. As a result, domestic violence has also increased during the COVID 19 pandemic on Mayadip.  Child marriage among girls also increased during the pandemic. Schools were closed down for almost two years and many childrens’ education was effected, as well as their mental states.

     During the pandemic, the Advocacy Project (AP) is doing a great job for the inhabitants of the Mayadip island. With the support of AP, Subornogram Foundation is running three projects in the Mayadip, providing incredible support for many people on the island. These projects are The Feeding Kitchen project, Embroidery squares project, and COVID Vaccination Project. Each of these projects has help to relieve some of the stress of the COVID-19 pandemic.

202. The Mzungu in Kagumo

     May 26, 2022 10:44 am Leave a Comment

     Before Friday, Kenya was Nairobi. More specifically, it was Ongata Rongai, the neighborhood where the Children’s Peace Initiative Kenya’s (CPI Kenya) office is, and where I’m staying in Nairobi. On Friday, that all changed when Monica, CPI Kenya co-founder, took the mzungu[1] on a two hour road trip to her hometown, Kagumo, in the White Highlands of Central Kenya.

     The highway turned to one way roads, which turned into narrow, red clay roads. Lush, vibrant vegetation grew in every direction—homesteads surrounded by tea and coffee farms. We picked up some friends along the way, including Monica’s 14 year-old son Elias and her 20 year-old daughter Chebet. Monica adopted Elias after a peace camp when Elias was 4 years old, and has been part of the close-knit family ever since. Chebet lives around Monica’s family’s homestead and is now in her second year of university—Monica began taking care of her after some family troubles.

      

      

     

     Elias and I on a tea farm.

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

     

     Chebet and I happy to see each other for the drive back to Nairobi.

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

     The weekend was filled with so much kindness, warmth, and welcoming that I could hardly remember the loneliness I felt in Nairobi during the night. (This blog is a space for honesty, so I won’t lie to you that a new place with no familiar places can be jarring—and lonely!)

     Our first stop was Ben’s house, Monica’s cousin. After we picked up his son, Fabi, from school, we helped Ben with some paperwork. His family welcomed me into their home with hot tea and afternoon snack—which was the beginning of the overwhelming sense of thankfulness and gratitude for Kenyan hospitality I felt the entire weekend.[2] Their family even gifted us a chicken to eat over the weekend (see below from my apprehensive photo with the old lady hen we made into a lovely meal later in the weekend)!

      

      

     

     Monica’s aunt’s family and Julia with the gifted chicken.

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

     

     Julia with the dinner chicken.

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

     From Ben’s house, we picked Elias up from school. We met the Deputy Principal who insisted that Monica and the mzungu address the daily assembly. At first, I thought it was a joke… but before I knew it, teachers were herding children to the courtyard and kids were rushing downstairs. Monica and I jumped center stage with the Deputy Principal where he introduced us and the children got to ask the mzungu lots of questions.

      

      

     

     Assembly at Elias’ boarding school.

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

     After the impromptu performance at Elias’ school, we headed into the small main part of town where we had to pick up a few things. Each stop we made, people in shops and on the street introduced themselves to me, excited to meet the mzungu in town. This happened everywhere we went—if people could see the white, freckled, blue-eyed mzungu in the car they wanted to stop and chat (of course, I was always happy to meet new people!) By the end of the weekend, I met so many people that my head was spinning in the best way.

      

      

     

     Market in Kagumo.

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

     Monica’s family’s home is surrounded by tea farms. Tea is a big cash crop in the region, and most people spend their days rotating from farm to farm, picking tea and coffee. Once the tea is picked, it’s brought to a buying center where farmers and farmworkers are paid for their labor. From there, it’s brought to a factory where the tea is processed and then the good product is exported outside of the country with the lower-quality product staying in Kenya.

      

      

     

     Rolling hills of tea farms outside the driveway of Monica’s family’s home.

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

     

     Chebet explaining that the tea is harvested like this, with the 2 leaves and a bud. From there’s it’s taken to a processing center and exported.

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

     

     Tea buying center where harvesters and farmers come to sell their tea. From here the tea is processed at a factory and then exported.

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

     The weekend in Monica’s hometown filled my spirit with so much joy for weeks to come. There aren’t words to express the hospitality I felt from everyone I met. The cool mountain weather and the never-ending welcome in Kagumo made me feel like I had a home in Kenya.

      

      

     

     Monica’s family home.

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

     

     Monica teaching me how to make chapati, a tasty Kenyan flat bread.

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

     [1] Mzungu is Swahili for “wanderer,” and is a nickname given to white/foreign visitors to Kenya.

     [2] The Southern U.S. likes to pride itself on hospitality, but I have never experienced such a welcome anywhere in my life.

     2 Comments

     Kyle Aloof

     May 29, 2022

     Hey Julia,
     So happy to hear you’re having a blast! I am seeing that there are many similarities in our experiences thus far; from the overwhelming hospitality, to being called Mzungu, enjoying delicious chapati, and giving an impromptu introduction at a school. I hope your time in Kenya continues to surprise you in all the best ways.

     Iain Guest

     May 30, 2022

     This was obviously a wonderful weekend, and we are grateful for this intimate portrait of Monica’s family and your interactions with Elias, Chebet and the local school. It shows that Monica’s heart is with her family, and this reflected in CPIK’s own commitment to children. Ditto for you. It’s not everyone who can leave her family at home in the US and head off to Africa. No wonder you were both treated like celebrities in Kagumo! Tea will never taste the same again!!

203. The Practice of Being a Student

     May 19, 2022 12:43 pm 1 Comment

     At this moment, I’m looking out the window at the Franciscan Family Center in Nairobi, Kenya with about 4 hours of sleep and 8 hours in Kenya. I made it! This marks my first week with the Children’s Peace Initiative Kenya (CPI Kenya). The pace of life within the walls of the convent is a little slower than what I witnessed on the car ride out, but it’s given me some space to reflect…..

     

     View from my room at the Franciscan Family Center

     Growing up in rural Alabama, I learned how to take it easy and go with the flow. From driving four wheelers at 10 years old around backwoods to easy Sunday afternoon lunches with family and friends… Alabama has a way of letting you know that you can’t control the universe so might as well take it easy—let your feet feel the grass beneath you and have a SunDrop on the trampoline in the backyard.

     Living my early twenties in Washington D.C., I learned how to organize myself and go for it, whatever it was… Press calls? Immigration advocacy? Protests? Graduate school? Therapy? D.C. has taught me how to be creative, self-sufficient, and ultimately about what I’m interested in doing as a career. D.C. has also helped me realize how much I yearn for those sunny Alabama Sunday afternoons. That younger me saw the world with much less nuance. In my 27th year, I know that the world doesn’t exist in a binary or a vacuum.

     This sentiment has shown up a lot for me in anticipation of this summer and in the first few days of my arrival. I’ve been an excited, nervous, sad, and sentimental mess the last few weeks of prepping for my summer with CPI Kenya. But, it’s helped me remember that all of these emotions can be true at once.

     Realizing there can be multiple truths in a situation can be overwhelming and scary. Being outside your comfort zone, whether it’s mentally or physically, isn’t easy. I tend to forget this every time I go abroad and miss my home, my people, my pets. That’s why I like thinking about travel as a practice of being a student wherever you are. That’s some of what I hope to carry with me this summer. I hope to be able to remind myself to take a deep breath in and then keep taking in new ideas, culture, language and find new ways to think about the planet we inhabit.

     I’ve already been able to practice this in just my first week. My welcome in Kenya has been unparalleled to any of my prior travel experiences. Monica, one of CPI Kenya’s co-founders, the staff at CPI Kenya, and the sisters at the Franciscan Family Center have been so incredibly kind. On my first day, Monica helped me get my Kenyan SIM card, grabbed lunch with me, and drove me to see the office ahead of my first day. The same kind of hospitality can be said for the sisters at the Franciscan Family Center who always made a point of asking how I was and making me feel so welcomed at their home.

     

     Monica and I run some errands

     At the same time, I’ve come to be extremely grateful for my routine in D.C. I arrived at the Franciscan Family Center at 1:00 am after a 24 hour travel day, and the jet lag has since taken me on a ride. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t miss my husband, our cats, or the routine of our daily life. I cry, attempt to get some semblance of a sleep routine, and try to connect with people around me. But it reminded me that in this practice, there are ups and there are also downs. And they can be happening at the same time.

     At the end of the day it’s a practice of balancing those different parts of me: the Alabama girl that can go with the flow and enjoy the grass beneath her feet, and the young professional who does what it takes to get things done. This summer is going to be an adventure, and I’m excited to see what lies ahead. I imagine I’ll have plenty more opportunities to practice being a student during my 10 weeks working with CPI Kenya!

     3 Comments

     Jess Pachler

     May 23, 2022

     So excited for you and to hear more about your trip. Safari njema!

     Iain Guest

     May 30, 2022

     What a nice, thoughtful, well-written first blog! This is a great reminder that Peace Fellows face quite a wrenching change a they hop from one culture to the next. But if – as you write – you go in as a student, willing to learn, curiosity will conquer all! You write so well, Julia, that I for one am looking forward to lots more great blogs over the summer! On to the next adventure!

     BOBBI FITZSIMMONS

     June 12, 2022

     I really appreciate your “looking forward, and looking back” perspective. I’m sure that as the jet lag subsides you’ll go forward with great energy and will have much to tell us about this great adventure. p.s. I loved the mention of Sundrop. Haven’t had one in years (rural NC for me).

204. The New Gilded Age

     May 13, 2022 2:15 pm Leave a Comment

     Fashion’s most anticipated weekend of the year occurred last weekend: the Annual Met Gala. What started as a fundraiser for the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum in New York has turned into the biggest event for designers, celebrities and fashion-minded individuals. What separates the Met Gala from other events is the use of a theme to dictate the dress code of the evening. Previous themes have been Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination and Camp: Notes on Fashion.

     This years theme, in America: An Anthology of Fashion was intended to be focus on the Gilded Age in American fashion and thus this year’s earned the nickname “Gilded Glamour”. Gilded Age fashion, from 1870 to 1900, is defined by extravagant silhouettes and fabrics, lavish hats, and clothing that reflected new found prosperity. However, when most people think of the Gilded Age, they don’t think of the fashion, they think of the massive political and socio-economic changes that took place at the time.

     

     Politcal cartoon from 1888.

     The phrase “Gilded Age” was coined by Mark Twain and refers to the idea that the problems of the era were covered in a thin layer of gold by the wealthy and elite of the time. The rich kept getting richer while the poor class, comprised mainly of recent immigrants and people of color, Thus, there is nothing more in touch with this concept than hosting a gala for the ultra wealthy (tickets to the gala cost $35,000 each) while millions of Americans are still dealing with the impacts of inflation, the COVID-19 pandemic, and general political and social trends that have been observed in the past few years.

     While we all can and certainly should enjoy the fashion of the night, it is important to not ignore the greater concept of what the event signifies. Each year, debates ensue regarding how “in theme” each guest’s costume was, one could argue that any attendee at this event was in theme regardless of their outfit, simply because of the striking comparisons of the wealth and prestige of these individuals compared to say, the robber barons of the Gilded Age. While the celebrities get to end their night at lavish parties without any real thought to what the Gilded Age really means, the rest of us go to bed, only to wake up early and continue living out the New Gilded Age.

205. US Disdain for the International Criminal Court Weakens the Prosecution of War Crimes in Ukraine

     April 10, 2022 11:58 am Leave a Comment

     Washington DC, April 10: On July 17 1998, I watched as the Clinton Administration made a final, frantic effort to weaken the International Criminal Court (ICC) before it was put to a vote at a major conference in Rome. The Advocacy Project (AP) was covering the conference for an international coalition of NGOs and I remember the uproar when the US finally voted against the ICC statute in the strange company of China, Iraq, Israel, Libya, Qatar, and Yemen. Our reports then make ironic reading today at a time when the ICC holds the key to a credible international investigation of war crimes in Ukraine. Twenty-four years on, the US remains deeply suspicious. US Secretary of State Antony Blinken made no reference to the Court while laying out a 7-point response to Russian crimes during a recent trip to Brussels. Instead, he expressed support for Ukrainian investigations. No disrespect to Ukraine, but this makes no sense at a time when the Biden Administration is seeking a coordinated international response to Russian atrocities. * The ICC could have been designed with Ukraine in mind. It was modeled on the two international tribunals that were established in the 1990s (with US support) to prosecute crimes in Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia. This background will help in exposing Russian atrocities that are beginning to resemble the behavior of Bosnian Serbs between 1992 and 1995 (photo below). Added to which, the government of Ukraine has given the ICC authority to investigate, going back to the first Russian incursions in 2013. Ironically, the very features of the ICC that anger the US are those that also allow the Court to act creatively in Ukraine and other complex conflicts. This begins with an independent prosecutor who can take the initiative (known as “proprio motu”) in launching a preliminary investigation even if the government in question has not joined the ICC treaty. The US delegation opposed this provision at Rome partly because it raised the specter of an international Ken Starr roaming around the world seeking to ensnare Americans. The same concern continues to agitate American conservatives. In September 2018, the US National Security Advisor John Bolton lashed out at the Court in a speech to the Federalist Society, claiming that the ICC’s supporters were intent on targeting not just individual US service members but “America’s senior political leadership.” After the ICC prosecutor Fatou Bensouda launched a wide-ranging investigation into the conflict in Afghanistan, President Trump froze her US-based assets – the same treatment now given to President Putin. * Most experts agree that there is zero chance of a mischievous prosecution by the ICC because three judges must give their approval for a full investigation. In addition, Karim Khan, the current prosecutor, is a seasoned British barrister with little interest in provoking the US. Khan does not need permission from ICC judges to investigate in Ukraine because 41 governments have referred the case to the ICC. But his independence also gives him flexibility to work creatively in other complex humanitarian crises that are of keen interest to the US. He is currently investigating 17 cases. These include two that alarm the US – Israel/Palestine and Afghanistan. But most of the others align with US interests, such as Georgia, Myanmar, Libya, Mali and Venezuela. The Court’s mandate allows it to investigate four core crimes – aggression, war crimes, crimes against humanity and genocide – and all are relevant to Ukraine. War crimes have clearly been committed but it is far from clear that the Russians are pursuing genocide, as the Ukrainian government and President Biden maintain. The use (and non-use) of this term has embarrassed the US in past conflicts, notable Rwanda and Sudan. The ICC will provide clarity in Ukraine. The adoption of aggression by the ICC also looks prescient. The US opposed the inclusion of aggression in the ICC statute in Rome out of concern that it would usurp the role of the UN Security Council as the ultimate arbiter of war and peace. The discussion was postponed at Rome and taken up at subsequent ICC meetings which agreed to include aggression for governments that accept its jurisdiction. Forty-three governments have signed on and they include six – Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Georgia, Poland and Finland – that share frontiers with Russia and could be victims of future Russian aggression. Overall, however, the relationship between the ICC and Council remains largely untested. The Council can refer cases to the Court when none of its permanent five members object, as it has done with Libya and Sudan. But it responded to the horrors in Bosnia and Rwanda by retaining control and establishing two tribunals. These were “ad hoc” precisely because they could be terminated by the Council at any time. The conflict in Ukraine will hopefully force this uneasy partnership into the open as part of a broader rethink about the Council’s role in ensuring international peace and security. Chapter 7 of the Charter even gives the Council power to use force in order to preserve peace, but Russia’s behavior in Ukraine exposes the cynicism and absurdity of this formula. The fact that a permanent member of the Council is allowing its troops to systematically kill civilians in pursuit of an illegal war is terrifying. Yet there is no chance that the Council will authorize a tribunal on Ukraine because such a decision would be swiftly vetoed by Russia. The case for an independent ICC that can serve as a counterbalance to the Council is overwhelming. * We can be grateful that the US campaign has not derailed the ICC, but it has delayed the Court’s coming of age and turned several US objections into self-fulfilling prophesies. The Court has been ratified by 123 governments, but the number should be higher. The Court has indicted 46 individuals, including current and former heads of state, but all have been from Africa. This smacks of a double standard and has provoked an understandable backlash from governments in the South that were among the ICC’s staunchest champions at Rome and should be its natural allies in any Russian inquiry. Most African governments abstained in the recent vote to suspend Russia from the UN Human Rights Council and may not be inclined to back more forceful action. This might change if the US were to endorse a role for the ICC. Can we expect a shift in US policy? Judging from Blinken’s announcements, not any time soon. With midterm elections approaching the best that can probably be hoped for is a return to the Obama years when the US suspended hostilities and even offered the occasional act of cooperation. One example occurred in March 2013 when the US handed over a notorious Congolese warlord, Bosco Ntaganda, to the ICC. Ntaganda had turned himself in to the US embassy in Rwanda. President Biden could start by sharing information with the ICC through NATO, as in 1995 when American satellite imagery helped to identify mass graves around the Bosnian town of Srebrenica. The US could also donate to the Trust Fund for Victims which provides reparations under the umbrella of the ICC but also accepts private gifts. Presumably it would also welcome funds from governments that have not joined the ICC treaty. A US contribution would be bold and might not provoke howls of protest from Biden’s critics. Certainly, President Biden must come up with something other than weapons and sanctions to combat Russian atrocities. Commonsense suggests that this should include the ICC. The Court has been accepted by two thirds of the world’s governments, including all but two members of NATO (the US and Turkey). Spurning such an obvious ally seems like a self-inflicted wound and will make it harder for the US to claim the moral high ground during the difficult months that lie ahead.   Bosnia 1992: Bosnian Serbs launch a genocide against Muslims.   Ukraine April 2022: Victims of Russian atrocities

      

206. Introduction to Mayadip

     September 9, 2021 9:47 am Leave a Comment

     Mayadip

     The shadowy game of life and death
     Pulls me very close;
     When the dawn light childhood of the day
     Darkness wraps its solitary wings
     The illusion is cut down

     Red scratch of fire in sleepless eyes
     On the shores of this rushing Meghna river

     Maya of transformation, half-truth life!

     Walk along the middle of the two sighs
     With a narrow path between dreams and nightmares
     House of golden clouds, the world of water
     And the children wake up in the morning one by one.                       

     (Mayadip/ Shahed Kayes; September 2006)

     How I came to know about this island? 

     I visited this island for the first time in September 2006. I went to the neighboring island named Nunertek with my friends to attend a program. After the event, I just started walking around and came to the end of that island. Then I saw another small island and crossed the river. It was really very beautiful and rich with natural beauty! I was surprised at the first sight! It was an awesome island surrounded by the Meghna river! 

     I came to learn that there was no name for the island. The next week I enquired at our Assistant Commissioner (AC) Land office, a Land related Govt. office in the Mainland Sonargaon. They confirmed to me that the island was not recorded. 

     The day I was visiting the island, I talked with the Islanders. There was no electricity, no schools, no hospitals. The islanders are full-time fishermen and part-time farmers. They fish in the Meghna river. Almost all of them are illiterate, they can neither read nor write. People are very poor. They just live hands to mouth. They do not have their own Boats and nets for fishing in the river. They work as day laborers, and work for other rich fishermen from the neighboring island ‘Nunertek’. At the end of the day, they just earn less than 2 dollars a day. 

     When I came back to Mainland Sonargaon in the evening the same day, I could not stop thinking about the beauty of the island and the sufferings of the people there. At night I wrote a poem based on my experience and feelings for the new island. I named the poem “Mayadip”. The meaning of the title of the poem is the land of affection. This poem was published in a national newspaper’s weekly literary journal in October 2006. 

     At the next meeting of our organization Subornogram Foundation, I discussed the whole thing with my team and I proposed whether we can start a school on the island. Everybody was excited and we decided to establish a school on the island. The next year we arranged a meeting with the islanders and told them about establishing a school. The islanders supported us warm-heartedly. 

     We started school in January 2007 on the island. I suggested a name for the school. “Mayadip Jeleshishu Pathshala.” (Mayadip School for the Fisherfolk children community) after the name of my poem ‘Mayadip’. Everybody liked the name and the school was established. The islanders helped us build the school. They worked physically to build the school and we used the local materials to build this school. 

     A school was born from a poem, the rest is history. After the school was started, I started calling the name of the Island “Mayadip”, then the students of our school also started calling the island ‘Mayadip’. Slowly the islanders also accepted this name.  At that time I used to visit the island 4 days a week, and lived a few days at Mayadip to become more friendly with the islanders. 

     After 2 years one of my journalist and writer friends named Saymon Zakaria visited my home at Sonargaon in 2009, and I took him to Mayadip. He was very excited about the island after hearing things from me, then he decided to interview the islanders and write a feature on Mayadip. 

     The feature was published in the most popular Bengali national newspaper in Bangladesh named, “Prothom Alo”. Prothom Alo is the most widely read newspaper in my country. The title of the writing was “Mayadip-er Pathshala” (The School of Mayadip). It was published on 8 August 2009 in the supplementary journal of the newspaper named “Chhutir Dine”. It was the cover story of that issue, with 5 pages writing. After the feature was published Mayadip became very popular among the people in Sonargaon and outside of Sonargaon. and many people started visiting Mayadip. Not only the tourists, but some Govt. people also started coming to the Island. 

     An island is born from a poem. Then a non-privileged children’s school was born after the island’s name, popularized by the media. Then, after a couple of years, a movement started called “Save Mayadip Movement” in 2010 against the illegal sand miners involved with the real estate company to save 1200 peoples’ lives, livelihood, and environment. 

     To be continued…

207. Texas: Reproductive Rights in Crisis

     September 2, 2021 10:16 pm Leave a Comment

     Background

     As of yesterday, Texas passed a law which bans abortions after six weeks of pregnancy. The only exception under the law is if there is a dire medical emergency, leaving the vast majority of Texan women without reproductive rights. The law also allows private citizens to pursue lawsuits against abortion providers, yielding up to $10,000. Given the emotion associated with conversations on abortion this blog will focus on the facts.

      

     Roe v. Wade

     The U.S. Supreme Court has blocked “heartbeat bills” in the past because of their unconstitutionality. With Roe v. Wade in mind, the courts have determined that a state cannot implement abortion bans before viability, which ranges between 24 and 28 weeks of pregnancy. The tendency for anti-abortion leaders to introduce bans at 6 weeks stems from the belief of heartbeat detection at this point in the pregnancy. This is flawed from a biological perspective.

      

     Heartbeat Bills

     According to Jennifer Gunter, OB/GYN, what is typically described as a heartbeat by the anti-abortion movement can more accurately be classified as “fetal pole cardiac activity”. Roughly 6 weeks into the pregnancy, the embryo’s yolk-sac thickens at one end, known as the fetal pole. The thickening is 4mm wide and can produce a pulsing motion detected in an ultrasound, characterized as early cardiac activity. The use of “heartbeat” as a term to describe a 4mm embryo thickening, is an emotional ploy seeking to implement restrictive legislation.

      

     

     A six week old fetus is the size of a sweet pea.

      

     A Complete Ban in Practice

     The absurdity of banning abortion services at six weeks is also rooted in the way pregnancy is detected in women. According to the American Pregnancy Association, most women discover they are pregnant at 4-7 weeks. This seems obvious, as that is approximately the time it takes to realize a menstrual cycle has been skipped. If women are unable to detect pregnancy until 4-7 weeks, the ban essentially negates any abortion from happening. This is a clear violation of Roe v. Wade.

      

     No Exceptions for Rape and Incest

     Texas’s abortion bill does not allow exceptions for sexual assault and incest. According to a Texas Statewide Sexual Assault Prevalence Study (2015), 6.3 million Texans have experienced some form of sexual assault in their lifetime, 4.2 million being women. This same report concluded that up to 10% of all sexual assaults resulted in pregnancy. Under the new abortion law in Texas, none of these women would have access to abortion despite being the victims of crime.

      

     Danger of Abortion Bans

     It should be acknowledged that banning legal abortions does not stop them. Prior to Roe v. Wade, illegal abortions made up 1/6th of pregnancy-related deaths in the U.S. This absence of care disproportionately exposed low income women to unsafe procedures. An effective policy approach that reduces abortion while limiting danger to women is access to contraception. In a study conducted by Washington University-St. Louis, providing no-cost birth control to women reduces abortions by 62-78%. With this and other corroborating studies in mind, it is confusing that the primary approach by anti-abortion activists is to infringe on medical care as opposed to providing it.

      

     Women Speak Out

     Many women are likening the religious undertones of the anti-abortion movement to Sharia Law under the Taliban. With recent events unfolding in Afghanistan, some have found it controversial, and have indicated that American women have little room to complain in comparison to the experiences of Afghan women.

     It may be true that women in certain countries face more extensive human rights abuses. But before trying to shame women seeking the protection of their bodily autonomy, keep this in mind:

     • Surpassing the Taliban in women’s rights is not an accomplishment, and is certainly not a reason to silence women who are disappointed in legislation which violates our rights.
     • Women do not have to accept the false dichotomy of life under the Taliban and America’s brand of diet sexism. We can and will pursue a society where our rights are respected in full.

      

     In order to combat the latest eerie infringement on reproductive rights, the facts on women’s health need to be heard, and our frustrations need to be understood. We will not go back.

208. History does not repeat, but it does rhyme.

     August 18, 2021 4:47 pm Leave a Comment

     

      

     Gunshots ring out in the air. Men, women, and children clamor at the gates of their capital’s last airport begging for safe passage away from the oncoming enemy army. US troops attempt to control the crowd but some manage to make it onto the runway to stop planes from leaving. Some even cling onto planes as they fly off, falling later on. When one of these behemoth planes carrying hundreds of fleeing civilians attempts to land, the crew notices a body stuck in the right wheel well of the aircraft. Another victim was caused by the mass confusion and hysteria at the airport.

      

     However, the trauma does not end there. Knowing the Taliban, we should not trust that they would not retaliate against those who collaborated with the US-led coalition forces. Taliban forces have already begun targeting interpreters that worked with US forces. Though the Taliban say that they will not seek revenge on collaborators, this seems nothing more than appeasement to the US while they evacuate. If the Taliban were earnest in this regard, they would not feel the need to set up armed checkpoints to screen and harass collaborators. 

      

     To some Americans, especially those of the younger generations, these scenes of fleeing Afghan civilians are shocking, terrifying, and unheard of. To the millions of South Vietnamese that fled since 1975, this was a reminder of the fleeting days of their own country. 

      

     South Vietnam had a similar situation. The government was propped up by the United States and was greatly assisted by the US and allied forces in combating their own insurgency. When the United States withdrew in 1973 after 8 years of major combat operations. The United States had spent a considerable amount of time training the South Vietnamese forces and made deals to continue supplying their military. However, the South Vietnamese Army, the Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN) faced similar corruption problems as the Afghan National Army (ANA). Alongside other factors such as Communist support from China and the USSR in the region greatly increased while American support decreased. Eventually, the south would fall in a major offensive, leading to its eventual collapse on April 30th, 1975. Due to fears of retaliation, leading to waves of refugees known as “boat people”. 

      

     Similar to what happened in South Vietnam, the world should expect a refugee crisis even larger than the Syrian refugee crisis a couple of years ago. The United States should move forward with evacuating as many refugees as possible and setting up a process for these people to find new homes. It is appalling how disorganized the current situation is but the United States can make up for it by doing what we can now. The past is in the past and the rest of the country has fallen. We at least owe it to those who have made it to Kabul to assist. It will not be easy, but if the United States seeks to remain a beacon of hope, it must utilize its vast political and economic resources to assist in the oncoming refugee crisis. 

209. Afghan Betrayal – How We Broke A Promise to Women and Girls in Afghanistan

     August 16, 2021 10:27 pm 3 Comments

     

      

      

     Newport, Rhode Island, August 16: Sixteen years ago, in October 2005, I found myself on a mountain in Wardak province, Afghanistan. Facing me were two rows of girls sitting cross-legged on the ground (photo). Nearby were the ruins of their school, which had been burned down because of a land dispute.

     As the wind whipped up the dust, the girls had their text books open and were following their teacher with serious expressions. One student told me through an interpreter that she had walked several miles to attend this open air class. She was not to be denied.

     I was smitten. There is no other word for it. High up in this spectacular setting, these girls were rejecting centuries of discrimination and turning their right to education into something personally empowering – in the face of enormous odds. I vowed never to take education for granted again.

     The girls were also lucky in their leader, one of the most inspiring women I have ever met. She was born during the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, spent much of her early life in a refugee camp in Pakistan and returned in 2002 with a burning determination to educate girls. It started in the living room of her family home, high up in Wardak.

     Over the past twenty years, she has put almost 4,000 girls and mothers through schools and literacy centers. Every school had been a labor of love and fraught with difficulty. But I remember sitting there on the mountain and thinking – this might just work. I also realized that the effort was bringing new purpose to my own endeavors.

     *

     Such is the appeal of girls’ education in Afghanistan. Hundreds – perhaps thousands – of aid workers have passed through the country since 2002 and no doubt felt as I did. In 2001 there were less than 900,000 students in Afghan schools and all were males. By last year the number had risen to 9.5 million and 39% were girls. Even allowing for exaggerations and “ghost” enrollments that is impressive.

     Unfortunately it is also irrelevant, at least for now. Now is not the time for self-congratulation. Now is the time to be clear-eyed about the disaster in Afghanistan, and remind ourselves that we put a target on the back of these girls.

     It is hard to overstate the horror of this moment. The photos of desperate Afghans clinging to planes – so reminiscent of Vietnam in 1975 – speak for themselves. By some accounts the Taliban march on Kabul has been marked by summary executions, forced marriages, rape and the enslavement of girls. I have seen no hard evidence that the Taliban have permitted girls’ education in any of the territory they have taken.

     And why would they? They will remember the humiliation of their defeat in 2001, the detentions at the Bagram air base and the notorious center at Guantanamo Bay where detainees were denied legal protection and Korans were flushed down the toilet. Of course they will take out their fury on women and girls, who symbolized the West’s ambitions.

     *

     How did it come to this? For me it began with Laura Bush, whose embrace of girls’ education in Afghanistan offered a welcome palliative after 9/11. Mrs Bush did for girls in Afghanistan what Hillary Clinton’s 1999 visit to the Eastern Congo did for victims of war rape.

     The two first ladies were certainly effective at shining the light on women’s rights and mobilizing resources, but that’s not what I think of right now. Instead, I think of self-promoters who jumped on the bandwagon like Craig Mortenson, lionized by the New York Times and others for his efforts to promote girls’ education until he was exposed as a fabricator and liar.

     I think of the American NGO conglomerate International Relief and Development that was entrusted with $2.4 billion dollars of US aid in Iraq and Afghanistan until a USAID investigation found that its director and wife had pocketed almost $6 million.

     These were extreme examples, of course. But even for the well-intentioned, Afghanistan always carried the whiff of adventure. We have to ask ourselves whether this was appropriate and whether it contributed to the peril now facing our Afghan friends.

     *

     The core problem has always been that US was never really committed to building a civil state in Afghanistan, Laura Bush notwithstanding. The mission from the start was military and the goal was always to kill Bin-Laden and defeat the Taliban. Even that lost some urgency after the US invasion of Iraq in 2003.

     NATO, a military alliance, found itself drawn into a mission in Afghanistan – half peace and half war – that was completely inappropriate. This diluted the efforts of European members of NATO that were far more committed to the civilian mission than the US.
     It also led to some far-reaching blunders. One was committed by the Germans, who relaxed a long-standing policy against foreign military adventures in order to pull their weight in the Afghan war. This looked like a serious mistake in 2009 after a German airstrike killed scores of Afghan civilians in the province of Kunduz.

     The civilian mission in Afghanistan kept butting up against the military imperatives and losing. So many Afghan wedding parties were bombed by NATO airstrikes in the early years that it began to look like a deliberate strategy, and hence a war crime.

     Americans were outraged when the International Criminal Court decided to investigate US forces in Afghanistan in March 2020, but the decision was taken with reluctance rather than glee. To have ignored the evidence would have cast serious doubts on the Court’s credibility.
     

     According to the UN Mission in Afghanistan, airstrikes by the Afghan air force and NATO continued to kill Afghan civilians to the bitter end. Of course, the Taliban killed many more, but they were not doing the noble work of building peace.

     One device used by NATO governments was the deployment of “provincial reconstruction teams” to spur development in provinces under their military authority. This produced a patchwork of policies that made any national aid effort next to impossible. Some of the teams were led by soldiers and others by civilians. This blurred the line between military and civilian and exposed more neutral aid workers to serious risk.

     The saddest experiment in pacification, for me, was known as “Human Terrain.” This embedded social scientists with military patrols and took the life one of my first students at Georgetown, Paula Lloyd, who was doused with gasoline during a visit to a village in 2008. Paula died later of her burns. Her parents created a foundation to support girls’ education in her memory.

     *

     In spite of this trail of tears, I cannot understand the reasoning behind Biden’s abrupt decision to pull out American troops or the unquestioning acquiescence of European allies. I opposed the invasions of Vietnam and Iraq, but found it easier to came to terms with the overthrow of the Taliban in Afghanistan in 2001 precisely because it was quickly followed by the promise to empower women and girls.

     Even now I feel that the US/NATO presence – for all its flaws – served as a stabilizing influence. Look no further than the savage bombing of the Sayed ul-Shuhuda school for girls in Kabul on May 8, shortly after Biden announced that the US would withdraw by September 11.

     What is the logic behind Biden’s decision? The last American casualties in Afghanistan occurred in early 2020 and the risks had been whittled down to near zero. The US has maintained troops in Korea and Germany for almost 70 years. Could it not have stayed longer in Afghanistan to buy time for a concerted push for peace? The answer was no. Americans wanted out and Biden’s heart was never in it. The promise made to Afghan women in 2001 was ignored.

     Americans describe Afghanistan as America’s longest war, and bemoan the cost in blood and treasure. It has certainly been appallingly high. But the mission was urgent and vital to women and girls. Afghans I met had no interest in reviewing Afghanistan’s history as a graveyard of imperial ambitions, from Britain to the Soviet Union. Instead, they would cock a quizzical eye and ask me to focus on the here and now. They understood that every day spent at school by a girl was an achievement. Unlike many aid initiatives, success was also easily measured.
     

     I heard much the same from US Army veterans who served in Afghanistan and later passed through my class at Georgetown. They seemed to feel that the protection of civilians had brought credit to their own efforts. I imagine they will not be pleased when their successors supervise the evacuation of Americans while Afghan girls are left to their fate. Whatever the domestic political gains from withdrawal, Afghanistan will leave an indelible stain on Biden’s legacy.

     *

     The world is now facing a full-blown humanitarian catastrophe in Afghanistan. Depending on the Taliban’s next moves, all options should be on the table, including even the creation of a safe haven inside Afghanistan. Who better to make this case than Samantha Power, the head of USAID, who argued eloquently for humanitarian intervention earlier in her career?

     The Biden administration has set up a new refugee category for Afghans who worked with American NGOs, and that pledge must be honored by this and future administrations. But the US will only consider applicants once they reach a third country and it will not be easy for women to escape the noose. Pakistan has sponsored the Taliban and may not want to incur their wrath. Iran is hostile to the US. It will take money and humility to persuade both governments to open their doors to Afghan refugees once again.
     

     Europe too must pull its weight, although early signs are not promising. Just last week six European governments demanded that the European Union continue to deport Afghan asylum seekers, even as the Afghan government was collapsing. The decision was reversed a few days later.

     And what of the aid community? We must take our cue from Afghan women leaders and do everything in our power to support and encourage them. Those who can will escape, regroup and appear at international conferences, showing the same passion and dignity they have shown throughout. They should be listened to with respect and admiration.

     We should also understand that the global mission to educate and protect women and girls is more urgent than ever, and vigorously challenge governments like Britain which recently cut its contribution to the UN Population Fund by 85%.

     *

     At the personal level, this disaster must provoke serious soul-searching by those who answered the call after 2001. If we were in it for ego, or what is sometimes called the “White Savior Complex,” then we were complicit. But if we responded to a request by a local partner, it was entirely appropriate. Would that everyone could experience the thrill of seeing girls at school in the Global South.

     But such partnerships must be based on mutual respect. The problem with North-South aid is not the personal motives of aid workers, but the assumption by donors that they can impose an agenda. Afghanistan shows that this is dangerously misguided, not just because Northern politicians are untrustworthy but because the moral authority in any North-South partnership must always lie with the local partners who put their lives on the line. The closer you get to such people, the clearer this becomes – and the harder it becomes to walk away if it all goes wrong.

     Which raises the following question: should we have made that promise in 2001, knowing that the ultimate outcome would almost certainly be beyond our control? I put this to our Afghan partner, who launched the Wardak school program and has been able to escape Afghanistan. Would she do it all again knowing how it ends?
     

     “Absolutely,” she replied. “What we did is irreversible. Once girls and mothers have been educated, you can’t turn the clock back.”
     

     This is the one crumb of comfort I can draw from this disaster.

     

      

210. Former Liberian President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf on Ebola Survivors and Covid-19 Global Pandemic Response

     1:25 pm Leave a Comment

     Former Liberian President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf has urged Liberian Ebola Survivors to raise their voices louder than they have been doing to attract Government’s attention to their plight. Though she notes that Government alone cannot meet every need; communities and individuals, she says must bear responsibility for their own issues.

     The Former President told me over the weekend that there is not widespread information within the policy making circles about the plight of Ebola Survivors; but recognized that catering for their concerns remains the responsibility of the Government. The Former President said Government may have many competing priorities and resources required to deal with survivors’ issues may not be properly allocated.

     She however urged survivors themselves to make use of the Government structures, using their local district representatives to raise their concerns with the National Legislature that she says is responsible for budgetary allocations. The former President noted that to solve public problems, public policymakers must know the problems; and to know the problems, public leaders must have sufficient information about the problem. The lack of this information on Ebola survivors, she says, may be affecting what action Government can take to respond to their concerns.

     

     Former Liberian President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf; she spoke with me over the weekend at her residence in Monrovia

     On the global response to the coronavirus pandemic, the Former Liberian President fell short of casting blame on any institution or Government, but indicated that “we were all caught unaware; we were not prepared for this, we did not anticipate this; you can imagine wealthy and powerful countries like the United States were scrambling for protective equipment, ventilators and masks at the time the pandemic struck; so no one is to blame; but we all take responsibility for the situation.”

     The Former President indicated that an earlier response by the world would have prevented the global pandemic. She praised the human resilience to deal with challenges, indicating that “we will come out of it; there will be lots of damages done as we have already seen to economies and to lives, but we will come out of it.”

     The Former President praised the African response to the pandemic; noting Africa’s effort to pioneer COVAX-the global coronavirus vaccine platform to service poor countries. While she condemned the global imbalance in access to vaccines, Mrs Sirleaf urged poorer countries to better allocate their resources to scientific research and pandemic preparedness; noting that every State has its first responsibility to its citizens.

     Mrs Sirleaf told me that she was pleased with Liberia’s response to the coronavirus pandemic. As she hoped, the current leadership, she said, drew on the incident management system that her administration had established at the time of the 2014-2016 Ebola epidemic. She referenced, in particular, community health workers who she said sprang to action once covid-19 hit Liberia; this, among many other efforts, she attributes to Liberia’s relatively better performance in its covid-19 response.

     In terms of calls for reparations to survivors of pandemics and epidemics, including for Ebola survivors in Liberia to be paid reparations, the Former President said the best reparations to victims and survivors of health crisis are stronger health systems that can both respond to their needs and absorb the shocks of subsequent crisis.

211. Hailing their confidence: Liberian women Ebola survivors conclude AP-supported embroidery storytelling project in Monrovia

     August 13, 2021 2:08 pm Leave a Comment

     “It has been an enlivening moment for us,” said, Lulu Richards, Head of the Women Wing of the National Ebola Survivors Network of Liberia. “We are grateful that people around the world still think about us. Since we came from the ETU, five years ago, all our engagements have been that they call us and take something from us including plasma, as they say, to make vaccines and drugs to help other people who are suffering from Ebola.”

     “But this project really showed us that people are willing to listen to us and we are glad that we were able to go through and complete the training and now have completed our stories.” She continued: “But this should not be the end. We look forward to bigger cooperation with AP; as many of our survivors are in isolation. Since their losses during the crisis, they have not had the opportunity to recoup. We hope people out there will read our stories and be moved to reach out to us.”

     Lulu is a 35-year-old Ebola survivor. She contracted Ebola through caring for her friend whom she had met sometime in 2014 when Ebola was raging in Liberia. She told me during my interview trail with women survivors, she had taken her daughter to a local health facility for treatment. There she met her friend along with her children. The lady, Lulu said, was helpless at the health facility, vomiting and passing stool. Lulu told me that it had been a long while when she last met her friend. This prompted her to intervene. It was here and then that her Ebola episode began.

     That friend passed away a few days later and Lulu became ill. She was taken to the treatment unit and recovered. But upon returning to her community, she faced stigma. Among the many experiences she recalled, was her being refused to fetch water at the community borehole after her recovery. Each time she attempted to fetch water, she told me she would be shunned by the community dwellers who were there.

     

     Lulu’s ordeal is similar to the stories we have heard during the last three months working with the Ebola Survivors Network of Liberia. Under AP’s sponsorship, we launched a 7week Embroidery Skill Training program for 12 Liberian women randomly selected based on their willingness to tell their stories. They all had contracted Ebola during the 2014-2016 Ebola Epidemic in Liberia, were taken to the ETU and recovered from the virus.

     On June 22, the Embroidery Training started in Monrovia at the Network’s Office. The objective was to ensure that the ladies first acquired skills in embroidery, and second, use the newly acquired skills to tell their Ebola stories. They each embroidered on a piece of textile, a defining moment they recall during their Ebola ordeal, either at the time they contracted Ebola, when they were taken into the Ebola Treatment Unit or when they returned to their communities following recovery.

     Some of the stories we have heard about, and which were embroidered as the story telling project came to a close today include, Patricia Fahnbulleh, a 25-year-old young woman, who was just 19 at the time of the Ebola outbreak. Patricia contracted Ebola through caring for her sick father, who before it was revealed, died of Ebola. She remembers a pivotal moment in the ETU when each morning she would wake up with all those that were around her bed dead, and would be mistaken as well, as a dead person and disinfected with a chlorinated spray by the ETU workers.

     She narrated that she would wake up suddenly in astonishment. When she asked why the ETU workers were spraying her, she said to me, they would tell me, all these people who are around here are dead; so, we thought you too were dead. This happened to her on many occasions. Patricia embroidered this story remembering this moment.

     

     Finda Howard, 35, recalls Police Officers locking themselves in at the Pipeline Police Station in Paynesville, when she told them that her husband had died of suspected Ebola symptoms, and that she and her little child had been in the house with the corpse for three days and no Ebola Response Team had come to collect the body. She recalled that all the officers that were sitting outside the Police Station locked themselves in and left her standing outside around midnight. They feared that by talking with Finda, the widow of a suspected Ebola victim, they would contract Ebola. For her, this was more than traumatic. Finda embroidered this experience.

     

     Among the many stories we have heard over the course of the last two months, the courage of these ladies to come out of their seclusion, and associate and build the kind of solidarity that developed over the course of the activities is remarkable.

     Their courage is worth commending. As we brought the activities to a close, we encouraged the ladies to continue to meet and pursue common causes and explore partnership with AP and other groups interested in ensuring Ebola Survivors in Liberia and across the West African sub-region are fully integrated and empowered in their communities.

212. Joint Ownership of Suffering from COVID-19

     11:57 am Leave a Comment

     Yesterday, I went to get my hair cut in downtown Gloucester, Massachusetts, a blue-collar fishing town on Cape Ann where I am spending the summer, as I have for the last 24 years. 

      

     The inside of the salon was dingy, dark, and dirty, yet the middle-aged, heavy-set woman who greeted me lit up the place with her warmth. As soon as she finished cutting the white hair of an older man, she turned to me, pointing me towards a swivel chair next to the sinks. We were the only people inside the vast shop, creating an eerily intimate atmosphere that seemed to mirror my inner state. As she started to dye my hair, the woman and I got to talking. Our conversation quickly flowed from banal chat to discussion of the state of the pandemic.  

      

     “Did you get it?” I asked her.

      

     “I got it on Valentine’s day!” she began.

      

     “I had it in January!” I immediately replied, with a newfound empathy for this stranger. There is something unique —  intimate even — about sharing one’s experience with COVID with another person who also got sick from the virus. It almost feels like you’re in on a secret; you both understand the virus as a tangible sickness rather than an abstract disease.  

      

     I told her about my bout with the illness, and how, despite my best efforts to protect my 89-year old grandmother, whom I was living with at the time, she nonetheless came down with the virus. She eventually had to receive IV antibodies at home to recover. 

      

     The hairdresser expressed her sympathies and her obvious joy at the fact that both I and my grandmother fully recovered. 

      

     She went on to tell me that she and her husband had been traveling back and forth between Massachusetts and Florida at the beginning of the year. When they went down to Florida for a brief period, they had dinner with their neighbor, who neglected to let them know that just the previous day he had gone to a maskless conference. He ended up coming down with COVID, and, naturally, infecting the hairdresser and her husband. For weeks the neighbor refused to believe that he had a severe case of COVID, instead blaming his illness on the flu. The hairdresser’s husband, too, refused to acknowledge the severity of his symptoms. Frustrated with his refusal to go to the emergency room, the hairdresser flew back to Massachusetts. Unable to sleep that night, she called her husband at two in the morning, and ordered him to get into the ambulance. Unable to breath, he finally consented.  

      

     Her husband was on life support for three months. He could not breathe, so he received oxygen from a ventilator. Then, his liver and kidneys started to fail. His heart followed. The doctors gave him a next-to-nothing chance of survival. 

      

     Nonetheless, he stayed alive. After three months in the hospital, in May, he was finally released with an extremely expensive medical bill, and permanently damaged lungs and kidneys, as well as a permanently damaged heart and liver. To this day, he continues to receive care from home, and doctors are not sure why his health continues to deteriorate. The medication he takes for his heart severely harms his kidneys and liver, and vice versa. He is a mess. 

      

     The hairdresser is desperate for some good news. She’s tired of going from doctor to doctor without a concrete explanation or solution. She’s physically and emotionally drained, because despite her best efforts, COVID continues to kill her husband. 

      

     On top of that, her autistic granddaughter is struggling with online learning, and she fears that if classes are not in person, she will continue to fall through the cracks. Her daughter, the mother of the autistic girl, refuses to advocate on her daughter’s behalf — in fact, she will not get vaccinated because she does not trust the rapidity with which the vaccine was released, despite witnessing what COVID has done to her father. 

      

     The hairdresser feels like her husband is invisible; she feels like her granddaughter is invisible; she feels invisible. 

      

     For that reason, she tells me, overcome with desperation and anger: “I can’t stand when people say ‘white privilege.’ Look at us! We are suffering.”

      

     The pandemic has wreaked havoc on so many people in so many ways all over the world. As the world reels from the Delta variant, let’s not forget the human toll that this virus has taken. We must work together across racial, ethnic, socio-economic, and national divides to develop solutions that prioritize the wellbeing of people. 

213. Climate change is knocking on our door: Wildfires in Turkey

     August 7, 2021 4:42 pm Leave a Comment

     In the midst of a severe heatwave and following months of dry weather, Turkey is facing some of its worst wildfires. Over the past 10 days, more than 150 wildfires broke out in over 30 Turkish provinces. Fed by strong winds and scorching temperatures, the fires spread very fast. Most of the fires have ignited along the Mediterranean and Aegean Sea coasts, several in resort areas that are highly popular for summer vacation.

     

     (Photo by Mahmut Serdar Alakus/Anadolu Agency)

     On Turkey’s southern coast, farmers are facing apocalyptic scenes as wildfires continue to sweep the country. The fires have left eight people dead and forced thousands of residents and tourists to flee homes or vacation resorts in boats or convoys of cars and trucks. Charred and blackened trees have replaced some of the pine-coated hills in Turkey’s Turquoise Coast. Many villagers lost homes and livestock.

     

     As residents lost homes and livestock, President Erdogan’s government faced increased criticism over its apparent poor response and inadequate preparedness for large-scale wildfires. The government admitted that it did not have a usable firefighting aircraft fleet. It is very clear that the government lacks a proper plan against forest fires and ignores warnings concerning global warming.

     
     Turkey’s neighbor Greece has also suffered a record heatwave and has been battling more than 150 wildfires. Fires blazed uncontrolled for a fifth day, ravaging swathes of land on its second-biggest island of Evia, where hundreds of people had to be evacuated by ferry.

     

     Climate change is already knocking on our doors. As opposed to common understanding, climate change is not an “elitist concern.” By just examining these fires, it is clear that lower and middle-income households have suffered the most. We need to expand awareness and push our governments to consider climate crises very attentively. Otherwise, we will see many environmental refugees in the near future.

      

      

      

      

      

214. Fighting Ebola and Covid-19, a Liberian health worker’s experience on both fronts

     August 6, 2021 2:51 pm Leave a Comment

     Over the last several weeks, I have been following the experiences of persons who survived the Ebola Virus Disease Epidemic in Liberia. But there were many individuals and institutions that were instrumental in ensuring that, even though the West African outbreak was the worst in the history of Ebola outbreaks in the world, it also marked the best experience in which many persons survived, and along with them are numerous benefits; in terms of knowledge improvement about the Ebola Virus Disease itself, the impacts it makes on the human body for those who survive and also for the production of therapeutics and vaccines, some of which have been used to quell most recent outbreaks in the Democratic Republic of Congo and Guinea.

     Health workers, doctors, nurses, and all hospital and health center staff members that refused to balk but faced the challenge with tenaciousness are the remarkable warriors that we can point to for the success story of more Ebola survivors in Liberia and in the West African region.

     But it is a rare experience, as I have been finding out, to fight in more than one public health crisis in a similar role; fighting both the misinformation that accompanies the outbreak, the community stigma and rejection that come with being involved in outbreak response, and the risk to one’s own safety and security.

     This has been the experience of Physician Assistant Maxwell Tangay, a responder at the Coronavirus Treatment Unit at Starbase on the Bushrod Island in Monrovia. Tangay is currently active in the coronavirus response in Liberia. When Liberia’s index case broke, he was there. He was active during the 2014-2016 Ebola outbreak and has been active on many other infectious disease outbreaks since he became a health worker, as he tells me, about 10 years ago. Lassa fever and monkey pox response, he tells me, are experiences under his belt.

     

     Maxwell Tangay, PA, is a Liberian Health Worker currently responding to Liberia’s Coronavirus Disease outbreak at the Starbase Covid-19 Treatment Unit, CTU, on Bushrod Island in Monrovia. He also responded to the Ebola outbreak in 2014-2016 in Gbarpolu County.

     Tangay completed his training at the Tubman National Institute of Medical Arts in Monrovia, a middle level training institution for Liberia’s health service. At the time he completed his training, he says, Liberia, was fighting the shortage of health workers particularly in rural areas. So, he chose to start his service in rural Liberia, Gbarpolu County, the northwestern part of the country. There he was multi-tasking within the county health system, when after about 2years and six months in active service when Ebola struck Liberia.

     For him, the outbreak was both frightening and a challenge. He says, “the outbreak seems though we as a country were at war; like soldiers trained in combat tactics, but when an enemy invades, then we decide whether to fight as soldiers or retreat in cowardice.” He says to me there were dilemmas that health workers faced responding to Ebola. Family members were very clear to their members who were health workers, as Tangay says, that “we should quit our jobs and retreat to our homes to safety until the outbreak had passed.” Tangay says, landlords evicted their health worker tenants, because they considered them risks to others. But to Tangay, not responding would have been a betrayal to himself, his career and to his country.

     Through our conversation, I get a sense of what it looked like responding to an infectious disease outbreak, Ebola, in remote rural areas where there are no road networks, and where the means of transportation from one location to another is on foot and sometimes, hand propelled canoes. He tells me that it was in rural Gbarpolu, Bokomu District close to Bong County, where the Gbarpolu index case was spotted and for the weeks that followed, health workers including himself were dispatched to respond. Due to the low human resource capacity within the Gbarpolu Health Team and at the time low incidence and sporadic nature of the outbreak, suspects were referred to nearby counties, Bomi for those who were closest in the south of the county, and Bong County for cases that were detected in the eastern part of Gbarpolu County.

     But transporting sick persons from one location within the county to a pickup point where they were then ferry to nearby Bong or Bomi Counties where the capacity was much stronger was the main challenge. Tangay tells me, sick persons were supported to walk by themselves and usually escorted by a health worker who was fully attired with a Personal Protective Equipment and a chlorine spray can.

     Tangay says “as the patient took steps ahead, the health worker sprayed the path that the patient passed through disinfecting the areas. If the patient was becoming weaker as we walked hours, I would help them with an intravenous to restore their strength until we got to the crossing location where we would meet a canoe and an ambulance. The canoe would get the patient across to Bong County, for patients in eastern Gbarpolu and then the Ambulance would take the patient to the ETU in Bong County. Walking took many hours.” The same was the strategy, he tells me, for suspected cases in the south of Gbarpolu who were transferred to Bomi County.

     Tangay says many suspected persons died on the way to treatment because of the lack of road connectivity in Gbarpolu, a situation he says possibly mirrors the experiences in many rural areas of Liberia where ambulances and medical teams could not get access due to impassable roads. But help came for Gbarpolu, he tells me, when the United States deployed about 35 Marines to the County, who constructed the Ebola Treatment Unit. That ETU saw about 2 cases when the outbreak ended in the county[1].

     Responding to covid-19, Tangay says is much easier and less stressful compared to Ebola response. He described Ebola as deleterious, which carried much uncertainty and terror compared with covid-19 response. Tangay says, the use of reinforced personal protective equipment[2], the widespread lack of knowledge about Ebola among health workers, at the time of the Ebola outbreak made it a terror.

     But he says health workers now have even more knowledge about infection prevention and control than they did when Ebola struck. This increased knowledge he attributes to Liberia’s general experience with Ebola. Tangay says, many international partners, including the German Development Cooperation (GIZ), were already present in Liberia preparing health workers to respond to covid 19 before the first case was confirmed. Ebola, he says, presented much confusion and with it, fatality of many health workers.

     Tangay tells me, his duty station was the only isolation unit in the country, an 11-bed unit located at the Redemption Hospital in Monrovia, when covid broke out. The unit is tasked with managing infectious diseases. He was thus a natural first responder during the current covid-19 crisis. A role he says he enjoys playing. Even though, he says, no one enjoys putting their lives and families at risk, but emergency response has been his lot since becoming a practitioner and it is the passion that drives his work.

     [1] Health teams in Bong and Bomi Counties, with much better accessibility to Monrovia where the Ministry of Health headquarters is located aided Gbarpolu’s response to the Ebola outbreak. Gbarpolu is the last created counties among Liberia’s 15counties.

     [2] Reinforced PPEs made it difficult to breathe, as Tangay told me, and health workers had limited opportunities to care for patients while in reinforced PPEs

215. The Disease-Related Stigma: HIV, Ebola, and COVID-19

     July 30, 2021 3:19 pm 2 Comments

     During my fellowship with the Advocacy Project, I’ve been backing up Matthew in Liberia. His recent blog on stigma and Ebola caused me to think about two other killers – Ebola and HIV/AIDS. All of these diseases were very different but had one thing in common. They had different regions of origin, had varying impacts on the immune system, had targeted diverse parts of the demographic, and were treated differently. At first look, these three diseases may look quite different from each other. However, they all caused some form of stigma. In this blog, I will be referring to Matthew’s experiences and blogs in my own analysis in order to better exemplify the importance and implications of stigma. 

     First of all, what is stigma? It’s stereotyping a certain group or a person and treating them as social outcasts. Causes of stigma may vary but if we have to identify some, they would be: fear, ignorance, prejudice, political propaganda, racism, and xenophobia. The first and most obvious one is fear. When it comes to disease-related stigma, fear exists above all the other factors as the most obvious reaction from people is being afraid of contracting the disease. This obviously applies across the board to all contagious diseases. With that being said, however, other factors help target certain groups of people which the stigma directly impacts. For HIV, this was gay men; for Ebola, it was the people from Africa, and for COVID-19; we have seen that the Asian community has been a huge target for stigmatization and hate. 

     The second most important factor is ignorance and misconception. Usually, when there is a disease that’s spreading at a rapid rate, the most frightening thing about it is its uncertainty. It takes a certain amount of time for the doctors and scientists to come up with a report on the virus or the disease. During that time, conspiracy theories take over the stage. Back in the Middle Ages, they did not understand the science and causes of disease. Even though we are not living in the Middle Ages anymore, we have a new system now that causes ignorance which is the circulation of wrong information through different media outlets. Our Liberia fellow, Matthew has talked about the misinformation campaign during the EVD crisis. The survivors explain that during the spread of the disease, there was a myth that claimed that the crisis was a ploy by the Government to sell human kidneys to some foreigners who were in the country to purchase kidneys for hefty payments. Through the spread of this misinformation, the response against the disease was highly damaged. Stigma caused by misinformation makes it much harder to isolate, understand and deal with the root causes of the problem and use science as our guide.

     The next factor is prejudice. With AIDS, it was homosexuality and sex that made people more biased towards the group of people who were being infected. When HIV broke out around 1981 in San Fransisco, people labeled it as “a gay man’s disease.” This label had so many social implications that delayed the founding of the treatment. Because of its main transmission source which is through sex, radical religious groups believed that it was God’s way of punishing gay people or people who are having premarital sex. Of course, in the 1980s gay people were heavily stigmatized, so the disease that was associated with them fed on this bias and fear. 

     The most recent factor that we have seen when we are dealing with COVID-19 was political propaganda. When we look at HIV, we have seen a similar political response, where a certain group of people was targeted by the politicians. We also see that the initial response to disease by the politicians highly impacts the perception of people. HIV was not taken seriously by President Reagan and the response was highly delayed causing more deaths and infections. Similarly, during COVID-19, we have witnessed that the politicians around the world did not take the disease seriously at first and the response was delayed. The former U.S. President Donald Trump, not only underestimated the dangers of COVID-19 but also had racist remarks about the origins of the disease by calling it the “Chinese virus” which had a huge impact on the public’s perspective on the disease. 

     The final factor which feeds from political propaganda is racism and xenophobia. When politicians openly target a group for a certain problem in society, people seemed to blame that group for all the disasters that the problem has caused. As a result, they also tend to express their hate and dislike towards that group much more bravely. During COVID-19, we have seen that the Asian community has been a huge target for stigmatization and hate because of the aforementioned remarks coming from the president. 

     So, what does stigma do other than targeting certain groups of people? The short answer is that the overall result and effect of stigma make the crisis worse. The stigma becomes a barrier to care for patients with HIV, Ebola, and COVID-19, which often lead to some form of disaffection with the infected persons. Patients going untreated because of stigma fuels further transmission. So, the rate of transmission increases leading to a higher number of cases. Stigma also leads to discrimination after the disease has been treated as well. For example, patients who have recovered from Ebola faced discrimination, primarily due to fear, ignorance. According to Matthew’s first blog, he is talking about a risk officer at the local bank who has lost his job because he contracted Ebola and was denied access to the bank even after he recovered. 

     Many questions arise from this discussion: Are we going to see prejudice against the survivors of COVID-19? If yes, how will that look like? Are we going to see prejudice against anti-vaxxers and how are we going to make sure that everyone gets vaccinated? Would stigmatizing anti-vaxxers work or would that make this problem even more dangerous? The answers to these questions are going to be integral as we enter a post-pandemic world. From the looks of it, we are about to see a huge backlash against unvaccinated people as the countries in Europe are thinking about limiting unvaccinated people’s access to public transportation, public spaces, and malls. However, this can cause unvaccinated people to have more radicalized opinions and completely deter them from getting the vaccine. It’s also important to remember that some people around the world, especially in the Global South and developing countries, are still struggling to get the vaccine. This means that stigma might develop against people from less fortunate backgrounds and places with none to limited resources causing once again for minorities and marginalized communities to take the biggest hit. 

216. How being isolated in the community reinforced stigma and resentment against persons and families affected by the 2014-2016 Ebola crisis in Liberia

     10:34 am 1 Comment

     One of the most brutal memories of encountering and overcoming Ebola for survivors is the isolation that accompanied news of being infected with the virus or being a suspect. Ebola was not an airborne infection. Proven modes of transmission are through direct contact with an infected person, their belongings, and the contaminated part of one’s body (mostly the hand) touching body openings, like the eyes, nose, ear, or mouth. The Ebola virus is known to live on surfaces for several days.

     Given the disbelief that greeted the outbreak at the time, and the ingrained culture of caring for the sick in Liberia, and probably the subregion, following the Ebola prevention edicts, especially of no touching, proved difficult. And with the refusal, came the spread of infections and the unfortunate deaths of many, otherwise innocent people who believed they were only playing the caring role for a family member who had fallen sick.

     

     An Ebola Prevention Message from the Monrovia City Corporation (Liberia, 2014)

     The Ebola infections in Barkedu, Lofa County that reportedly sparked the second outbreak were made worse by a group of villagers providing care for their sick son and his girlfriend who had travelled from Monrovia. Even though messages had gone around that Liberia was facing an Ebola emergency, the accompanying disinformation campaign that Ebola was fake news, and a calculated ploy by the Government to sell human kidneys, saw people flout the caution[1] that was required in dealing with sick persons during the early days of a crisis.

     The two had contracted Ebola in Monrovia, through contact with a housemate who contracted Ebola in Sierra Leone and escaped to Barkedu for fear of being taken in at the Ebola Treatment Unit or being isolated in their Monrovia neighbourhood. The outbreak they caused killed close to 500 persons. We learned about this case during one of our encounters with Ebola survivors. You can read more detail about this account here.

     At the time, the message of isolation had not sunk in, the conspiracy theories were still being peddled and with them the innocent deaths and contagion. But the golden rule was, “don’t touch a sick person; no matter what.” It was a difficult rule to follow, as Ebola survivors have been telling me. “How do you tell me, I should not touch my sick or dying mother, father, brother, sister or child because I would contract Ebola if I did?” an Ebola survivor gnawed at me. “Along with the Ebola myths that had spread, we were prepared to die, if that were the case, for our loved ones. But if it was a heresy to care for our sick, we were prepared to commit that as well.”

     

     An Ebola Prevention Messaging during the 2014 Outbreak (Liberia, 2014)

     As the crisis dragged on and more deaths were reported, communities themselves got involved in reporting suspected sick persons and preventing new entries into their communities. It is this period during the outbreak that survivors have told me that they mostly dread, and which still brings sorrow to them when they think about their experiences during the crisis 6years after.

     The symptoms of being an Ebola suspect were diarrhoea, vomiting and passing out watery stool, lack of appetite, high fever, hiccups, and at acute stages, the oozing of blood through the ears, nose, and mouth. All of these symptoms render the body weak. And a sick person would often require the help of a relative to rehydrate. But touching was a taboo. No one was permitted to touch the sick or come within a few inches.

     Suspects, whether individual or whole families, were cordoned off in their homes and community members were made aware that a particular household held Ebola suspects or confirmed cases and that no community member was permitted to come in any contact. Those who were providing food to isolated persons were required to leave the food at the doorstep.

     These edicts reinforced the stigma survivors faced even after they recovered and returned home, as did the arrival of Ebola Response Team (to take out the sick or dead person), along with them, an ambulance with a loud siren. Any home visited by the Response Team became an isolation and stigmatization target.

     The Ebola Response Team, itself, was challenged. The two GSM companies operating in Liberia during the crisis, Orange and MTN, created a hotline, 4455, to report suspected cases. Survivors have been telling me, that calls were made for many days before a Response Ambulance would be dispatched sometimes to take the sick person to the treatment center or to collect the corpse of those who did not live so long and expired before the team could arrive.

     In the Pipeline Community of Paynesville City, on the outskirts of Monrovia, a female survivor told me, her husband became sick with the symptoms of Ebola and she and her young child were the only persons at home with the father. After many tries at various community health facilities, the husband passed away and for days the Ebola Response Team was called in to collect the corpse, but to no avail.

     Upon arriving at the nearby police station to report that her husband had died at home of suspected Ebola symptoms, the Police Officers locked themselves in for fear of contracting Ebola through the lady, even though Ebola was not airborne.

     The lady and her son became infected but survived. She had to leave the community after recovering. She told me the isolation that was enforced when her husband became sick and died, was still in place when she returned from the Ebola Treatment Unit.

     She was not allowed to fetch water at the community water center; community members who decided to help her would not touch the lady’s water utensils. “They would use their bucket, fetch the water and stand at a distance and pour the water into mine; at the market, people would run from me; merchants in the community would refuse to accept money from me; all this while I had been declared Ebola free and I posed no risk to the community.” She had to relocate to her brother’s residence in the Johnsonville community, some 7 kilometres from Pipeline where she recalled this experience.

     Another survivor told me, “our entire home became an island in the community after our father, through whom we contracted Ebola, passed away. We were taken in at the ETU and upon returning, the community turned on us. I remember the first night, my siblings and I had to sleep outside, in an unfinished building. We had gone to a different community to stay with our relatives, but because of the rule that no person was allowed to leave their community, we were sent back to our home. But the fear and shame of being stigmatized and isolated, as we experienced when our father was sick, forced us to spend the night in an unfinished building.”

     Survivors say, “if there is anything we dread about Ebola or covid-19, it is the isolation, rejection and stigma that come with being infected.”

     “We hope such episode will not come again in our lifetime.”

     [1] After people literally refused not to touch the sick, health authorities revised the rules to require plastic coverings on face and hands to provide care for a sick relative and thorough disinfection using chlorine.

217. Uganda Approves Herbal Supplements in the Fight Against COVID-19

     July 28, 2021 11:03 am 1 Comment

     On June 29, the National Drug Authority (NDA) of Uganda approved a herbal supplement called Covidex designed as a supportive treatment in the management of Covid and other viral infections. The drug was developed by Professor Patrick Engeu Ogwang, head of pharmacy at Mbarara University of Science and Technology, located in southwestern Uganda. The drug reportedly contains extracts of berberine, a chemical most commonly taken for diabetes, and zanthoxylum gilletii, a plant with analgesic properties. 

     Uganda has a long history of traditional medicine (TM). During colonial rule, TM was disparaged as backwards in comparison to the “superior” western medicine (WM) introduced and systematized by the British. Since independence in 1962, subsequent Ugandan governments have embraced TM in an effort to strengthen national and cultural identities. The 1993 Drugs Regulatory Authority Act stated that research should be conducted into traditional and herbal medicine. This trend has clearly continued into the Covid crisis, with the government backing not only Covidex, but also Covilyce, a different solution produced by a team at Gulu University. 

     The speed of approval of Covidex is alarming to health advocates. Dr. Monica Musenero, Presidential Advisor on Epidemics and COVID-19, commented: “‘All we see is information on social media of pictures of people lining up to buy the drug. We are not saying that the vaccine is bad or it does not work or is harmful. We just need evidence. Science is designed in a way that no single individual can claim that something works without convincing a panel of other people.’”  Dr. Ambrose Talosuna, the World Health Organization (WHO) Africa’s team leader on emergency preparedness, similarly cautioned against fast-tracking a new drug: “‘people are gullible in a situation like this where there is a pandemic. My recommendation is for the Professor to take his drug through rigorous testing.’” After only 14 days of investigation, Covidex was approved as a supportive treatment in the management of viral infections, with initial scientific assessments completed in a scant three days. Even as random controlled clinical trials are ongoing, the drug has hit the market. 

     Although the NDA explicitly approved Covidex as a supportive treatment, many Ugandans believe that it cures Covid. Emma Ojok, administrator at Gulu Disabled Persons Union in northern Uganda, heard via social media that Covidex takes three days to cure Covid. Over the radio, many users are giving testimony that the drug helped them recover. Emma feels more optimistic about the pandemic with the introduction of this seemingly life-saving drug: “if someone tells you if you take this drug, you are not going to die of Covid. If something works, why don’t we promote it. If it’s curing people, why can’t we use it?” Clearly, the messaging around Covidex does not reflect the reality of the drug as a supplement.

     Included within the danger of false advertising is the manufacture and sale of knock-off Covidex on the black market. Victoria, founder of Women in Action for Women (WAW) in northern Uganda, worries about “duplicates,” especially since hawkers are selling them at more affordable prices than the real drug, which, at 35,000 UGS is out of the price range of the majority of the population.  

      

218. Refugees: A Forgotten Population in the Pandemic

     July 26, 2021 1:27 pm Leave a Comment

     According to a projection by UNHCR, 97.3 million people of concern around the world needing assistance in 2021, including 50 million Internally Displaced people, 26 million refugees, and 5 million asylum seekers. Additionally, 85% of refugees worldwide are in low and middle-income countries where the pandemic has exacerbated economic challenges and strained their fragile health infrastructure. The health concerns facing this vulnerable population are tremendous.

     1. Direct health challenges: Living in urban areas and densely populated camps with shared bathrooms and showers, limited hygiene, and limited protective gear make social distancing impractical and difficult. Many refugees are required to have their identification documents if they need access to health services, however since many are undocumented, the further narrowing of their already limited public health service access is a serious concern.
     2. The burden of trauma: In addition to the trauma that comes with fleeing their homes, dealing with violence, stigmatization, and grief, the pandemic has furthered the mental health challenges of this community. They are experiencing the emotional toll of being a refugee but also fearing losing their livelihood and being isolated during this time.
     3. Economic challenges: During the lockdowns, many refugees have lost their daily income and their temporary jobs. Additionally, they have also been prevented from working in the host country. This further limits their ability to afford treatment if infected with the virus and rebuild their lives.
     4. Halt in the education of the youth: During COVID-19, many schools across the world were closed for in-person classes. The technology and infrastructure required to support a virtual education in many countries were not available. Particularly for the girls who are refugees, an estimation by Malala Fund depicts that half of the refugee girls in secondary schools won’t be able to return when school reopens. It is crucial that we don’t let the pandemic and our negligence rob millions of children of their education and future.
     5. Limited access to information: The socio-cultural barriers and marginalization of these communities have made it challenging to promote health literacy and up-to-date information about the virus and the pandemic.
     6. Limited healthcare professionals in countries of violence: In 2020 alone, there were over 1000 attacks, and 400 particularly with COVID-19, on health care professionals, facilities, as well as patients in countries of conflict such Yemen, Syria, and Libya, according to the UC Berkley Human Rights Center and Insecurity. Additionally, in Syria, approximately 70% of the health workforce left the country leaving only 52% of the primary care centers available. In Yemen also, only 50% of all the health facilities are functional with a mere number of 10 healthcare workers for 10,000 people.

      

     Moving forward, governments of the host countries must include refugees in their health and protection schemes to increase access to quality healthcare regardless of their documentation. An effort should be made to increase the dissemination of the pandemic guidelines in these communities. Education and health are a right to all citizens of the world and governments should make a point to understand that nobody is safe until everybody is safe.

      

      

219. The Risk of Withdrawing Troops from Afghanistan

     July 25, 2021 1:47 pm Leave a Comment

     Disclaimer: My conclusion is based on a compilation of facts from various news sources and is solely my opinion on the matter. 

      

     In April of 2021, the Biden Administration decided to pull out United States troops in Afghanistan by September 11th, 2021. This decision was made on the conclusion that the United States has done what it needed to do in Afghanistan, which includes justice towards the treacherous acts committed by Osama Bin Laden, attack and capture the terrorists involved in 9/11, and lastly, decrease the threat that Afghanistan could be a hub for terrorists to attack the United States in the future. 

     Withdrawing troops out of Afghanistan with many risks. The Taliban could take control which would destroy the democracy created in Afghanistan and further hinder women and girls’ rights. The progress Afghanistan has shown in having a more stable government and life for its citizens will start to seize as power is shifted in the hands of what the United States government has tried to prevent for two decades. 

     Over the past two decades, women’s and girls’ rights have drastically improved compared to the 1990s. The post-Taliban regime gave 87 percent of Afghan people the right to medical facilities, medical care, and medical services available for women. Education for women and girls also improved. Secondary education for girls went from 3 percent in 2003 to 39 percent in 2017. Lastly, women had their voices heard in government. Twenty-one percent of women were civil servants compared to zero while the Taliban was in control, and today, 27 percent of women are currently members of parliament. Ensuring more women and girls attain education and have the resources to be able to have their voices heard through government and the workforce is the change that is necessary to improve Afghanistan as a country. The past two decades have allowed Afghanistan to also grow its GDP from almost 2 billion in 1990 to 19.81 billion US dollars in 2020. This GDP increase has allowed for more opportunities for its citizens, but it is at risk of being taken away.

     As the Taliban takes control of more provinces in Afghanistan, they will also control the rights of the people occupying the land. They will continue to do this, being that there are no troops to stop them. As they continue to take control, they will also restrict the rights of people, especially women and girls. The increased GDP and education in the country will decrease and will be left in the same condition found by United States troops in 2001. 

     The United States should pull out its troops from Afghanistan but not in the country’s current condition. They should leave when they know that the Taliban is not a risk to Afghanistan and its citizens. As precedent has shown, the Taliban will soon take control over Afghanistan if there are no occupying forces in the country to stop its control. 

      

220. What the US-Liberia Clinical Partnership for Research on Ebola Vaccines (Virus) in Liberia, PREVAIL sought to accomplish, and what Ebola Survivors expected, left them feeling short-changed

     July 23, 2021 2:44 pm 1 Comment

     Talk to any survivor of the Ebola Virus Disease in Liberia, the acronym PREVAIL stands out. As it stands, this was the main institutional support mechanism that showed some interests in the lives of survivors, and the issues that survivors faced when they came out of the Ebola Treatment Units.

     To survivors, PREVAIL was meant to take care of the myriad needs that came with surviving Ebola. It was already a partnership between Liberia and US Government Institutions and sought to understand what the effects of Ebola were for the persons who survived. “The United States is always noted for goodwill,” and in the minds of survivors, as I have been learning, the US partnership would have addressed their needs.

     As things stood, the West African outbreak saw so many more persons survived the disease than anywhere else in the history of Ebola outbreaks around Africa. But the numerous survivors in Liberia presented policy makers with an uncharted territory. There was no blueprint, as Tolbert Nyenswa, the then Incident Manager of the Liberian Outbreak, and former Director General of the National Public Health Institute told me this week.

     

     Tolbert Nyenswa, then Incident Manager of the Liberian Ebola Outbreak (Liberia, 2018)

     “We had no clue as to what we were facing in persons who were surviving Ebola.” Nyenswa continued: “August 2014 was the worst month of the outbreak in Liberia. But when we hit September, and the Ebola message sunk in, and people began turning themselves in early, many people actually started to survive Ebola. We came from a case fatality rate of 90% to about 50%. This was a marked improvement; and after September, and after iterating many treatment strategies and protocols, we settled on early treatment, trace, and isolate contacts. This strategy saw numerous Ebola survivors. But with them came many possibly new challenges.”

     Nyenswa asserts that policymakers knew that survivors were a “special” population who now faced many needs and challenges which could not be left to themselves. It was in this situation that the then Minister of Health Dr Walter Gwenigale, as Tolbert told me, wrote to his US Counterparts at the Department of Health and Human Services, at the time and said that the outbreak in Liberia presented a good opportunity to develop vaccines and therapeutics to solve the treatment puzzle of Ebola.

     Before that time, there had been no known treatment for Ebola. PREVAIL was born in late 2014, and a team of US scientists were dispatched to Liberia to partner with their Liberian counterparts. Their first mission was to test experimental drugs and vaccine candidates. And this process went on, according to Nyenswa, as the outbreak waned and “we hit the end of 2014.” This was PREVAIL One, the first study. The second focus was on clinical trials of investigational drugs for treating Ebola.

     The multiple survivors in Liberia presented another opportunity for research to further study the effects of Ebola on those who recovered. “We knew that recovering Ebola presented many challenges and from the scientific standpoint, decided to investigate what recovering Ebola meant for individuals. This was PREVAIL three, the third focus of the study which involved survivors.”

     Nyenswa continued: “Any person who has believed that PREVAIL was to take care of the needs, rightfully of Ebola survivors, is mistaken.” Even though survivors have genuine needs that should be taken care of, Tolbert clarified that PREVAIL was solely dedicated to the scientific study of the effects of Ebola and its natural evolution in persons who were surviving the virus, and the efficacy of possible therapeutics and vaccines. The Ebola natural history study, which was PREVAIL three, studied the effects of Ebola on survivors and identified many issues and made referrals for treatment for issues that were identified in survivors.”

     But not so fortunately for survivors, Nyenswa tells me, PREVAIL’s mandate was purely scientific, and this is what it accomplished.

     To survivors and their leadership, PREVAIL only used them as a study ground; but gave no attention to the real needs that they had, and for which they voluntarily decided to participate in the PREVAIL studies.

     Mr Anthony Naileh, President of the Survivors Network tells me: “We had many needs and still those needs are unaddressed. At each call for survivors, we were always present in the hope that our government and international partners had realised what the virus had done to us, and they were here to help us service these many needs. But our expectations were always dampened and five years after, PREVAIL ended, with no impact in the lives of survivors.”

     

     Mr Anthony Naileh, President of the National Ebola Survivors Network of Liberia

     To Nyenswa, PREVAIL did accomplish its objectives. He touts the use of experimental drugs and vaccines in the recent Ebola outbreaks in the Democratic Republic of Congo, and the recent Guinea Ebola outbreak earlier this year, where vaccines which, he says, were tried and confirmed in Liberia, were used to extinguish such upsurge as successes of the PREVAIL partnership.

     But to survivors, “they only used us, accomplished their goals, through the different medical procedures and examinations, but we still reel from the crisis and these issues we still grapple with.”

     Nyenswa says to me, “survivors rightly feel neglected. Indeed, they have been neglected by the Government and I hope that the current Government will draw on the strategic plan we developed for survivors to address the needs that survivors have, including child survivors, who rightly need to be educated and supported into adulthood; and children whose parents and benefactors died of Ebola during the outbreak. Their medical needs were anticipated and to be integrated within the primary healthcare system. We did not want to create separate facilities for Ebola survivors. These would have been even more stigmatizing. We developed all of this in a strategic plan.”

     “We envisaged that the Mental Health Department at the Ministry of Health and the Department of Social Protection at the Ministry of Gender, Children and Social Protection would take care of the needs of survivors through an institutionalized mechanism. But the change in Government and apparently the economic difficulties facing the country now mean that survivors, are either lost in the priorities and I can imagine the consequences of abandoning survivors to their own devices.”

     Nyenswa continues that “the needs are still there; it is good that the survivors network is established and functional, they have to direct their advocacy to the right authorities to address these issues, the Ministries of Health and Gender, Children and Social Protection.”

     As he told me, “PREVAIL had a fixed agenda, a scientific analysis of the evolution of Ebola and its effects and finding treatments, and we hope the Government of Liberia would take up the issues facing survivors up till today.”

221. Vietnam’s New COVID Rise and What it Means

     July 22, 2021 8:00 pm Leave a Comment

     Since the beginning of the pandemic, while many other countries with typically much more advanced healthcare systems struggled to contain the Coronavirus, Vietnam defied the odds and became a bastion against the virus. The government implemented everything from contact tracing to strict lockdowns to great success; resulting in Vietnam never reaching over 100 cases a day for over a year while nations such as the United States and Italy reeled against the wave of Coronavirus. For those 13 months, the country and its people enjoyed relative ease and comfort knowing that the virus was contained in their small corner of the world.

      

     

     The course was soon reversed when in June, COVID cases in Vietnam started to spike exponentially. One Vietnamese doctor, Tran Van Phuc, wrote on Facebook that “Vietnam is now officially entering the pandemic,”. His words could not have been more prophetic. Lockdowns entered a new stage and the country was on high alert. What they had avoided for all these months has finally come upon them.

     So what changed? How did this country go from a case study on how to handle a virus to be a new center for its spread? Health officials point to a few reasons. First, since these outbursts of cases are centered around religious gatherings and factory workplaces, officials point to these as the problem. With months of relative safety, it seems the general populace may have eased up a bit. Secondly, health officials also point to the new Delta variant of COVID. This new Delta variant of COVID is much more transmissible than the initial Alpha variant that has been with us since the beginning. This variant has also been leading the rise in new cases and deaths globally, potentially prolonging the pandemic.

     The million-dollar question on everyone’s mind: Will we continually go into lockdown whenever a new variant arises and will we ever get out of this pandemic?

222. Improving Nutrition in Kibera One Kitchen Garden At a Time

     July 20, 2021 4:36 pm 1 Comment

     Worms. Hundreds of wrinkly red worms. I know, at first glance, worms can seem very irrelevant to improving nutrition in Kibera. However, worms are the reason why women in Kibera were able to start harvesting their own vegetables and improve their families’ daily nutrition intake. Before we understand this seemingly strange connection, I want to talk more about nutrition problems and food insecurity in crowded slums like Kibera. 

     Food insecurity is defined as a lack of consistent access to enough food for every person in a household to live an active, healthy life. This issue is most prevalent in urban places, especially in Sub-Saharan Africa where the majority of the urban population is living on less than one dollar a day which forces them to eat only one meal per day. According to an article called “Hunger and Food Security in Nairobi’s slums: An Assessment using IRT Models”, food insecurity among slum dwellers in Nairobi is widespread, with nearly half of all households being categorized as “food-insecure with both adult and child hunger” and only one in five are food-secure. These numbers suggest the severity of the nutrition and food insecurity problems in slums like Kibera. 

     So, where do the worms come into play? It all started when our partner, Stella, in Kibera wanted to solve the issue of nutrition and find a way to take advantage of the food waste. After a quick google search, she says, she found an article on vermiculture composting. Vermiculture composting is different from other types of composting methods as it involves worms. You can store these worms in bins which solves the issue of finding enough space as you can store the bins in your backyard or even your living room. Worms digest the food waste and form a liquid called leachate at the bottom of the three-tiered composting system. Of course, figuring out this system and the process were not as easy as it sounds. Stella and other women who are involved in this project spent months trying to find the system that would give them the best results.

     

     After they have figured out the best way to compost, they were able to use the liquid at the bottom as a fertilizer. The nutrients and beneficial microbes in the worm compost diffuse into the water making liquid fertilizer for the plants. Once they had that fertilizer, they were able to use that in their rooftop and kitchen gardens to harvest more vegetables and plants. At the end of this long process, ladies in Kibera were able to harvest a lot of different types of vegetables from pumpkins to traditional greens. Not only, that helped them to provide their families a more nutritious food but also enabled them to functionalize their food waste. So, beyond improving the food insecurity in Kibera, this project deals with one of the most important problems of our age which is food waste.

     

     Starting this fellowship, I had no idea that I was going to talk so much about worms. Throughout my fellowship, I have grown to appreciate the ingenious ideas and projects of people who are working with the Advocacy Project. I want to dedicate this blog to Stella and her friends in Kibera to celebrate them for what they have done and for more to come! (And of course, the honorable mention goes to the worms!)

223. In Memoriam: Ms. Dolly Oryem

     July 19, 2021 1:04 pm 2 Comments

     Co-written by Emma Okello, administrator at the Gulu Disabled Person’s Union, and Anna Braverman, Peace Fellow at the Advocacy Project. 

     

     On June 29, 2021, Ms. Dolly Oryem, the head teacher of Gulu Primary School, passed away from Covid-19. Her death is a devastating blow to all who knew her. Dolly, in the words of her peers, was a very jolly person and hardworking lady with a lovely family. In charge of Gulu Primary for four years, Dolly transformed the school into a paragon for inclusive education, especially in regards to children with disabilities. She took it upon herself to advocate on behalf of children with disabilities, going out of her way to partner with local organizations that support this population. Under Dolly’s leadership, Gulu Primary participated in Blaze Sports Project, USAID’s Uganda initiative to increase inclusion of children with physical disabilities in sport, and the All Stars Project, which seeks to empower disabled youth through performance theory. Prior to her untimely death, Dolly was planning to build a career in inclusive education. 

     Indeed, her track record in this department is impressive. Always welcoming, approachable, and eager to help, Dolly dedicated herself to improving the lives of children with disabilities. At Gulu Primary, Dolly trained teachers on how to integrate these children in the classroom. She was in constant communication with Emma Okello and Patrick Ojok, AP’s partners at the Gulu Disabled Person’s Union (GDPU), to learn about opportunities to better support this vulnerable population. In May, 2021, Dolly ordered 400 masks for her students from GDPU in conjunction with a disabled tailor named Mama Cave; this order provided the staff at GDPU, and Mama Cave, with crucial economic assistance during an exceptionally challenging time. 

     Tragically, Ms. Dolly Oryem contracted Covid-19 before she had the opportunity to fully realize her leadership potential. Even though Dolly was taking medication for diabetes and eating carefully, she became very ill from Covid at the outset of infection. Initially, she was admitted to Gulu Regional Referral Hospital, but due to the seriousness of her illness, she was later admitted to Lacor Hospital. Despite the best efforts of hospital staff,  Dolly passed away after two weeks. 

     In order to prevent deaths like that of Ms. Dolly Oryem, the Ugandan government needs to increase the speed of its vaccine rollout, and increase its messaging on COVID-19 so that Ugandans are aware of the danger, and take effective countermeasures. Unfortunately, until vaccine patents are waived by the World Trade Organization (WTO), it is difficult to imagine how Uganda will be able to significantly increase its vaccine supply. 

     GDPU and AP send our prayers to the loving family of Ms. Dolly Oryem, and thank them for their dedication to inclusive education. The children at Gulu Primary will continue to reap the benefits of Dolly’s service for years to come. 

     __

     ​​For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal (2 Corinthians 4:17-18).

      

224. School, Art, and Covid 19

     July 17, 2021 11:46 pm 1 Comment

     I clearly remember the last day of normal we had before lockdown. I was on the school tennis team, and we had just gotten back from a match, when we got a message from the school administration, announcing that we would have virtual school.

     It was supposed to be temporary, and everything was supposed to open up again at the end of April. At the time, it seemed like Covid 19 was just a virus that was affecting other people in other parts of the world far away from us, and the lockdown was merely a fun break from school, like a snow day. It got even better when the school district announced that none of the grades from lockdown would count. It seemed we got a relaxing vacation from the stress of our school.

     Eventually, though, the end of April came by and the school stayed closed. The once humorous news stories of people fighting over toilet paper in grocery stores felt stale as the death rates skyrocketed and the world grew grimmer. Since the school work no longer mattered, and all activities were shut down, I lost my motivation to do anything. Days blended into weeks and time lost all meaning. Summer break eventually rolled around, but the official end of my freshman year barely even registered.

     Then, out of the blue, something new started. My art class had been shut down due to lockdown, but my art teacher started offering virtual classes. Virtual classes didn’t feel very enticing at first, but I signed up to strengthen my skills. As the days went on, painting felt fun and enjoyable. Art class became one way I was able to keep track of the days, and it was a chance to actually do something. Making artwork felt rewarding because it actually resulted in a tangible result. I started making artwork outside of art class, and it helped me express myself. It gave me something to do during the summer.

     In August, when school started back, there was a heavy air of fear. We had in-person school, but that just meant that we were in danger of getting covid. There were no major safety policies and places, and every other day, some students would get quarantined for weeks. Students were testing positive, but we had no idea how many of our classmates had Covid, or how safe the school was.

     Amidst all of that uncertainty, my school art class was the only stable place for me. There weren’t many students in the class, so we were far apart and safe. Instead of the stressful classwork, and crowded rooms, we could peacefully work on our paintings for an hour at the end of the day. It was relaxing and made me feel less anxious, during the year.

     Now, Covid 19 is almost over where I live, and things are returning back to normal, but art is still helping me express myself, and deal with stress. It brought me a sense of normalcy, in the midst of a global pandemic, and it continues to help me to this day.

225. Waive Vaccine Patents: The Antidote to COVID-19

     July 16, 2021 11:06 am 1 Comment

     In Uganda, of a population of 46 million people, only 920,000, or 2% of the population, are vaccinated. Compared to the United States, where 60% of the population is fully vaccinated, that is an incredibly small number. Largely as a result of the slow vaccine rollout, in addition to high rates of autoimmune diseases, elevated levels of poverty, and lack of access to adequate healthcare, the pandemic continues to wreak havoc in this East African country as it fades into the rearview mirror of wealthy nations.   

     As of July 12, 2021, Uganda has received 1.04 million COVID-19 vaccine doses from COVAX, a joint initiative by CEPI, Gavi, and WHO to supply third-world countries with voluntarily donated COVID-19 vaccines. Initially, COVAX was sourced in large part by the Serum Institute of India, but in May India halted vaccine exports to combat an extreme rise in cases caused by the Delta variant. COVAX receives its funding from donor governments, multilateral organizations, and prepayments from self-financing countries. These contributions allow 92 low-income countries to receive fully-funded vaccines, including Uganda.

     But, COVAX is not supplying nearly enough vaccines; as of June 2021, COVAX has delivered only 90 million out of a promised 2 billion doses. According to Victoria Nyanjura, an activist for women’s empowerment in northern Uganda, the UN system is to blame for the lack of vaccines. “Can [the UN system] support developing countries and do more to make sure they have enough vaccines? They have failed to respond to [COVID-19].” Indeed, the world’s richest countries have secured enough planned deliveries of approved doses to cover their populations more than 4.5 times over, with only 0.3% of total doses going to low income countries. 

     Unless the proposed waiver of the Trade-Related Aspects of Intellectual Property Rights (TRIPS) is approved by the World Trade Organization (WTO), lower and middle-income countries (LMICs) will be forced to rely on the goodwill of wealthy nations for vaccines, which is in shorter supply than the vaccines themselves. As things currently stand, pharmaceutical companies such as Pfizer possess water-tight patents on their vaccines, meaning that manufacturers in other countries do not have the freedom to produce COVID-19 vaccines and other health technologies without the fear of infringing upon another party’s intellectual property (IP) rights. 

     Despite the fact that all vaccine manufacturers in the global north were publicly-funded, companies such as Moderna are making enormous profits from vaccine sales. The bottom line is that pharmaceutical companies are profiting from LMICs’ inability to produce their own vaccines. In the words of public health activist Achal Prabhala, “the lack of vaccines elsewhere in the world is something that [these manufacturers] have allowed to happen, and will profit from themselves in the future because there will be a market for different variants in the future.”

     So far, the WTO has towed the line between waiving vaccine patents and protecting intellectual property by stressing the importance of voluntary licensing. However, of the 15 COVID-19 vaccine manufacturers worldwide, only Gilead Sciences and Merck have agreed to voluntary licensing agreements — with five generic companies in India and Pakistan in the case of the former, and with five generic companies in India in the case of the latter. Local vaccine manufacturers throughout the entire continent of Africa still do not have the rights to produce COVID-19 vaccines under the voluntary licensing scheme. Clearly, more has to be done.

     The seven governments that currently oppose the TRIPS waiver proposal, including the UK, Australia, Brazil, Japan, Norway, Switzerland, and the EU, must drop their opposition and support the waiver as soon as possible in order to effectively and equitably combat the global pandemic, and save millions of lives. In the face of a global health emergency, the right to health and the right to life trump the right to intellectual property. If TRIPS is not waived, it will continue to be, in the words of World Bank Chief Economist Joseph Stiglitz, “a death warrant for thousands of people in the poorest countries of the world.”

226. How stigma has manifested among Liberian Ebola Survivors, and what the emergence of covid-19 means for them

     July 9, 2021 11:47 am 1 Comment

     Five years after the Ebola crisis in Liberia, and when attention to Ebola survivors began to fade in 2020, covid-19 emerged. The coronavirus crisis has reignited community apprehension against Ebola survivors, and even among Ebola survivors themselves, as Leaders of the National Ebola Survivors Network of Liberia have told me in recent weeks.

     

     Postcard on covid-19 cases during the start of the pandemic (Liberia, 2020; Photocredit: NPHIL, MOH-RL)

     At the start of Liberia’s bout with covid-19 in 2020, myths that were once used to stigmatize survivors were resurrected. Survivors began stigmatizing themselves given their apprehension about another pandemic, covid-19, coincidentally, 5years after Liberia’s Ebola crisis.

     Survivors, as the leaders have indicated to me, believe that the crisis had “come for them.” Others speculated that 2020 was the “apocalypse”-the five years maximum life span predicted for survivors after their EVD experience. 2020 was five years since 2015 when Liberia had her first Ebola Free Declaration.

     While there is no scientific proof or consensus about the maximum lifespan of survivors after recovering from Ebola, survivors have been telling me that the myth that their life span post-Ebola is five years is rife among communities where survivors are known, those places they lived when they encountered the Ebola virus and those places that they relocated to after recovering[1].

     The tag of “five years life span” features prominently among the many stigmatizing experiences that Ebola survivors have faced since their return from the Ebola Treatment Unit. Leaders tell me the tag is used to brush off Ebola survivors as being less than “normal” human beings, with “visible fragilities who would soon disappear;” hence the “normal” will not have to put up with them for a long time.

     As covid-19 broke out, communities speculated in two directions: one, the apocalypse had dawned, and survivors would no longer pose threats to them. It has already been five year and time had come for the “end” of survivors; and two, survivors were possible carriers of, and vulnerable to the coronavirus; reinforcing the stigma, isolation, and scorn that survivors faced during the Ebola crisis.

     Survivors themselves have concerns about covid-19. They face medical complications like memory loss, body pains and battered immune systems. While, I have not read in the relevant literature that survivors have weaker immune systems, we can speculate that, due to the many health issues survivors report being faced with, at present and the effects of Ebola on their general health, Ebola survivors could be classified as people with pre-existing conditions or “vulnerable” immune systems; the kind of people who have had difficult experiences with covid-19.

     While we have not, at yet, learned about an Ebola survivor who has tested positive for covid-19, survivors have anxieties about what the possible effects of contracting covid-19 would mean for them. This anxiety increased among survivors, as the Survivor Network’s Leaders have told me, when covid-19 was reported in Liberia.

     The leaders took to local radio stations, as they said, to dispel the myth that covid-19 had meant the apocalypse for survivors, or that survivors were possible carriers of, or vulnerable to covid-19. The leaders also promoted preventive messages as the National covid-19 Response Team did, encouraging survivors to follow the health protocols to keep themselves and their families safe.

     Due to the memory loss complication that has been reported widely among Ebola survivors, they are sarcastically referred to as people with small brain capacity, measured in “megabytes” rather than “gigabytes.”

     By megabyte, leaders say to me, survivors are described as people whose brain cannot bear the workload of “normal” human beings. “Normal” human beings have brain capacities measured in gigabytes and can bear more load, as the sarcasm goes.

     This sort of stigma has been reported widely among survivors who suffer constant forgetfulness. While memory loss is an issue, as we have learned, to all survivors, those who have spoken to me so far, report that they abnormally forget things since their return from the Ebola Treatment Unit, eliciting the “small brain” stigma.

     Fear of contamination also led to community overreactions against survivors. Survivors have been literally “community untouchables.” They could not transact business or interact in the community. Community merchants refused money from survivors; including persons living in the households of survivors who themselves had not tested positive for the Ebola virus.

     Children of survivors and child survivors were not allowed to play with other children. Young adults, some of whom reported that they were attending high school and colleges faced isolation from their peers. Three of the young adults, all women, I have spoken to so far, dropped out of school and have since not returned; first, for the stigma they faced in the immediate aftermath of the crisis and then, for economic reasons occasioned by the crisis.

     Covid-19 now becomes the enlivening of the threats, real or perceived, that Ebola survivors face. Whether they would survive if they contracted covid-19 in the same way they victoriously overcame Ebola is a lingering concern among survivors. Is covid-19, the predicted apocalypse that would mean the “extermination” of survivors?

     In 2020 and 2021, as the leaders have told me, news about the death of a survivor renews the anxiety among survivors: “Is it really true that we will live for only five years post-Ebola?” Such anxiety will continue to linger as long as the crisis drags on; and the covid-19 test of the resilience of Ebola survivors will come if and when, unfortunately, an Ebola survivor contracts covid-19. An experience, Ebola survivors are not wishing, and for which, as I have observed over the last several weeks, they have been responsive to the covid-19 preventive messaging and measures.

     Self-stigma is an ever-present reality for Ebola survivors, and covid-19 in 2020 and 2021, five years after Ebola, only reinforces that.

     [1] Survivors relocated to other communities because of the pervasive stigma they faced in their communities of origin when they first encountered the Ebola virus infection

227. How a “trade in human kidneys” disinformation campaign during Liberia’s Ebola Crisis meant fatal consequences even for “innocent” people

     July 2, 2021 8:30 am 2 Comments

     Barkedu in Lofa County, northwest Liberia, became an epicentre during the 2014-2016 Ebola crisis at one time. Between 300-500 Liberians lost their lives to the Ebola virus there. Some, due to lack of medical care, neglect or the inadequacy of the care that was available. Still others, due to negligence and myths that pervaded communities as the virus spread.

     This week, I meet an Ebola survivor who today holds a top-level position in the National Ebola Survivors Network of Liberia. Hailing from Lofa County, our guest is a social worker; a feat he has practiced, as he told me since 2006. He at one time became a founding member of a group of Liberian psychosocial counsellors, the Liberia Association of Psychosocial Services, LAPS.

     Our friend tells me today that Ebola survivors face myriad of issues, prominent among which are medical complications, economic and social issues. The same challenges we have encountered on this trail, talking to Ebola survivors as we learn first-hand how the crisis affected individuals and what it meant for those who contracted the Ebola Virus Disease during the outbreak.

     Our friend lived and worked in Voinjama, Lofa County. Lofa is where Liberia’s index case of the Ebola virus disease occurred, after it reportedly spilled over from neighbouring Guinea. It was not the case that spilled over from Guinea that features more prominently in Liberia’s bout with the virus, especially in that part of the country, it was a case that travelled from Sierra Leone to Monrovia, the nation’s Capital and headed to Barkedu, Lofa County, as our friend tells me, that had really fatal consequences for the community, county, and the country.

     Our friend in this interview, and his family were at the center of this outbreak, what became known as the second wave of Ebola virus disease outbreak in Liberia.

     

     Ebola Response Team Members (Liberia, 2014; photo credit: ABC News)

     Our friend narrates: “I lived and worked in Voinjama, at the time, as a social worker and a community mobilizer. I was active during the time of the initial outbreak, and I was in charge of mobilizing community dwellers to identify and isolate suspected cases of Ebola and supporting communities in Voinjama link suspected cases with the Ebola Response Team in Voinjama.”

     “Then I was informed that my brother’s girlfriend who had recently returned from Sierra Leone contracted the virus from there. This girlfriend infected my brother and died. For fear of being taken to the Ebola Treatment Unit in Monrovia, my brother and another relative of ours who also contracted the virus from this girlfriend, travelled to our village, Barkedu in Lofa County, so as to avoid being traced.”

     “My brother and this our female relative arrived in our village and my mother was among several villagers who provided alternative (home) care to these two, sick people. Unfortunately, my brother and the girl died. And all those who came in contact with them and provided care to them also felt sick and started to die one after the other. When I heard that my mother had come in contact with the party, I knew that something was going wrong, so I immediately travelled from Voinjama[1] to Barkedu to get my mother and bring her to the hospital in Voinjama.”

     “At the time as the virus was spreading, so was the myth that the crisis was a ploy by the Government to sell human kidneys to some foreigners who were in the country to purchase kidneys for hefty payments. This myth had spread very widely across Lofa County and in my village. Genuine efforts to save lives were resisted. My mother was also fed with this myth. Howbeit, I convinced her and took her from the village, Barkedu, to Voinjama so she could receive early treatment at the Ebola Treatment Unit (ETU) at the time. She was very uneasy. She had been told that people entering the ETU were not returning alive and that she would not return alive; and that there were people in the ETU who were extracting kidneys, and this is where I had brought her so that her kidneys could be extracted since I had already received payments for her kidneys. My mother believed all this.”

     “When she entered the ETU, I was away for some minutes on an errand to get some materials including feeding utensils for her as the health workers had advised me. Upon returning, I saw my mother running from the ETU and shouting that they were about to extract her kidneys so she could not stay at the ETU. She had tested positive for the virus. The health workers did not restrain her and instructed that nobody touched her. I was surprised at my mother’s reaction. I asked her, is going back to the village what you want? She answered, “Yes.” And away she went on a commercial motorcycle along with another relative.”

     “The motorcyclist that drove my mother to the village died of the virus which he contracted through my mother. The relative who rode with my mother died as well. I returned to the village. My mother reported me to the community and to our family leaders that I had accepted payments from strangers in exchange for her kidneys, and had taken her to the Ebola Treatment Unit in Voinjama so that her kidneys could be extracted.”

     “Such was an abominable offense, and if I were to be guilty of her accusation, my family would banish me for life. The family leaders investigated. They found that I was not guilty; but asked that I apologised to my mother; which I did. My mother was becoming very sick and family members provided care for her. All those that cared for her, could no longer listen to my advice. They no longer trusted me. But I knew they all would die, and they did die, sadly.”

     “I asked a local health worker to teach me how to provide basic care including using intravenous drip and giving injection so that I could care for my mother. I did not want to put this worker at risk. I preferred to care for my mother even at my own peril but not allow another person to suffer for my mother’s own disbelief.”

     I implemented the protocols[2] as advised by the Ebola Response Team. I did not have hand gloves. So, I used plastic bags and chlorine solutions to protect myself and decontaminate each time I interacted with my mother. The home care was not good enough. My mother situation worsened, and she passed off. Our village lost between 300 and 500 persons due to this particular index case who was my brother, through whom my mother and other villagers contracted Ebola. I too contracted the virus through caring for my mother and spent 23 days in the Ebola Treatment Unit. I was discharged on July 25, 2014.”

     [1] Voinjama is the Capital of Lofa County

     [2] During the crisis, health workers advised that those who were caring for EVD suspects at home should use chlorine solutions to decontaminate and plastic shields if they have to touch EVD patients.

228. Share your Spare Vaccines; Don’t let these expire.

     June 28, 2021 12:45 pm Leave a Comment

     The development of vaccines against the COVID-19 pandemic has brought hope among the global population to get back into normal lives. Individuals of economically backward countries like Nepal also had a confidence that they will have equal access to vaccination as like the citizen of big economies/powerful states capable of its production and distribution in this situation of humanitarian crisis. But this anticipation did not work in reality. The Vaccine manufacturing countries remained questionably self-centered while supplying/donating the vaccines that the surplus vaccines expiring within their territory but not been supplied to the needy countries.

     Being in the United States, I got an opportunity for COVID-19 vaccination; I got two shots of Moderna Vaccine very easily and it is available for anybody, anywhere in this country. But the situation in my country is completely different; the new variants of COVID-19 are badly hitting South Asia; India, Nepal, Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka where the rate of vaccination is very low. The new variant of COVID 19 called Delta Variant is found very infectious and lethal. Hospitals and health centers were overloaded with the COVID-19 patients, scarcity of oxygen supplies and other health equipment made the situation worse.

     

     The government of Nepal used the previously used technique of lockdown; preventing movement and gatherings of people by restricting transportation, shutting down the market, and suspension of international and domestic flights. This lockdown was helpful to prevent the transmission of COVID-19 infections but it could not mitigate the consequences brought by COVID-19; poverty and hunger among daily wage labors working in the cities, people are dying of poverty along with the disease.

     The government of Nepal, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka were promised by India the supplies of Vaccines. Nepal received 1 million doses of the AstraZeneca vaccine from India. Nepal, Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka had also made a pre-payment to India for 5 million doses. But the government of India stepped back from this transaction by describing the internal crisis of the country, they will not be exporting the vaccines for the next six months. Almost a million people including my parents got the first dose of AstraZeneca vaccines supplied by India 3 months ago, and are waiting for the second dose which is totally uncertain.

     These countries; allies of India are now helpless regarding vaccination, they either have to wait for the response from India or depend upon the slowly progressing global vaccine sharing COVAX program.  China could be a potential supplier of the vaccines in our region, but South Asian countries like Nepal, Sri Lanka, and Bangladesh are hardly in the priority of China as compared to the other east Asian countries. China is maintaining its courtesy of a good neighbor supplying some Vaccines and some health equipment, but it does not seem to resolve our vaccine deprivation.

     US government under Biden’s administration has promised to supply 80 million doses of vaccines globally by the end of June; 75% through COVAX and 25% for immediate needs and to help with surges around the world. Under this provision, Asian countries will receive 7 million doses out of the first tranche of 25 million doses and approximately 23 million doses in total. This number will hardly benefit 2 billion of the population of this region.

     I had anticipation that the global community would have a single voice and joint/collective effort to combat this Humanitarian crisis through equitable access to vaccination for the people anywhere in the world, I do not have a logical humanitarian explanation behind the reason I was easily vaccinated in the USA, but my parents and my people in my country Nepal still have no clue, when they are getting theirs.  Please be together and share your spare vaccines instead of letting them expired.

229. The Effects of COVID on Uganda and the US’s Poor

     12:34 pm Leave a Comment

     On June 18, President Museveni issued a new 42-day lockdown to combat a recent surge in COVID-19 cases in Uganda. The restrictions severely limit movement on both intra and inter-district travel. Boda bodas, the motorcycles that serve as the country’s taxi service, are no longer allowed to operate. Even private vehicles are banned. As a consequence, the only way for the majority of the population to move around is by bike (essentially limited to men) or on foot.

     Limited transportation has the effect of preventing people from working and, in turn, making money. Consy, one of the women in Victoria’s Gulu-based group Women in Action for Women (WAW) told me that she lost all her money during the first COVID lockdown because she was unable to sell her goods in the marketplace. Now she is forced to stay home yet again with no livelihood prospects. 

     Unfortunately, this is a situation faced by many Ugandans. At the moment, only pharmacies, supermarkets and other stores selling essential goods are allowed to open. Police have been given orders to arrest street vendors and confiscate their goods. There are currently no government plans in place to provide emergency funds to the jobless. However, earlier this month Uganda successfully appealed to the IMF for a billion dollar loan to aid in COVID recovery. But it is unclear exactly how the government plans on spending the money; it has historically lacked transparency around public debt recording, monitoring, and reporting.

     In the face of government ineptitude, Consy is more worried about starvation than contracting COVID-19. 

     In the United States, Black and Hispanic individuals were more likely than their white counterparts to have lost their jobs, because they were working in hard-hit industries like hospitality and construction. As a result, millions of Black and Hispanic households faced difficulty making rent or mortgage payments during the pandemic, and from November 11 to November 23, 2020, adults from 20 percent of Black households and 18 percent of Hispanic households, compared to 9 percent of white households, said their household didn’t have enough food to eat in the prior week. 

     Unlike the Ugandan government, the US government provided expanded unemployment benefits to workers who lost their jobs as a consequence of the pandemic. On March 25, 2020 — just two months after the first COVID case was recorded in the US — the federal government passed the Coronavirus Aid, Relief, and Economic Security (CARES) Act, which provided direct economic assistance to American workers, families, and businesses.

     But was it successful? In its analysis of the CARES Act, the Kennan Institute of Private Enterprise concluded that it did not provide direct assistance to those most affected. Even when the stimulus checks did marginally help, they only constituted a short-term fix rather than a long-term solution to poverty.  

     In both Uganda and the United States, the absence of safety nets for both countries’ poorest means that they will continue to be vulnerable to epidemics as the rest of the world moves on. 

230. Liberia may have been creating its own covid-19 ticking time-bomb; is it exploding now?

     June 25, 2021 12:50 pm 1 Comment

     Liberia, like many of its peers in sub-Saharan Africa may have been spared the worse of the covid-19 pandemic that has ravaged developed western nations in the last year. But as the recent trends in global infections, and infections on the African continent show, no country can brag about pulling it off on the pandemic unless all countries are fully out of its grip.

     Sometime in July 2020, Liberia loosened its covid-19 emergency measures and authorized the Minister of Health to use the Public Health Law to contain the outbreak. The reason? The crisis did not pose a threat to the nation to have warranted a State of Emergency as was previously declared in April 2020. The Legislature concurred then, and measures were relaxed. The Airport was reopened, flights resumed, and life was seemingly on the return to normal since then.

     When I arrived in the country in May 2021, I saw no semblance of a covid-19 sensitive country. Everything was moving smoothly, relaxed masking requirement and some of the handwashing stations at public buildings and offices did not have water. Indoor masking requirements were relaxed in most of the areas I visited.

     What was stunning to me was how the covid-19 taskforce enforced the protocols to contain covid-19 at the Roberts International Airport (RIA). Almost anyone who has travel to Liberia recently will be informed by airlines that there is a “testing upon arrival” regime in Liberia. There is a downloadable mobile app on which each traveller has to register their details and pay the testing fees or commit to pay $50USD upon arrival.

     I had been out of the country for a while and was returning in May. From Washington DC, I had to comply with the testing regulations, by registering my details via the mobile app and committing to pay $50USD upon arrival. On arriving at the airport, the charge per test increased by 50%, to $75USD. Why? I do not know till now.

     Even though I had been fully vaccinated before traveling to Liberia and was hoping that the vaccination would provide me a ticket to enter the country without hassle, the covid-19 task force at the airport remarked firmly, “whether vaccinated or not, whether tested three days ago or not, once you enter Liberia, you must be tested at this airport for $75USD.”  While the testing regime seemed fairly robust, it appeared other motives other than the containment of the covid-19 crisis were the force behind the commitment displayed by the Task Force to combat covid-19 at the Airport. Other Airport workers not directly related to the covid-19 Task Force remarked that the testing regime was “only for the money.” I may agree with them for several reasons.

     First, the task force workers were not observing social distancing. They were all cramped up behind shared desks in a small space measured approximately 12 by 9 feet in the airport arrival terminal. It is in this terminal that all arriving passengers were received and processed to do their covid test. Second, travellers had to queue up in this small space without the requirement or possibility to distance. There were no distancing symbols. Some task force members were themselves not masking up. In essence, they were not observing the guidelines they claimed they were enforcing.

     We were in this long queue, in the arrival terminal. It was extremely hot. It seemed as though the process at the Airport was a super-spreader occasion; a sort of ticking timebomb that would explode with time. Though the workers there professed they were the Government of Liberia’s Task Force to combat covid at this major port of entry, they were in essence only giving licenses to arriving travellers to bring covid-19 into the country, to their homes and families, and to wherever these new arrivals were hosted. Travellers were swapped and without their test results known, were permitted to freely enter the country without any covid prevention advisory or restriction.

     Then it was my turn to be swapped. I went into this small cubicle where I met a guy in white robe who took my particulars and requested that he himself would swap me. Unlike the cotton buds that I had been used to while participating in the Tufts University Regular Covid Testing Regime as a student, the instrument used to collect my nasal swap at the Roberts International Airport was longer, slender, and slightly painful.

     What was astonishing about the testing regime at the Roberts International Airport, was not the experience I have narrated so far, but the fact that results were not known before travellers were allowed into the Country and no one was required to quarantine till their test result was known.

     Details were manually taken from each passenger on arrival; even though these same details were requested when we filled in the information on the mobile app, for those of us who did. When I entered my details on the mobile app, my impression was that the intent was to get rid of crowding at the airport and smoothen the screening process. But to the contrary, we crowded up together and became prone to contracting covid at the Airport in this congested and unventilated space.

     Our swaps were taken; hopefully matched with our details. Till now, my test result, like many of the arriving travellers, is not known since we left the airport on the night of May 14. I was shocked that this has been the routine. A fellow Liberian who resides abroad and visited the country within four months of our arrival, said to us she did not receive her test result when she arrived in the country in January and when she left the country. She was returning for the second time and her test result was still not available.

     On June 17, the Government of Liberia issued revised guidelines in the wake of what they said was a surge of covid-19 cases. And earlier in the week, it was reported in the local media that Liberia was reporting, the highest number of covid-19 cases in the West African sub-region. I personally hope, this would not be true. But if it is, the Government may have been creating their own ticking time-bomb that may now be exploding before our very eyes, by the setup they have at ports of entry, the Roberts International Airport in particular..

     And the vaccine hesitancy is wide spreading in the population as could covid-19 as well. I have had friends come up to me saying, they believe it is the vaccine that is causing the reported surge in covid-19 cases and that if they got vaccinated, they would catch covid. I have had to disabuse my relatives about this myth, and hopefully our household will be vaccinated in the week ahead as the Government increases the number of vaccination centres, as it now struggles to get its act together to contain the new surge, the covid-19 myths, and the vaccine hesitancy.

231. Are we really at the end of the pandemic?

     June 24, 2021 12:47 pm 1 Comment

     With most of the gathering restrictions lifted and the mask mandate removed in the U.S. for the fully vaccinated, we might think that COVID-19 is behind us and we are soon approaching a new normal – the post-pandemic world. But this poses two serious questions. First, can we consider a pandemic over just because it is improving in high-income countries? Second, do we really want to go back to normal without heeding the intense disparities and challenges that have been magnified during the pandemic and continue making the same mistakes?

     We live in a globalized society. Our interdependentness led to the exponential spread of the virus. But when it came to containing it, we think that the countries can do this in isolation of their national borders. However, the virus does not limit itself to these borders and rules we have created. Now that we are over a year into the pandemic, the same rules of national borders are being used by the high-income countries to purchase more than half of the global doses of the vaccine, an example of vaccine nationalism. Furthermore, we are not just interconnected with different countries but also with our planet. We are under the misconception that human beings are supreme creatures. The pandemic came both as a shock and denial to many who do not realize that we are a part of an intricate ecosystem.

     Amidst the many disparities and burdens exposed by the pandemic, forced child marriage is one that for many of us living in the United States, it is a theoretical concept, far from the realities of the society we live in. In addition to the economic challenges during this time, its intersection with the closing of schools, reproductive health services, financial tensions and poverty, and gender-based violence has led to a sharp increase in forced child marriage, particularly for young girls. According to UNICEF, up to 10 million more girls will be at risk of becoming child brides over the next 10 years due to the pandemic. It is high time that girls need to stop being perceived as a financial burden in any economic challenge and rather be empowered to be financially independent. One of the most important ways to do this is to increase their access to education. This includes challenging stereotypes about girl education in the communities, investing in health and sanitation infrastructure in schools, and repeated advocacy for closing gender gaps.

     Till we don’t critically think about the challenges we have faced and the mistakes we have made during COVID-19, not only will we be unable to end the pandemic nor will we be able to live in a normal that is governed by equity, justice, sustainability, and global humanity.

232. Is it Ethical to be Working Abroad?

     June 21, 2021 8:19 am 1 Comment

     Since the beginning of this pandemic, restrictions on freedom of movement were slowly but surely put in place as world leaders grappled with the implications of this virus.  Governments understood that their best weapon against the spread of COVID-19 was glaringly double-edged. On one edge, restrictions on travel and work slowed the spread of the virus, saving many lives and allowing time for healthcare systems around the world to better handle their caseloads. On the other edge, many countries would experience economic turmoil as their workforces would either be converted to work from home or laid off. Thus, with their backs against the walls, most leaders chose to shut their countries down.  Travel restrictions were put in place, companies trimmed their fat to compensate for the upcoming loss in revenue, entire workforces were converted to work from home. 

     Fast forward to now, and the global storm which has plagued humanity for the past year and a half has finally revealed a glimmer of light. Vaccines to fight COVID were finally introduced to the public late last year. Over 2.5 billion doses of vaccines later, we are beginning to see entire regions of the world reaching herd immunity status and countries lifting their travel restrictions. Now more than ever we must now ask ourselves the ethical question that lies ahead. Not when, nor if, but should we travel abroad to work?

     This piece will place the spotlight on those who work abroad and more specifically, our peace fellows in the field. At the Advocacy Project, we place a strong emphasis on our peace fellows. They are the eyes, ears, and hearts that run our projects. However, some projects require peace fellows to be in the field working alongside our partners rather than at home. In doing so, we circle back to the ethical dilemma many international organizations and workers face. Should we be working abroad? To determine our ethical dilemma, I have chosen to solve it using 2 factors. First, as recommended by Jagdish Khubchandani, a professor of public health at New Mexico State University, we should look at how COVID being handled in the region. This makes sense since if we travel to a country where COVID is running rampant and happen to catch it, it would only serve to exacerbate the already overburdened healthcare system. In comparison, if we travel to a country where COVID is more under controlled and happen to contract it still, we may still seek medical attention from a still stable healthcare system. Second, as per CDC guidelines, workers need to be fully vaccinated, no question.  Once we figure out the answer to these questions, then we can determine if workers are ethically absolved of guilt to work abroad. 

     To begin, at the bare minimum for working abroad, the CDC recommends for you to not travel unless fully vaccinated. To be considered fully vaccinated, you are required to allow at least 2 weeks after your second dose of 2-dose vaccines such as Pfizer and Moderna or at least 2 weeks after a single-dose vaccine such as Johnson & Johnson’s. 

     Next, to determine how COVID is being handled in a certain region, we can look towards the CDC travel recommendations map that details which nations are safe to travel to. All nations are ranked from level 1 (least dangerous) to level 4 (most dangerous). At level 1, where COVID is low, the CDC recommends that you be fully vaccinated. At level 2, the COVID threat is moderate. Here, COVID is operating at an increased rate to where unvaccinated travelers are at an increased risk of severe illness. At level 3, the COVID threat is rated high, which the CDC recommends that unvaccinated travelers should avoid all nonessential travel to these destinations. At the last level, travel, in general, should be avoided unless necessary.

     
     CDC Travel Recommendations by Destination 

     
     So are workers ethical in working abroad during these times? If they are vaccinated, as our peace fellows are, then they meet one of the criteria but what about the other? Utilizing our CDC threat level map, we can look at the 3 states where our peace fellows are stationed: Uganda, Liberia, and Senegal. Of those 3, only Uganda is ranked higher than a threat level 1 for COVID; standing at only threat level 2. Both Liberia and Senegal however, are at a threat level 1. Thus, for our fully vaccinated peace fellows working in regions deemed OK for them to work in by the CDC and as long as they are fully compliant with local and CDC guidelines, are ethically conscious in working abroad. 

233. “Liberia may have moved on from EVD; but we never did,” Ebola Virus Disease survivor tells me.

     June 18, 2021 12:48 pm 2 Comments

     In this week’s blog for my AP Fellowship in Monrovia: learning about the lives of Ebola Virus Disease (EVD) survivors five years on, and what lessons their experiences can offer as the world prepares for life after coronavirus, I meet a survivor, an Economics graduate who lost his bank job and has since not secured a stable employment. Thanks for coming along.

     It was late Thursday evening in Monrovia, June 17, I headed out to the field in a faraway community in the Brewerville area of Montserrado County to meet an EVD survivor to discuss what the crisis, five years on, has meant for them.

     I met the person, a male in his forties (even though age is a sensitive issue, I estimate). He was enthusiastic and willing to talk to me. My first question to him was “Is there some person as an Ebola survivor in Liberia or have survivors moved on?”

     He narrated, survivors have not moved on. “We face a myriad of issues including health complications, economic and social issues.” Common health issues include low vision, blindness, eye swinging, depression and other mental health disorders. Our friend whose name and exact location we are withholding for fear of stigmatization, confirms that his personal health complication is sudden eye-swinging.

     Eye swinging is a feeling like low pressure which causes a sudden loss of balance that may cause a person to fall suddenly. Even though our friend tells us that he has been able to cope with the condition, life has been challenging for other survivors who have reported even worse complications. For instance, there are reports of male survivors who have become sterile, and women survivors who do not conceive or if they do conceive, experience sudden and persistent miscarriages.

     In the aftermath of the EVD crisis or as the crisis waned, Liberia and US partners established the Partnership for Research on Ebola Vaccines in Liberia. Survivors are pretty much familiar with the acronym PREVAIL. The objective of the study was, among others, to learn about the effects of the Ebola Virus Disease on survivors, bring the issues identified to the Government and the scientific community, and create an avenue for continued support to survivors to help them navigate life after the bout with Ebola.

     Our friend in this meeting tells me that they appreciate the uncovering of the myriad of issues identified during their participation in the study, and the avenues that were created for survivors to continuously receive medical support.

     Several other partners have since been engaged with survivors in a variety of ways. WHO and the John Snow Inc are prominent. But survivors, as our friend tells me, feel that the Government of Liberia has neglected them. This neglect, our friend tells me, has had catastrophic consequences for them. There were survivors, he tells me, who experienced low vision or short-sightedness, whose conditions required continuous management.

     But as the study ended and attention gradually shifted away, such survivors perpetually lost their vision. Today they have gone blind. Survivors, believe, that there have been great international goodwill to their cause and concerns, but their greatest disappointment is the lack of attention they have received from the Government. This is why, he tells me, that network solidarity is so strong; because only within their group they can find some kind of support.

     Our friend narrated his personal stigmatizing experience when he contracted Ebola. He was a risk officer at  a local bank in Monrovia. His sister was a nurse working at a health facility in one of the suburbs of Monrovia, Banjor. This community, at one point in the crisis became a hotspot. The sister contracted the Ebola virus and made endless calls to the call center, at the time, for an ambulance to be dispatched to her location so that she could be taken to the Ebola Treatment Unit (ETU). Frustrated, she turned to her brother, our friend in this interview, who asked his chauffeur to drive his sister to the ETU.

     Though, he tells me, that his vehicle was disinfected and left untouched for days, he would contract the virus through contact with this vehicle. Days later, he fell ill and informed his work place, the local bank. This was the end of his service with the bank. Upon recovery, our friend, went back to the bank to resume his regular activities because he had received no termination notice. He tells me that he was prevented from entering the bank and since then, his service ended. He tells me his story is symptomatic of experiences several hundreds of EVD survivors had with their work places, have not been recalled and continue to live the misery. His sister survived.

     Our friend lost his relationship with his girlfriend because of his bout with Ebola and his two year old kid who contracted the virus through contact with him. He now has a new girlfriend whom he has not yet told that he is a survivor; and has concerns that she may be anxious any time she learns that he is a survivor. Again, his experience is symptomatic of the wider social relations issues facing survivors in Liberian communities.

     He, at one point, had to leave Monrovia and travel to his home county Gbarpolu because the stigma, during and in the immediate aftermath of the EVD crisis was high. Even though he reports now that stigma against survivors has waned; but news about pandemics and infectious outbreaks like covid-19 or EVD resurgence, usually enliven their  EVD experiences and resurrects negative community reactions and suspicions against them.

234. From one Outbreak to Another: What Should We Expect From a Post-Pandemic World?

     9:42 am 3 Comments

     With the COVID-19 pandemic coming to an end in the Western world, people are wondering how things will change. As the stores and restaurants are opening up and the people are getting vaccinated, questions about mask-wearing and social distancing have been increasing. This “new normal” is also raising another question: what should we expect from a post-pandemic world? Well, in order to answer this question and shed a light on the problems of the forgotten parts of the world, we can go back to the year 2014, the year that the biggest EVD outbreak, otherwise known as Ebola, has started.

     During the 2014 epidemic, the countries that experienced widespread transmission were Guinea, Sierra Leone, and Libera. Even though the U.S. had some cases, it was strictly controlled, preventing a worldwide pandemic. However, the countries which fully experienced the effects of Ebola have been still recovering. When we are talking about moving on from the COVID-19, there are people in West Africa that still can’t move on from Ebola. Even though talking about an outbreak that has ended over five years ago may sound irrelevant especially when there is an ongoing pandemic, the countries that dealt with Ebola show us an example of a post-pandemic world that we are about to experience. It’s also important to remember that African countries are still experiencing a risk of an Ebola outbreak with the most recent outbreak that has lasted from February 7 to May 3 in the Democratic Republic of Congo. So, Ebola is still an important issue that needs to be addressed.

     While Ebola had over 28 thousand cases around the world, it also had more than 11 thousand deaths. The majority of these deaths were from West Africa, and the highest number of deaths have occurred in Liberia: 4 thousand deaths out of 11 thousand were from Liberia. Even though these numbers look way smaller compared to the COVID-19 pandemic, we have to understand the importance of such a high death rate especially for the people in Africa who did not have access to hospitals or proper medical care. A lot of people who had the symptoms were turned down from the local hospitals because of the combination of the high demand of patients and the low capacity of hospitals. During this process, a lot of people experienced horrible deaths. People who were able to survive were not that lucky either since they had to go to an isolation camp and left their families, and most of them lost family members to Ebola. Unfortunately, this painful experience didn’t end there.  

     

     Because of the traumatic experience of Ebola both for the survivors and the people who witnessed it, even after the outbreak ended, the fear of getting Ebola or being around someone who has had Ebola still continued. This resulted in disease-related stigma towards Ebola survivors. Many were excluded from their communities and were denied employment. In fact, one of the studies shows that 27.2% of Ebola Survivors in Liberia reported experiencing facility-based stigma. In addition to facility-based stigma, other types of enacted stigma included social isolation, verbal abuse, and fear of contagion. Social isolation, verbal abuse, and fear of contagion lead to increased levels of psychological distress, delayed access to medical care, low adherence to medical therapy, and reduced quality of life. 

     On the other hand, Several studies show that the stigma that Ebola survivors are experiencing is not only external. EVD survivors report high levels of internalized stigma since discharge from an Ebola treatment center. The higher frequency of internalized stigma (negative self-perception) among EVD survivors can lead to low self-esteem, low self-efficacy, loss of hope for the future and can interfere with life goal achievement. For example, 20.2% of Ebola survivors in Liberia reported experiencing depression, and 9.9% of them reported experiencing anxiety. These numbers were reported 5 years after the outbreak has ended. 

     So, what do these numbers tell us? More importantly, why should we care about them? Well, if we don’t pay attention to these numbers and survivors, the same thing might happen with COVID-19 survivors as well especially in the areas where people do not have access to accurate information about diseases. It’s our responsibility to recognize these stigmas, raise awareness and listen to people’s stories. We can’t move on from COVID-19 if there are still people around the world trying to move on from Ebola. If we want to deal with the post-pandemic world in the best way possible, we should pay attention to the regions and the stories of the people that have already experienced a post-pandemic world from another disease. 

      

235. Finding My Place in the World

     June 17, 2021 1:00 pm 3 Comments

     I think that many of us, as Summer Fellows of the Advocacy Project, and as 1^st generation Americans or immigrants, can relate to not always feeling like they know where they belong or which culture to adhere to.  I am a first generation Cape Verdean-American. My family is from Cabo Verde Islands, an archipelago off the coast of Africa.  Many Americans have never heard of Cabo Verde and think I am referring to Cambodia or an island in the Caribbean.

     Cabo Verde was colonized by the Portuguese and gained their independence on July 5, 1975.  My dad saw my mom for the first time at the parade celebrating independence.  They would find each other again years later and this time they would get married and my dad would bring my mom to the United States and start our family.  I had a magical childhood.  I took my first plane ride before I turned 1 and I got to travel to Cabo Verde or Portugal almost every summer to see my extended family.

     As a child, I never thought of my differences from the other kids but as I grew, I started noticing the differences in things as small as throwing my gum out the window.  In the US, littering is more common than anything else while in Portugal and most other European nations, they have different trash cans and recycling bins in very accessible areas because it is every citizen’s job to keep the environment clean and beautiful.

     Education is valued greatly in Cabo Verde and the diaspora is so wide-spread because people leave to learn and to explore careers in other places.  My studies were always very important to my parents-I didn’t know that college was an option until I was in high school (never an option for me, but for others).

     In Cabo Verde, there is also a huge part of the culture that tells us to sweep men’s wrongdoing under the rug.  I am not someone who can do that and I have gotten in trouble with my family a few times now for calling people out when they do something wrong.  Sometimes I feel like the black sheep or like I was put into the wrong family.  Other times, especially after seeing and reading some of the stories of the people and communities we are advocating for, I know that I was put in this family to stop people from getting away with unspeakable atrocities and protect the women in my family when I can. 

     I am glad to be part of the Advocacy Project so that I can advocate for and protect others on a larger scale, specifically African women.

     To be a global citizen means to take the good parts of all the places we have been and learn from the not-so-good parts and try to leave the world a little better than we found it. I am hoping to do that with the lessons I have learned from my family and through working with international organizations to become a better person and advocate.  I want to change the world and I know that it starts at home with my family.

     Although I vacillate between being an American, a Cape Verdean, and a child of the world, I know that I am in the right place right now and I am doing the best I can.

      

     Miriam Correia

236. My Forced Marriage

     June 15, 2021 4:39 pm 1 Comment

     Disclaimer: This is my experience and is independent of the “norms” in Kurdistan. This experience is not common in my region or among the Kurdish people. Also, my religion (Islam) was not a motivating factor for this experience. Rather, Islam strictly forbids forced marriages. 

     On August 15th, 2019, I was entered into a forced marriage through manipulation and coercion in a country that was foreign to me. Unknown to me, this was all planned months before I arrived in Kurdistan, Iraq. I had been told that it was dire that I visit my sick grandmother in Kurdistan, which is why I left. Of course, I found it strange knowing that my college would resume in just two and half weeks, but I went anyway because growing up in my culture, I was taught to trust my relatives and family members no matter the circumstance. Kurdish people see opposing your parents as not only disrespectful, but it could also be grounds for disownment by your family and community. Knowing this, I followed along.

     When I arrived in Kurdistan, I was immediately dropped off at a 30-year-old man’s house. He was a stranger to me. I was confused as to why I was going to stay with him until he told me to go on a walk where he explained that he wanted to marry me, and if it weren’t him, it would have been someone else in Kurdistan.

     I refused the proposal, but as the weeks went by, I realized that I really didn’t have a choice. My parents and relatives in Kurdistan had made a pact to get me married before leaving Kurdistan. I wasn’t allowed to meet with my “liberal” friends for an extended period of time. My family knew that they were the only ones who would help me out of this detrimental situation.

     Though not common, my friends and I had seen other girls in similar situations who weren’t allowed to go back home if they didn’t agree or, even worse, beaten to death if they risked ruining their families’ reputations. I knew that if my family went as far as to lie to me about why I needed to come to Kurdistan, they would not hold back from taking my passport.

     I needed a way out, so I decided to agree to an engagement, but not a marriage. I planned to agree to the engagement until I came back to the States, where I had the help of my friends, mentors, and professors to break free from the situation. I was lied to again and taken to a courthouse. At the time I did not know this was a courthouse. As a teenager with no knowledge about marriage in the Middle East or how to read Arabic, I could not comprehend what was happening at the courthouse.

     Once I got back to Minnesota, I found out that I had been married against my will. I refused to accept that I was married and what my family had done to me. I sought out a divorce, which was granted to me two months ago.

     Even though what was done to me was heart-rending, I chose to forgive my family. I decided to forgive them for myself and my religion which allowed me to find the peace I needed to move on. I needed to close this chapter of my life knowing I would not be given the apology I wanted and needed at the time. In my family’s defense, they were afraid that I would be left alone to care for my five younger siblings if they were to pass away since I am the oldest child in my family. This peace I found in forgiving helped shape me into the Kurdish American Muslim woman I am today and pushed me to pursue a career in international human rights law.

     I wanted to share my very traumatic story not to be pitied but to raise awareness about forced marriage and the many struggles and sacrifices women and young girls in particular circumstances and cultures make every day. I want other women and young girls who have gone through similar experiences to know that they are not alone and are supported by many like myself.

     Avyan Mejdeen

237. Conservation or Colonialism?

     June 9, 2021 3:29 pm 1 Comment

     Lately, I have been compiling case studies on indigenous resiliency efforts against resource scarcity in collaboration with Children Peace Initiative-Kenya. Throughout this process, I am noticing my perceptions on development continue to be challenged and transformed. Underlying these transformations is the acknowledgement that many development interventions continue to suppress indigenous voices and exacerbate inequalities.

     A large factor fueling resource scarcity is climate change. In the face of increasing scarcity, communities who derive their livelihoods from the land are forced to compete for dwindling resources. This can create tensions that lead to conflict. To alleviate the negative effects climate change has on the environment while attempting to reduce resource related crimes, international interventions have championed conservation efforts.

     While initially, the environmentalist in me let out a little cheer, this changed upon discussing specific internationally backed efforts such as the Northern Rangelands Trust with our partners at CPIK. I went into our meeting with high regard for conservancies. Claims of community consent, diverse response teams, land preservation, and the protection of animals made me feel excited about their model. Sure, the fact that they were armed to the teeth raised some legitimate concerns for me, but the result was protecting the community’s resources, right?

     Wrong! Unfortunately, the sparkling claims of community consent tends to blind one to the counterproductive measures often associated with these types of conservation efforts. For starters, conservancies such as the Northern Rangelands Trust, the Lewa Wildlife Conservancy, and many others have historic ties to colonial presences. Specifically, large portions of Kenyan land have been restricted as Protected Areas, with much of it held privately by the descendants of colonists.

     With international funding and northern ecotourism, conservancies generate large amounts of money while excluding most of the local citizens from the benefits of their own land. In effect, much of these “community-based conservancies” operate as a cover for land grabbing. This widens the inequalities faced by pastoralist communities and exacerbates the resource scarcity that threatens food security, economic livelihoods, and peace.

     This brings us back to the age-old tale of international development in the global south. Despite the historic mutual relationship pastoralist communities maintain with the land, the international community promotes exclusionary practices to “save” them from problems industrialized nations largely created. It is not pastoralist communities who have fueled climate change, excessive rates of consumption, and destructive agricultural practices. Yet, pastoralism as a livelihood is being painted as incompatible with environmental sustainability.

     The reality is that true conservation is rooted in upholding the indigenous practices which view sustainability as the foundation of life as opposed to just a cool buzzword that attracts donors. This requires true community consultation, advancing the rights of pastoralists, and building upon their generational knowledge to create resiliency systems in the face of climate change. Until this occurs, the only thing being conserved is a colonialist savior complex.

238. The Student Loan Crisis

     April 12, 2021 1:46 pm 2 Comments

     I recently graduated from the University of California, San Diego with a bachelor’s degree in Political Science. Besides a diploma, I will also be leaving UCSD with about $67,000 in student loan debt. That is not including interest. 

     Tuition and housing for a single year at UCSD cost about $30,000, conservatively. I attended community college for 2 years and lived at home in order to save money. Sadly, I do not qualify for financial aid and my parents are unable to pay for my collegiate education, meaning I had to find a way to fund my education. The loans I took out are from private banks, not the federal government which means two things: 1) I have a significantly higher interest rate, and 2) in the current Biden plan, my student loan debt would not be canceled. 

     Unfortunately, I am not an anomaly in the United States. The U.S. student debt has hit $1.67 trillion at the start of 2020 and will only increase. 

     The diagnosis of how student loans became classified as a crisis leads directly to the Great Recession. Most states during the recession made massive spending cuts to public universities, which in return caused the universities to raise tuition. Today, tuition continues to rise and state funding has not returned to its pre-recession numbers. 

     President Joe Biden campaigned on the promise of “canceling student debt”, however, he has no clear plans in place to cancel debt on a large scale. Biden has made statements calling on Congress to pass legislation and that he would be happy to sign legislation that offered relief. 

     I am in favor of any student loan cancelation but unless you address the source of the problem, no matter the amount you “forgive”, it won’t protect future freshmen from having to take out student loans to fund their schooling. 

     The obvious answer to the student loan crisis is: legislators need to return funding to public universities to its pre-recession numbers and adjust it for inflation. A step in the right direction would be to increase funding for community colleges and increase the number of grants from the federal government such as Pell Grants. However, this also needs to go hand and hand with universities lowering tuition prices. 

     Unfortunately, this seems like a lofty goal. With an increasingly polarized Congress, actually impactful legislation seems out of reach. Highlighting this struggle is a Twitter profile aptly named “Has Joe Biden Canceled Student Debt Yet?” where every day since the inauguration of President Biden they tweet out the simple word “no.” Today, similar to the day before, they tweeted out the word “no.” 

239. Corporate Social Responsibility and State Laws

     April 10, 2021 9:45 am Leave a Comment

     Just the other week, we saw the news that Major League Baseball (MLB) would be moving its All-Star game out of Atlanta due to the state of Georgia’s new voter suppression laws. These laws, passed just the other month, severely limit access to the ballot box and do not advance our democracy. 

      

     As a result of these new laws, MLB decided to take a public stand by moving a prominent game that they hold every year. Other companies have made similar actions in relation to different incidents across the nation.

      

     These actions raise good questions about how companies engage in corporate social responsibility when it relates to state law. 

      

     LEVICK, a public relations and crisis communications firm, put out an article detailing how companies can carefully and appropriately engage in these actions. Among their list included being genuine, engaging with intention, and not being performative about your actions. 

      

     In other words, companies can and should engage in these types of actions but should not do so simply to raise their bottom line and profit margins. They should do so because it matters to the values of their company and then they should make a commitment to better the community around them given their social and financial power. 

      

     We’ve seen companies become more and more engaged with social issues and laws that arise, specifically within their headquartered state. This is nothing new to this year or last, yet with more access to spread ideas with the growth of the internet and social media platforms, companies have more power with their words than ever before.

      

     It is critical that companies play a part in expressing their discontent with laws and policies that suppress citizens and use their online presence and power to spread awareness and spearhead action. 

      

     The MLB moving a prominent baseball game out of Atlanta not only makes a statement but also makes a financial impact on the state. The MLB cannot let this be their one action and let it become performative. Instead, they need to use this as a starting point for enhanced voter education, access, and engagement efforts. 

      

     Companies should engage in long-term corporate social responsibility and make actionable and meaningful statements, not just one-time performative actions. More companies should follow the MLB and do more to support those in our communities that need us the most. 

240. Being Asian in America

     April 7, 2021 8:29 am Leave a Comment

     Being Asian in America means being a perpetual foreigner. It is a constant struggle to try to seem American to America while attempting to hold onto our roots. This is our unique status in this country. To be seen as both a foreigner and a model minority. To be both exotic and cool with our martial arts and great food while also a group of people for America to pick on. And this is what I would like to touch on. The casual racism that we Asians as a whole go through. 

     The casual racism against Asians both in the media and in real life is a sad reality that many of us have to face. Chink, gook, and “Go back to China” are all very common things most of us have grown up hearing. I can personally attest that when my family escaped Vietnam to Arizona in the 90s that they faced massive amounts of racism at school. Being mocked for how they looked, their accents, and how they dressed were par for the course. I guarantee you if a German kid came over to rural Arizona in the 90s only eating bratwurst, with a thick accent, and wearing lederhosen that most wouldn’t even bat an eye compared to if they saw a Vietnamese kid eating rice, with a thick accent, and wearing clothes from the local Goodwill. 

     Even in the media, casual racism is just as prevalent. How many times is the Asian character going to be the nerdy loser sidekick? How many times is the Asian character going to be a math genius pushed by their tiger parents to go to an Ivy League? How many times is the Asian character going to be a white guy slightly squinting his eyes and talking in the thickest and most stereotypical accent possible? Probably the most recent example of a stereotyped Asian character in media would be Raj Koothrappali played by Kunal Nayyar on The Big Bang Theory. There, Raj is a typical Asian stereotype of the nerdy figure who struggles more talking to women than he does with calculus. 

     The rare times that American audiences are not introduced to a stereotypical Asian character would be when foreign films like Parasite by Korean director Bong Joon-Ho won an Academy Award for Best Picture amongst many other well-deserved accolades. America was both equally enthralled and surprised that some “Asian film” could win such a prestigious award often reserved for American films. Some people around me have even claimed that this was an example of America not racist towards Asians. Then, everything changed when COVID-19 attacked. In a flash, Asians globally and in the US went from a hard-working and intelligent group of people able to produce such great films as Parasite to being perceived as parasites ourselves.

     Even when there are issues regarding racism, Asians always get left behind. Like when there was discussion around how the Oscars usually nominated and awards predominantly white casts; thus citing the #OscarsSowhite movement in 2016. Then, when it came time for the Oscars and for Chris Rock to give his monologue addressing the racial issues of Hollywood, what does he do? He brings in 3 Asian kids as a prop to crack a joke at their expense while also arguing against the racism inherent in Hollywood. To us, that was simply disrespectful, unnecessary, but not unexpected. 

     Overall, there are a lot of difficulties that we face in America while being Asian. At our schools, workplaces, and communities, we are attacked and have slurs hurled at us with little consequence of offenders. In the media, we are stereotyped and type cast while still being relegated mainly for the sideline. I fear that with the COVID virus further creating tension against Asians in the US, that how we are perceived and treated will get worse. In the end, all I can wish for is an America that doesn’t look at people like me as a perpetual foreigner.

241. The Right Hates Cancel Culture… Until It Benefits Them

     March 29, 2021 7:08 pm Leave a Comment

     Earlier last week, rapper Lil Nas X released a music video for his song “Montero (Call Me By Your Name)” that portrayed Satan in a sexual manner. In addition to the satanic-themed music video, Nas has teamed up with Nike to develop the Nike Air Max “Satan Shoes,” which were sold out in less than 5 minutes.

      

     The music video was hit by angry conservatives like Candace Owens and South Dakota Governor Kristin Noem.

      

     “Our kids are being told that this kind of product is, not only okay, it’s ‘exclusive,’” says Governor Kristi Noem via Twitter. “We are in a fight for the soul of our nation. We need to fight hard…We have to win.”

      

     Conservative commentator Candace Owens ranted on Twitter by indirectly speaking to Nas. “We are promoting Satan shoes to wear on our feet…But we’re convinces it’s white supremacy that’s keeping black America behind. How stupid can we be?”

      

     Cancel culture, according to dictionary.com, is the act of “withdrawing support for public figures and companies after they have done or said something considered offensive.” On social media and in pop culture, most individuals who have been victims of cancel culture were conservative public figures, including former president Donald Trump, who has been consistently called out for his offensive behavior. This has led for conservative public figures to denounce the efforts of consumers of media to “cancel” individuals who have made inappropriate decisions.

      

     In early March, Dr. Seuss Enterprises announced they will halt publications of six books written by Dr. Seuss. The decision came from the company’s concern that the books “portray people in ways that are hurtful and wrong.” The announcement raised an uproar by republicans, causing political leaders like Representative Jim Jordan of Ohio to call for hearings on “cancel culture.” While the decision was made by the company, the right placed sole blame on the left, claiming that cancel culture has gone too far.

      

     

     Pictured above is Kevin McCarthy (R-CA) defending Green Eggs & Ham.

      

     Senator Marco Rubio of Florida says this decision is “an example of a depraved sociopolitical purge driven by hysteria and lunacy.”

      

     The reaction towards Lil Nas X’s music video and the Dr. Seuss controversy shows the hypocrisy of the right. Is their outrage towards a creative decision that they deemed “offensive” not considered the cancel culture they claimed has “gone too far?” It is no coincidence that the dramatic rage occurred during Democratic efforts to pass a third round of stimulus checks to the American public. The $1.9 trillion dollar COVID relief package would polish Biden’s image, which would block Republicans from convincing Americans that the president is performing poorly. That’s when they restore to cancel culture, the form of ostracism that the right claims to be “an end of freedom in America.”

      

     Yes, the left has a cancel culture problem. They use the tactic to dig out any dirty secrets on their enemies in an attempt to get the public to flip on them. (To some extent, it has worked). Some liberals even argue that cancel culture does not exist and is merely a form of holding public figures and officials accountable. However, conservatives have stated clearly that the practice of cancelling public figures is wrong but continue to use the tactic in order to distract the public of more important issues. In the middle of a pandemic, the republican party has made an outcry over children’s books instead of focusing on reaching across the aisle to provide aid to working Americans.

      

242. The Gamification of March

     March 22, 2021 9:52 am Leave a Comment

     March, the maddest month of the year, and I’m not just talking about the weather. March Madness, NCAA’s annual national championship tournament for collegiate basketball, brings together sports-minded and casual viewers across the country to enjoy the tournament. Yet, what is interesting about this tournament above all others is the way it gamified its own tournament to engage more viewers. Individuals create brackets and join friendly bets to see how accurate their predictions are of each game played. 

     Gamification is nothing new in our society, yet it has taken a bigger turn in the past few years. With phone applications and other fundraisers using games as a means to get higher usage or higher donations, gamification works because it involves more people in the end goal.

     We have also seen other industries piggyback off of the theme of March Madness brackets for their own topics. There are fundraising competition brackets between university newspapers and brackets for best Disney movies. March has become a promotional month and a marketing frenzy. So why don’t we see it in development?

     Now, I’m not saying we should turn something as important as international development into games–that wouldn’t sit right with me or most people. However, with the pandemic, we have found that more people can be involved in development in an online environment or platform. Virtual international development may be more easily accessible, or at least more prominent, now than ever before. 

     Smaller projects, like the ones the Advocacy Project engages with, can utilize March as a way to reach donors and supporters in the United States. Additionally, we can find ways to engage more supporters in the United States through online events that piggyback off of the promotional month similar to other industries within the country.

     There is a line that should not be crossed, however. International development works with real issues and real people, so creating a game out of it is not appropriate in my eyes. Yet, finding ways to utilize and piggyback off of existing promotional opportunities will be beneficial for small-scale projects to engage overseas, primarily in the United States, supporters. 

     March is madness, so let’s utilize it to support good causes.

243. The Plastic Potato

     March 18, 2021 1:00 pm 1 Comment

     In a turn of events shocking to absolutely no one, the Republican party’s new hyper fixation has shifted not to Covid-19 relief, but to a toy potato. In conjunction with this, public discourse is once again flooded with a debate regarding gender, and furthermore, ones’ right to self-expression.

     The World Health Organization defines gender as characteristics of women and men that are largely socially created and goes on to define sex as biologically predetermined characteristics. The two terms are not interchangeable from a scientific standpoint.

     Not only is it blatantly scientifically inaccurate to insist one should confine the way they express themselves to a binary, but it also erodes progress regarding human rights and development.

     Often, men who choose to express themselves through stereotypically feminine means (whether hobbies, clothing, grooming, etc.) are ostracized and perceived as lesser than. This demonization of femininity is more deeply rooted in the oppression of women in general. The outdated expectations inflicted on both men and women reflect the also-outdated perception that femininity is weak and emotional, while masculinity is rugged and logical.

     While realistically it is bizarre to associate genitalia with interests and expression, it also upholds the notion that decency is achieved through little more than appearance. What lesson do we teach children when how they look or what they enjoy is a point of emphasis as opposed to characteristics we all would deem desirable such as reliability, empathy, honesty, and justness?

     What damage do we cause young men when emotions are to be suppressed, and creativity is to be stifled? What limitations do we put on young women when their strength and intellectuality are regarded as off-putting? Does appearance and strict expectations mean so much that we are willing to confine human beings into binaries based on anatomy instead of allowing them to celebrate their individuality?

     Public discourse may be centered on how a toy potato chooses to represent itself, but the infatuation is rooted in gender, where the principles run far deeper. Self-expression and determination are human rights to be respected and upheld. While the violation of these rights does not crush bone or infrastructure, it certainly crushes the human spirit.

     If the United States is to be a leader in international development, our officials must recognize that humanity is rooted in individual choice and relies on basic freedoms to pursue those choices accordingly. Our work in human development requires us to rejoice in our similarities and revel in our differences, including gender expression. So, while we pursue at rapid pace the ever-growing height of human potential, may we also celebrate every bit of ourselves along the way.

244. WAP for the WIN

     March 11, 2021 8:57 am Leave a Comment

     I couldn’t be more excited about the progress that the Women’s Advocacy Project (WAP) has made with their two new groups! They have developed a system of soap making that is both effective and efficient. The opportunities that WAP are providing for their participants inspires me, and sometime’s its a pleasant surprise. As a fellow for the WAP project in Zimbabwe, I want to garner awareness in the US for the problems that they face in their society. Mainly, child marriage. An article published by the advocacy group, Equality Now, details the reality of child marriage in this country.

     Child marriage is defined as the marriage of a couple that is below the age of 18. This is actually legal in 46 states, and approximately 248,000 children were married between 2000 and 2015. 80% were married to adults.

     It’s important to remember that child marriage happens across countries, cultures, and religion. Zimbabwe may be thousands of miles away but the problems that the Women’s Advocacy Project has been addressing is a lot closer than you might think.

245. Challenges faced by Albinos in the Great Lakes

     February 28, 2021 10:50 pm Leave a Comment

     In this 2-part piece, we will discuss the treatment of albinos in the Great Lakes region of Africa; specifically, Kenya, Tanzania, and Malawi, and why they are treated this way. In this first piece, we set the stage for the current situation on the ground. 

     The Great Lakes region of Africa is situated along the eastern coast below the Horn of Africa and extends as far south as Zambia and as far west as the Democratic Republic of the Congo. For simplicity’s sake, we will discuss 3 main countries: Kenya, Tanzania, and Malawi

     Overall in the East Africa region, Kenya is relatively safe for people with albinism. This is especially true compared to its southern neighbor, Tanzania. Based on a fairly unreliable estimate on the number of Kenyans with albinism from the National Council on Disabilities, the most commonly published number is 3,000 (“Kenya”, n.d). The United Nations also cites that although Kenya is a relatively safe place for albinos, there can still be more to improve the situation such as the expansion of healthcare-related to albino health problems. The last reported attack on a Kenyan albino was in 2015 near the Kenyan-Tanzanian border. 

     Tanzania reports 6977 officially documented albinos in their country but the Albino Association of Tanzania believes that it could be as high as 170,000 (Engstrand-Neacsu and Wynter, 2009). The most dangerous regions for albinos in Tanzania are Shinyanga and Mwanza (“Man ‘tried to sell’, 2008). Overall, NGOs such as Action on Albinism report Tanzania as having 188 reported attacks on albinos with the most recent attack reported being on May 1st, 2019 (n.d).

     Around 2015, Tanzania began enacting reforms to curb violence towards albinos. However, their neighbor Malawi instead saw “a steep rise in killings of albinos with 18 reported killings since November 2014” (“Albino people are being hunted”, 2018). A 2014 report by Amnesty International speculates that the number of albinos murdered is much higher than their reported 18 deaths due to the unwillingness of rural regions to report crimes. In addition to this, albino graves are constantly being raided and in 2017, police have found at least 39 cases of illegal removals of albino bodies/limbs from their graves (“The ritual murders of people”, n.d).

246. Vaccine Distribution Highlights Inequalities of the Pandemic

     February 9, 2021 11:49 am Leave a Comment

     The COVID-19 pandemic has drastically changed our everyday lives. To the way we socialize to the way we work, the pandemic has shown just how flawed our government systems are around the world. Low income students are less likely to have access to high speed internet or other technology, which is crucial to succeeding during the era of Zoom learning. Families, whose jobs are no longer available, are left uninsured when a disease is ravishing communities.

     As a second year college student at the University of Illinois, the transition has been difficult. Not being able to engage with your peers or professors in person has made learning more challenging. However, I am lucky my university is able to provide the resources needed to succeed, such as programs to borrow computers. Because these resources are limited in underdeveloped countries, students are resulting to in person instruction, which only makes the spread of the virus increase.

     Now that there are multiple vaccines available, it seems the end of the pandemic is right around the corner. For Americans, Canadians, and other citizens in rich nations, reaching herd immunity by 2022 is much more realistic because of the pre-ordering of doses.

     “Release the excess vaccines that you’ve ordered and hoarded,” announced South African president, Cyril Ramaphosa. According to AJ+, only 1 in 10 people will receive a COVID-19 vaccine in the 70 poorest nations. Rich countries purchased 53% of available vaccines, while rich nations represent only 14% of the world’s population, leaving poorer countries out to dry. Canada, for example, is under scrutiny for buying enough vaccines to vaccinate Canadians “five times.”

     While Canada has committed to donating excess doses to countries in need, it doesn’t help that countries like Pakistan and Ukraine are falling behind. These countries have yet to begin rolling out vaccines at the rate that the US and the UK have. People are dying, and it is poor individuals who are continuing to suffer the most. Vaccine distribution in underdeveloped countries must begin quickly, and rich nations should pull their resources together to help with the process. The pandemic is a worldwide issue that is killing millions, and every nation needs to work together to end it.

      

247. Not Enough: the United States Climate Change Policy

     February 1, 2021 12:16 pm 1 Comment

     Growing up, I’ve had to evacuate from my childhood home 3 times. Grabbing items that are invaluable and sentimental, passing flames as we trek to go stay with a family on the opposite side of town hoping the rest of my belongings that I had to leave behind don’t fall victim to a California wildfire. 

     Growing up, we didn’t have snow days as the average temperature in Southern California is around 75 degrees, we had school canceled because the air quality due to smoke was too dangerous to be outside. 

     In the increasingly interconnected world, climate change has undeniably become a global threat. Societies will see an escalation in climate-related struggles if we maintain our current way of life, with no adjustments made. Creating an unstable future, one where there is a steep competition over resources, increased flooding, and people displaced from the effects. 

     Growing up, I have had United States Senators bring a snowball to the house floor to “prove” it is still cold outside and therefore climate change is still able to be disputed. 

     Growing up, the leaders of my nation have refused to acknowledge climate change as a serious threat, essentially leaving the world in tatters for future generations, my generation. 

     With the new Biden administration, climate change activists rejoiced to have a champion in the White House. President Biden signed a series of executive orders on the day of his inauguration, one of them rejoining the Paris Climate agreement and rescinding the construction permit of the Keystone XL oil pipeline. 

     However, this is not enough. 

     Climate change must be at the forefront of the new administration. The rejoining of the Paris Climate Agreement needs to be followed up with massive and aggressive domestic legislation. 

     We need to be aggressive. 

     We need to not only invest in new technology but also to dramatically reduce our greenhouse admissions.  We need to lean our economy off of its reliance on fossil fuels, we need a government that will fight for the future. 

     Although our government might be passive in tackling this issue by still having a debate the rest of the world has come to a conclusion about. It is easy to feel like what you, personally, are doing isn’t enough to combat the climate crisis. However, every item recycled, every single-use plastic unused, every time a reusable bag is used, and so on, adds up. 

     Climate change should no longer be a debatable issue. It is a fact. People who do not believe in climate change are not, “skeptics,” they are actively harming the future of the world. 

248. The Eurocentric Tendencies of Climate Change Analysis: It Is Time to Pass the Mic

     January 31, 2021 2:31 pm 2 Comments

     Tomorrow, January will come to a close, and along with it so will the submission period for this year’s Nobel Peace Prize nominations. In acknowledging this, I have found myself reflecting on the 2019 selection process. As some may recall, Greta Thunberg, a young climate activist from Sweden, was not included on the short-list for the final selection. In justification of this decision, Henrik Urdal of the Peace Research Institute-Oslo stated, “There is no simple and unquestionable causal link between climate change and conflict. The Nobel Committee should take note of this.” Urdal elaborates on this by citing the lack of consensus on climate’s impact regarding conflict and goes on to discuss that climate ranks in the bottom of a list of risk factors. While he concedes the point that researchers acknowledge some impact of climate change on conflict, and that this impact is bound to increase, I feel there are some pressing issues with Urdal’s take.

     Rarely does there exist a “simple” link between any risk factor and conflict. In contrast, conflict tends to emerge out of several complex intertwining risk factors, all of which need to be understood and addressed for a successful conflict transformation. Risk factors can amplify one another, and sometimes the presence of one risk factor can set the stage for others.

     Is this not the entire concern of climate change? It is not the mere presence of warming temperatures that has everyone up in arms, but the negative impacts of that on the functionality of the very ecosystems we rely on. In a world which developing countries source the majority of their economic livelihoods from agriculture, an increasingly unstable climate threatens socio-economic development (a risk factor Urdal cites as one of the most significant drivers of conflict). In countries with pre-existing risk factors such as an absence of the rule of law, does the economic turmoil and subsequent displacement of climate refugees not strain a nation which lacks institutional integrity?

     Climate change will never be the clear risk-factor that causes a country to devolve into chaos, but it is certainly a driver of the risk-factors that will. The negative effects of climate change are already impacting the stability of many developing nations. If our previous mistakes in development have taught us anything, it should be that success is built upon our ability to listen to those most impacted by the concepts we merely theorize on from afar. The opportunity to circumvent future crises requires the international community to shift perspectives to those often left out of the conversations on development.

     In the spirit of passing the mic, I will conclude this by turning the focus toward our partners at Children Peace Initiative Kenya (CPIK), whose work has drastically reduced drought-related conflict between pastoralists in their communities. CPIK organizes peace camps to build relationships and bridge the gap in communications between children from tribes fighting over resources. The friendships formed by the children create a ripple effect and encourage cooperation between the two tribes’ authority figures. This foundation is used to foster economic interdependence which optimizes output and disincentives violence driven by resource scarcity. In recognizing the environmental risk-factors that fuel conflict, CPIK has been able to apply innovative and effective measures to alleviate violence. They aim to continue this effort in other areas where severe drought increases susceptibility for resource conflicts. May their devotion to peace serve as an example for the international community as we seek to secure a sustainable future in the face of climate-driven conflict.

249. A Renewed Hope

     11:07 am 1 Comment

     Over the past two weeks, I’ve been trying to think about what this new presidency means for our country. It’s new leadership, new executive orders, and a new way of governing, just like with any change of a president. Yet this time, it can be summed up with one word: hope.

     This is a president that has already brought along a wave of firsts. We have the first female Vice President, who is also the first black and South Asian Vice President. Her husband is not only the first Second Gentleman but also the first Jewish one. In Georgia, Americans elected the first black and the first Jewish senators to represent the state. We have had the first transgender woman appointed as the assistant health secretary along with the first black defense secretary with the appointment of Lloyd Austin on January 22. 

     This presidency, in its first week, already has a lot of firsts, which could have meant that the one word to sum it up could have simply been “first”. Yet, it is much more than titles and identities. It’s about representation and hope. 

     These “firsts” allow young people, especially women of color, to see themselves in the highest offices of our country. It provides more Americans with the ability to see themselves in positions that have historically been dominated by older white males. The hope it provides for the future is what is most important. The hope of our future generation to take on roles they may not have seen themselves in before. The hope that we can continue to build the leadership of our country that is representative of the make-up of our citizens.

     These past two weeks have had many first, yet it is the hope (and knowledge) that they are not the last ones that make me excited. Vice President Harris, Defense Secretary Austin, and many others are breaking through previous barriers to ensure the hope lives on. 

     These past two weeks have restored hope that was lost for many. It is, simply, a renewed hope. 

250. 2021 Zimbabwe Peace Fellow

     January 21, 2021 3:05 pm Leave a Comment

     When I accepted this fellowship I was excited to work with an organization that encourages and supports social change. I did not know which project would be best for me until I was connected with The Women’s Advocacy Project. The Women’s Advocacy project is based out of Harare, Zimbabwe and they have done amazing things for the women and girls in their community. I speak with the founder of the organization, Constance Mugari, and the director, Dickson Mnyaci at least once a week to touch base on their project developments. In Zimbabwe there is a daily curfew which has been a challenge for the progression of their soap production. However, the ban is set to be lifted February 15^th! Their work ethic is truly inspiring and seeing the work that they have done already makes me so excited to support the expansion of their project into two new communities! I have researched the communities of Epworth, Chitungwiza, Mbare and Waterfalls. Child marriage is a common occurrence in those communities, and it’s a problem that seems very far from the US. My concern is that it is present in this country as well, and awareness needs to be given to the issue in the US. I hope to bridge the gap between the struggles of the Zimbabwean communities, and the communities in the US. I have started by reaching out to local high schools in my area (Chicago, Illinois). Hopefully I can connect with students via zoom to inform them about The Women’s Advocacy Project, that would be an amazing start.

251. The True Costs of the D.C. Riots and What Happens Now

     January 14, 2021 8:25 am 1 Comment

     The True Costs of the D.C. Riots and What Happens Now

     

     Law enforcement personnel detain a person as supporters of U.S. President Donald Trump clash with people opposing them on a street, in Washington, DC, U.S. November 15, 2020. REUTERS/Jim Urquhart

     What Happened?

     Tensions in the nation’s capital were at an all-time high as thousands of protesters were gathered outside to challenge their defeat in the recent national elections. Many were armed and some came with malicious intent. Soon enough, the undermanned Capitol security was overwhelmed as protestors broke through the metal barricades while scuffling with officers. Meanwhile, inside the Senate chambers of the Capitol, lawmakers were discussing possible objections to the elections when they had to be quickly rushed to safety. Protestors had broken into the Capitol.

     On the other side of the Capitol, in the House chambers, law enforcement officers created makeshift barricades to stem the tide of protestors banging on the doors. Their weapons were drawn, prepared to fire if need be. A breaking point was reached when one woman was shot and killed by an officer while attempting to reach the Vice President through a broken window. Police fire tear gas inside. Rubber bullets have been used. Improvised explosive devices (IEDs) had been found. This is the current state of our democracy and it is a sad state indeed.

     The damage inflicted by this historic event shook the nation. Lives were lost and people were injured. However, the worst damage caused by this mob was not to American property, but to America’s image abroad.

      

     America Abroad

     The United States of America was once believed to be the standard-bearer of democracy with the President colloquially regarded as the Leader of the Free World; now it stands on the international stage divided and in turmoil. The image of American democracy had been strained for decades now with our numerous failings in both domestic and foreign policy. Nonetheless, with the events that had unfolded on that Wednesday afternoon, we had once again outdone ourselves as our own citizens sought to overthrow their own democratic process. The damage caused by this act, bordering on insurrection, has forever been etched into everybody’s memory.

      

     What Comes Next?

     With the United States’ reputation once again damaged, what happens next? The damage done to our soft power will take years to fix. There is no doubt that authoritarian regimes will use footage of what had transpired that fateful day to show the weakness of democracy and to show a crumbling America. Policymakers will have to deal with bolder challenges as many will perceive the attack on the Capitol as a sign of American weakness.

     In spite of what had transpired and the road that lays ahead, there is still hope. American soft power and its image abroad has suffered much worse in the past and was still able to regain itself. With the incoming Biden Administration, the hope of America regaining itself in the world’s center stage once again as a stable democracy shines bright. Through our trials and tribulations, both domestic and foreign, Americans have always overcome these challenges with our democracy intact. Once again, we are faced with a challenge not foreign but domestic. This is a challenge that has been brewing in our backyard for years and it is time we shine a light on this ugly mole. We need to band together in order to preserve not only ourselves, our image abroad, but also our own fragile democracy.

252. COVID-19 Embroidery Project: Ann Kumashiro

     December 19, 2020 12:25 pm 1 Comment

253. COVID-19 Embroidery Project: Natalie Manlove

     12:23 pm Leave a Comment

254. COVID-19 Embroidery Project: Sofia Reecer

     December 18, 2020 5:02 pm Leave a Comment

255. COVID-19 Embroidery Project: Ainsley Pollock

     5:00 pm Leave a Comment

256. COVID-19 Embroidery Project: Layla Kherbouch

     12:42 pm Leave a Comment

257. Women’s Rights Reaching a Climatic Cliff

     December 7, 2020 2:19 pm Leave a Comment

     As a young woman, I have grown up watching politicians and lawmakers chip away at my right to bodily autonomy. The politicization of my health care has made me question whether my government serves to violate my body or protect it. 

     The Pro-Life vs. Pro-Choice debate is a war that has been waging for too long. Roe v. Wade was a huge stride in women’s rights and is a symbol of the liberation of women’s bodies. Since it’s ruling in 1973, the evangelistic Pro-Life movement has been making enormous progress in the political arena to strip women of their right to choose. Their direct manipulation of Republican politicians has created legal restrictions limiting access to abortions. 

     Targeted Regulations on Abortion Providers (TRAP) are legal laws that are endangering women’s right to an abortion. Twenty-three states have legal regulations on abortion clinics. Planned Parenthood states that “Targeted restrictions on abortion providers (TRAP) laws are costly, severe, and medically unnecessary requirements imposed on abortion providers and women’s health centers.” These laws are a direct reflection of Republican lawmakers weaponizing their personal beliefs to infringe the limit women’s power over their bodies to gain political support.  

      What is the effect of TRAP laws? Well, they created “abortion deserts,”  a term used to describe cities that are more than 100 miles away from the nearest abortion clinic. Twenty-seven major cities in the United States qualify as an “abortion desert” and there even six states that only have one abortion clinic in the entire state all of this due to the constraints of TRAP laws.

      For a woman without a car or working a 40 plus hour week cannot afford to travel 100 miles for an abortion this is an extreme time and financial constraint. This creates a socio-economic gap that favors women of higher income while women with a lower income can’t afford access to abortion. This increases unwanted pregnancies in low-income communities which only perpetuates the cycle of poverty. 

     In 2019 the United States saw a surge of abortion bans in southern states in hopes that these laws would be challenged and brought to the Supreme Court. Luckily, the Louisana abortion ban was struck down by the Supreme Court with a close vote of 5-4 in March 2020. 

     Unfortunately, this is not the end, it is only the beginning. Due to the recent devastating loss of Supreme Court Justice, Ruth Bader Ginsburg and her conservative replacement Amy Coney Barrett could rechallenge Roe vs Wade, forcing women’s rights to a climatic cliff. 

     Growing up I treasured Ruth Bader Ginsburg for fighting for the equality of women in the workforce and in the homes, along with protecting a woman’s right to choose. Her efforts to fight for women’s bodily autonomy are threatened by the enforcement of new TRAP laws and the appointment of Amy Coney Barrett. The politicization of abortion is a health risk. Politicians are creating and enforcing TRAP laws in their states without having any sort of medical experience. Proving, the TRAP laws are not created to protect or help women but to limit access to abortions because of their own personal beliefs. In totality, The debate is not about health and protecting the lives of women, it is simply a facade that politicians and lawmakers use to gain more power. 

      

258. COVID-19 Embroidery Project: Kate Lanman

     2:15 pm 1 Comment

259. COVID-19 Embroidery Project: Leah Akin Nelson

     2:12 pm Leave a Comment

260. COVID-19 Embroidery Project: Elena Cura

     1:22 pm Leave a Comment

261. COVID-19 Embroidery Project: Stephanie Achugamonu

     1:17 pm Leave a Comment

262. Help Us to Strengthen International Service During the Pandemic

     December 4, 2020 11:55 am Leave a Comment

     Help Us to Strengthen International Service

263. Everyday is Election Day

     November 16, 2020 11:44 am Leave a Comment

     Everyday is Election Day

264. Every Day Is Election Day

     November 14, 2020 8:13 am Leave a Comment

     Philadelphia, November 14: The rest of the world hates to be lectured by Americans about democracy, so I decided to offer my services to the Democrats of Pennsylvania during the recent election to see how it worked.

     The short answer was slowly. I made around 900 calls leading up to the election, but talked to less than a hundred humans. I then spent election day in the cold outside a polling station in Philadelphia, waiting for voters who did not arrive because they had already voted.

     But that was fine. I was ready for some boredom after months of high anxiety, and happy to be one droplet in a mighty wave of almost 19,000 out-of-staters who made calls for the Democrats in Pennsylvania. Who cared if only 200 voters turned up at our polling station when almost 500 had already voted?

     We should take time to reflect on the lessons from this election as President-elect Biden prepares to restore democracy to the forefront of American foreign policy. Whether this is credible will depend largely on how the election is viewed abroad. American lectures work best when Americans practice what they preach.

     It hasn’t always worked out well. I can remember running a poll for the CSCE during municipal elections in the Bosnian town of Srebrenica in November 2000. Our station overlooked the site of the worst massacre in Europe since World War 2 and our ballot counters were all Bosnian Serbs because Muslims had been expelled or killed. The counters had probably taken part in the killing, but right now they were listening open-mouthed to lurid reports on the radio about hanging chads in Florida. One asked: Could democracy in America really be this crazy?

     It was galling to be mocked by perpetrators of genocide. But that is the price you pay for what Viktor Orban, the deeply undemocratic Prime Minister of Hungary, has called “moral imperialism.”

     American diplomacy can make a compelling case for democracy after this election. It was, first and foremost, an act of courage. If you voted by mail you risked losing your ballot. If you voted in person you risked losing your life. The fact that over 160 million Americans took the risk – the largest turnout since 1908 – was astounding.

     Many of those who answered my calls were elderly and at high risk from the COVID-19 virus. Several were coping with cancer. For these brave people, voting was a rebuke to a pandemic that has forced us all to cower in our basements. It meant rejoining the human race for a day.

     This was also a vote for human rights. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights does not mention democracy, but it does affirm the right to participate in one’s government. That right is in turn protected by other more familiar rights like assembly, education, speech and freedom from violence. Human rights have been tossed aside by the Trump Administration. This election is an argument for restoring rights to American foreign policy – not piece-meal as in the past, but in their entirety.

     Third there is racism. Democracies are measured by their ability to protect minorities, and for me this campaign began on May 25 with the shocking murder of George Floyd. The last six months have seen Americans confront their troubled racial history with unflinching vigor and imagination. The election of a multiracial woman as Vice-President, and the elevation of a record number of women of color to the US House of Representatives, will surely help. Yes, the rest of the world really does view America as a melting pot, and yes we admire it.

     Finally, there is the spectacle of an American President determined to intimidate voters, curb voting and de-legitimize the result. This is straight out of the playbook of Orban, Lukashenko, Putin and other authoritarians masquerading as democrats, but the main casualty is likely to be Trump’s own tarnished legacy. In fact, history will probably thank him for stiffening the resolve of voters. Trump as the savior of democracy? That is sweetly ironic.

     Of course, this does not mean plain sailing ahead. Liberal democracy will struggle to deal with an increasingly fragmented world. It may take years for the United Nations, which has offered a safety net during times of crisis, to recover from Trump’s contempt and COVID-19.

     Core principles of human rights will also face new tests. This is starkly illustrated by the pandemic, which pits the rights of individuals against the health of society as a whole. The US is not handling this well.

     And if the pandemic is chilling, climate change will be a nightmare. The will of the people is sure to be tested by floods, fires, droughts, diminished food supplies, mass migration, pollution, and the loss of species. Making it harder, Americans will be asked to make sacrifices for future generations, as yet unborn. The pandemic suggests that will be a tough sell.

     This work begins now. Indeed, it leads to one final takeaway from the recent election – we cannot wait until the next one rolls around. Every day should be election day in America.

     “Voting in this election was an act of courage. If you voted by mail you risked losing your ballot. If you voted in person you risked losing your life.”

265. Hail To The Nineteenth!

     October 27, 2020 3:20 pm Leave a Comment

     Hail To The Nineteenth!

266. Unemployment, Infection Threaten Migrants Returning to Nepal

     October 20, 2020 11:10 am Leave a Comment

     Unemployment, Infection Threaten Migrants Returning to Nepal

267. Nobel Peace Prize Lifts Morale of Aid Workers

     October 13, 2020 1:43 pm Leave a Comment

     Nobel Peace Prize Lifts Morale of Aid Workers

268. She Persists

     October 12, 2020 12:23 pm 1 Comment

     I recently finished work on a project with the Cameron Art Museum in Wilmington, NC to commemorate the 100^th anniversary of the 19^th amendment to the US Constitution.  This amendment gave women the right to vote after a decades long campaign by many strong, determined women who saw an inequity and took steps, often at great personal cost, to correct it.  This push for voter equality began with the Seneca Falls Convention in 1848, the first women’s rights convention in the United States.  It took 72 years from that date for women to gain the ballot.  Many (probably most) of the women initiating the actions which led to this all- important right, never lived to cast a vote but they understood the importance of what they were trying to accomplish and persevered in the face of violence and invective.  Some lost their families as a result of their actions, many lost jobs, many were imprisoned or beaten.  And yet, they never gave up.  They continued to enlist more women to the cause until their movement became an irresistible force.

     I think of these suffragists every time I cast my ballot and I have never missed voting in any election, whether national, state, or local since I became eligible.  In the United States, voting is one of the rights of citizens but it is also a responsibility.  I also consider it a responsibility to these amazing women who simply would not give up.

     During my time with the Advocacy Project, I have come to recognize this same determination and persistence in the women we work with.  I see the women in Nepal who lost loved ones to the disappearances.  Even as the years have passed, they have continued their campaign to attain justice for those lost and restitution for those remaining.  I see the women in Mali who have survived gender-based violence, trying to recover from their personal trauma but also telling their stories so they may help protect other women and girls from suffering the same fate.  I see women in Zimbabwe working to prevent their young sisters or daughters from becoming child brides and showing them that with ingenuity and hard work, they can create an income producing business so they can help their families without having to be married off.

     I am no longer surprised by these stories of sacrifice and determination because I encounter them wherever I go.  Instead, I stand in awe of women everywhere – women who never give up, women who work together for the greater good, women who survive even when circumstances are against them.  They persevere, they persist, they find a way.  We should all be grateful for this quality in women and recognize that it makes the world better.

     As I cast my vote in this presidential election, I’ll be thinking of the women who made my vote possible and take pleasure and pride in the knowledge that it will, in all likelihood, be the women’s vote that determines the outcome.

     Thank you:  Susan B. Anthony, Ida B. Wells, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Mathilda Franziska Anneke, Alice Stone Blackwell, Antoinette Brown Blackwell, Harriet Stanon Blach, Amelia Bloomer, Carrie Chapman Catt, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Julia Ward Howe, Lucretia Coffin Mott, Anna Howard Shaw, Lucy Stone, Sojourner Truth, Alice Pal, Frances E.W. Harper, Mary Church Terrell, and all the countless other suffragists who worked tirelessly to secure the vote for American women.

      

     

     The Nineteenth Amendment Banner at the Cameron Art Museum, Wilmington, NC

269. Forever Haunted By The Disappeared

     September 15, 2020 2:52 pm Leave a Comment

     Forever Haunted By The Disappeared

270. Making Soap has Reduced Child Marriage!

     September 14, 2020 2:12 pm Leave a Comment

     

     Opening up a market: Trish with a local shopkeeper who has agreed to sell Clean Wash soap.

      

     To begin with, the WAP soap making project has created self-employment for our young girls in our communities. We are now able to work as girls using our hands and have improved our income.  The sales of soap have made it possible that we can now take care of ourselves and help our families to attain basic needs which were hard to access in the past before the start of the clean girl project.

     Before we began the project, many of us had no occupation. We used to wonder around with some ending up in unplanned relationships which led many of our friends into unwanted sex, unplanned pregnancies and early child marriages.

     Many thanks go to WAP for initiating this very significant project which has equipped us with important skills that have remained central to our lives.  We now have a job that keeps us busy, producing, packing and marketing our product. It has helped us not to fall into the traps of boys, hence reducing child marriages.

     WAP has truly empowered us as girls. We have gained skills, knowledge and income and are in fact grateful. The soap making project together with the weekly educational sessions are a factual bid to ending early child marriages. We can see a reduction in the number of girls who were at risk of getting into child marriages. Though facing some challenges due to our economy, the project has helped us a lot to cater for our immediate need including accessing our sanitary wear.

271. Forever Haunted By The Disappeared

     September 11, 2020 1:35 pm Leave a Comment

     

     Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo Seek their Children in Buenos Aires

      

     Washington DC, September 11: In the summer of 1976, when I started out as a reporter in Geneva, Argentinians began to arrive at the United Nations with a haunted look in their eyes. They were numbed by what had happened in their country following a military coup in March, and fearful of being hunted down.

     They were right to be scared. Back in Argentina, the dictators had launched a dirty war against “subversives” that would claim as many as 30,000 lives. The tentacles of their campaign would extend to Europe, where they installed a team of former torturers at the Argentinian embassy in Paris and instructed their diplomats in Geneva to muzzle critics at the UN. It was not easy to report on such a story. My interviews with Argentinians were conducted in secret.

     And yet something other than terror was also under way. We did not know it at the time, but these frightened people were at the forefront of a movement that would eventually advance democracy throughout Latin America and revolutionize international human rights.

     The movement was led by family members of the disappeared and it unfolded simultaneously in Argentina and abroad. In 1977 Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo took to the streets of Buenos Aires to protest the disappearance of their children, followed by the Grandmothers. Both groups led the search for answers after democracy was restored in 1983 and helped the new government come up with a formula – a truth commission followed by prosecutions – that has become the blue-print for transitional justice everywhere.

     The families have also made an impact on the international stage. They inspired the UN in Geneva to create a working group to investigate disappearances worldwide. Disappearances were declared crimes against humanity in 1998 and criminalized by a new international treaty in 2007. The practice is now viewed with the same horror as torture.

     And all of this was triggered by the actions of desperate family members, most of them women.

     It all came back to me recently while making two podcasts on August 30, the International Day of the Disappeared, with my colleague Beth Alexion from The Advocacy Project.

     We talked with two family members from Argentina and Nepal who have made it their life’s work to denounce disappearances. Ariel Dulitzky lost two maternal cousins in Argentina and went on to a distinguished career as a lawyer, professor and chair of the UN working group on disappearances. Ram Bhandari’s father disappeared in Nepal in 2001. After democracy arrived with a rush in 2006 Ram set about building the Network of Families of the Disappeared in Nepal (NEFAD), which now represents over 1,000 families.

     Our podcasts offer a fascinating contrast between two countries that emerged in triumph from repression and violence, but have chosen different paths to recovery. Argentinians have addressed the challenge head on, but Nepalis have largely tried to sweep the disappearances under the carpet. Neither approach has entirely worked. Both societies remain haunted by the disappeared and wonder if they can ever recover.

     The Terror

     Ariel Dulitzky was nine when the military seized power in Argentina in March 1976. He does not remember much about the time, although he did realize that something was up when his parents spoke in Yiddish so that he would not understand.

     They were probably discussing the disappearance of his mother’s cousins Mathilde and Alicia. It later emerged that Mathilde had been taken to the Navy Mechanics School in Buenos Aires, also known as the ESMA, where over 5,000 Argentinians were tortured and killed. Most were dropped from planes into the River Plate. Some women even gave birth in shackles at the ESMA before being separated from their infants and killed. Alicia’s fate has never been explained.

     Asked what Mathilde might have endured in such a dark place, Ariel replies: “I can’t imagine.” He visited the ESMA as chair of the UN working group. It left him shaking and reminded him of his responsibilities towards the families.

     The disappearances in Argentina had a garish quality. Some of the killers were infamous even before the dictatorship fell. They included Lieutenant Alfredo Astiz, known as the “Blond Angel,” who infiltrated the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo and supervised torture at the ESMA. Astiz earned further notoriety when he was captured by the British during the early stages of the Malvinas/Falklands war.

     What moved people like Astiz? Ariel assumes that they were driven by the perverted ideology of state security and encouraged by the passivity of most Argentinians. Also the very tactic of disappearances was designed to intimidate. A mere inquiry might put the captive at even greater risk.

     Ram Bhandari’s father Tej Bahadur disappeared in Nepal in very different circumstances. Between 1996 and 2006, Nepal was torn by a brutal war between the government and Maoist rebels. Around 2,500 Nepalis disappeared. Yet this was not the calculated reign of terror seen in Argentina. Many of the victims were denounced to the local police or to Maoist rebels by jealous neighbors. Ram’s own father was a respected former teacher who was committed to social justice.

     Regardless of the reasons, the impact on families was devastating in both countries “We had a happy family life,” says Ram. “Our whole family universe has been destroyed.”

     Disappeared: Mathilde “Tili” Itzigsohn

     Disappeared: Alicia Irene “Moni” Naymark

     Convicted: Lt Alfredo Astiz, the “Blond Angel”

     The Needs of Families

     It is impossible to understand families of the disappeared without understanding what motivates them. This is not complicated, given the bonds within families. Even so, relatives of the disappeared are probably unique among human rights advocates for their courage and tenacity.

     Several Mothers of the Plaza De Mayo disappeared during the dictatorship, but the group was undeterred and when their morale flagged others came forward. In 1995 a new group of family members emerged to harass the killers. These were the Hijos – Children of the Disappeared. They were known as “Scratchers” because they wrote graffiti on the houses of perpetrators like Astiz and jeered at them when they went to restaurants. Ariel calls this “social accountability.”

     The challenge facing families in Argentina and Nepal changed after democracy was restored and the adrenalin rush of protest gave way to an exhausting search through police stations and morgues. Women bear the brunt, which is another reason why this campaign is so unusual. Ariel recalls one tearful session with mothers in Peru who were forced to give sexual favors in return for scraps of information about their missing children. In Nepal, for a time, the government offered a pay-out to wives on condition that they declared their husbands dead. The women reacted with outrage.

     Poverty is another driving force. Many of the disappeared in Argentina were from wealthy middle-class families. Not so in Nepal, where victims often came from minorities like the Tharu that are outside the economic mainstream and depend on agriculture. In rural communities, the loss of the family breadwinner is devastating.

     We asked Ram to prioritize the needs of the families in Nepal. Memory and truth come top of his list, and he applauds the many creative ways that families have used to restore the identity of their lost relatives. This has included story-telling through memorial quilts, street theater, the naming of streets, and household shrines. If the entire community is involved so much the better, because the disappeared will be publicly vindicated. After truth and memory, for Ram, comes money and reparations. Justice and prosecutions are seen as less of a priority.

     This might seem to ignore the lessons from Argentina, where truth and justice went hand in hand. CONADEP the truth commission gave way seamlessly to the trial of the nine former Junta leaders in 1985 – a watershed event for the country and profoundly important for the families. These nine men had casually dispensed life and death and to see them facing civilian judges strengthened the rule of law and the young democracy. The trial also helped to establish the truth. “Remember that the Mothers were called Las Locas – the crazies,” says Ariel. “(The trial) gave them a sense of establishing their own dignity and restoring the memory of their relatives.”

     Hundreds of perpetrators have since been prosecuted, underscoring the importance of justice to recovery, although Ariel himself feels that the truth is probably more important.

     The real point, though, is that transitional justice is about much more than justice. Ariel is also clear that priorities must be determined by those who have most at stake. His job on the UN working group was to support the families and never impose an agenda.

     This has been ignored in the case of Nepal by human rights professionals, who have pursued legal accountability with a single-minded obsession. In 2014 the government of Nepal established two commissions to investigate the disappearances and promote truth and reconciliation. The law also promised an amnesty to perpetrators at the insistence of the military.

     Western governments, UN agencies and the biggest names in human rights have seized on the amnesty as a reason to withdraw from the entire process of transitional justice, even though legal accountability is just one of many demands made by the families, who are surely the stakeholders that matter most. “They focus on their own agenda” says Ram. “But victims – we have different needs. They don’t listen well to the local groups.” His frustration is palpable.

     Still searching in Nepal

     Fudiya lost her son

     Belmati lost 3 children

      

     Seeking Closure

     How can individuals and families heal after a national trauma like the disappearances? That question haunts Argentina and Nepal, particularly as most of the facts will never be known. Even in Argentina, where the government has cooperated, the UN working group has only confirmed 4,219 cases and clarified 379. Of these, 335 victims were found to have died.

     Not surprisingly, many Argentinians and Nepalis ask why the families cannot move on. Why should a tiny number of women hold the rest of society hostage to their obsessions, when their countries face so many other challenges?

     The answer should be obvious to Americans as they remember the terrorist attacks on 9/11. When a loved one disappears, his or her family is suspended in a psychological limbo. As long as the questions persist – what, why and how – the wounds will never heal. Indeed, the uncertainty may even worsen as time passes.

     But the reverse may also be true. The Mothers in Argentina found purpose in their search and may find it hard to call a halt if their loved one is identified, particularly if all they receive is a bag of bones. “The disappeared never grow old,” says Ariel. They will always be remembered as they were in the last photograph. The process of mourning will be long and complex.

     Solidarity also explains why closure is so difficult. Even if her own child is identified, a mother might continue the quest on behalf of other women who have become her closest friends. As the Argentinian Grandmothers like to say: “They are all our children.” Ariel also notes that many campaigners have adopted the same social justice platform that their children died for. Ram from Nepal agrees: “My father was a simple man, but he had a dream. I am pursuing his dream.”

     Nor is this just about individual closure, because families have their own collective memory. When someone is dragged from his or her home, the shocking event enters the family folklore forever. This explains why some of the most ardent campaigners in Nepal were infants at the time and too young to have known their fathers in person. Ariel himself recently discovered that Dulitzkys had perished in the Holocaust in Ukraine. He never knew them, of course, but they have now become part of his own identify. “Don’t ask me to give up my heritage,” he says.

     Will Argentina ever fully recover from the disappearances? We put that question to Ariel and he deflects it. Sure, human rights advocates must be realistic if they are to remain credible. And yes, the disappeared will probably never be found.

     But no society ever fully escapes its past, as the US is currently discovering with race and slavery. Ariel is convinced that societies which face the uncomfortable facts with tolerance and understanding will be rewarded. His own country Argentina has enjoyed almost 40 years of uninterrupted democracy. This, he says, is because it suffered through, and then thoroughly repudiated, the disappearances. Unfortunately, this message has still to register in Nepal.

     A Time for Reflection

     Our podcasts find Ariel and Ram in a reflective mood.

     As Ariel prepares for a new semester at the University of Texas he is satisfied by his work with the UN and proud of what his country has achieved. But he remains haunted by what he has learned in places like the ESMA in Buenos Aires.

     He withholds judgement on the UN group he once chaired. The group has asked 26 governments to explain 699 new disappearances so far this year and transmitted 58,606 cases to 109 governments in the past 40 years. At the very least, this shows that the sinister practice of disappearances is still widely employed and underscores the importance of the group. But 46,271 cases remain unresolved, raising the question of whether the group has fulfilled its promise to families. We hope to put that question to the group’s current members in a future podcast.

     The case of Argentina raises other current concerns. Looking back at Argentina’s descent into terror, Ariel worries at creeping authoritarianism in the US and the Trump Administration’s contempt for the checks and balances of democracy.

     For Ram, the last few months have only deepened the pain. Ram was in Europe when the pandemic broke out in March and he has not seen his family since. This seems cruelly ironic given the disappearance of his father. But at least, he says, the world now knows how it feels to be forcibly separated from those you love: “Families of the disappeared have been living through a pandemic for the last twenty years.”

     Ram Bhandari with his father before Tej Bahadur disappeared in 2001

     Ariel Dulitzky with Estela Carlotto, President of the Argentinian Grandmothers

     Many of the disappeared were dropped from “death flights” into the River Plate

      

      

     • Listen to Beth’s podcast with Ram on Nepal
     • Listen to Iain’s podcast with Ariel on Argentina
     • Meet families of the disappeared in Bardiya, Nepal
     • Donate to the Bardiya bag-making project, run by the wives.

      

     Iain is the author of ‘Behind The Disappearances – Argentina’s Dirty War Against Human Rights And The United Nations,’ University of Pennsylvania Press.

272. Podcast on Enforced Disappearances

     August 29, 2020 9:24 am 1 Comment

     This is the first podcast in a series on Enforced Disappearances around the world. In this episode, Ram Bhandari, founder of NEFAD Nepal, sits down with Iain Guest and myself to discuss his disappeared father, memory and the shortcomings of transitional justice in Nepal. This episode was launched to commemorate the International Day of the Disappeared, which takes place each year on August 30.

     https://soundcloud.com/user-410468818/shorter-edit-by-iain-sept-2

273. Reflections on a Remote Fellowship

     August 21, 2020 7:59 am Leave a Comment

     By nature, humans struggle with change because it pushes us out of our comfort zones.  Despite having two years of prior experience working for a tech company, a place where change occurred on a weekly basis, I often feel some level of discomfort when it comes to coping with unfamiliar territory.  Due to COVID-19, this year the world has had to figure out a new way to adapt given that most of us can no longer attend classes, go to our offices, network, or hang out with our families and friends in person.

     All of this has happened, but we have intelligent brains that have allowed us to find creative ways to continue to live our lives.  As a result, the whole world has learned to interact innovatively with limited physical contact.

     When I received the news in February that I would be a Peace Fellow for the summer of 2020, working with the Gulu Disabled Persons Union in Gulu, Uganda, I was excited.  I felt like a little boy again, waiting impatiently to open a highly anticipated gift, because in my mind, going to Uganda would allow me to work with a marginalized community and eventually contribute to making a difference.

     I was also excited because being in Africa would enable me to interact with people who were culturally different from me, and as someone who is passionate about international affairs, I believed that working in Uganda would teach me valuable lessons in cultural competency that I could not learn in a classroom.

     However, when I got the news on March 2 that the university had cancelled my previously planned trip to Israel, as well as all future international travel, I was crestfallen.  Although I had the opportunity to apply for other internships, I decided that I was not going to abandon this fellowship, for I remained optimistic that either the country would reopen or I would be able to work virtually.  After several conversations with the Advocacy Project, we decided to move forward with the fellowship remotely.

     Despite my experience with the world of technology, I am always apprehensive about online learning or working, not because I am old-school but because I just prefer the human interaction.  Faced with the choice between doing the fellowship remotely and not doing it at all, I decided to embark on the virtual route on June 1, 2020, with the expectation that anything could happen.

     As I wrap up this fellowship, I can confidently say that these past twelve weeks have been some of the most productive ones of my professional life.  Though, at first, one might feel reluctant to step into the unknown by making a decision such as taking on a new and unfamiliar role during frightening and unprecedented times, such a task is not impossible.  If you approach it with confidence, self-awareness, humility, willingness to learn, and an open mind, it is possible to make the best out of any experience.

     Applying this mindset to my fellowship this summer, I was able to build solid relationships with both GDPU leadership and the Advocacy Project team while accomplishing the work that needed to be done.  This remote fellowship, moreover, allowed me to participate in meetings and interact with the work of other AP fellows in a way that would not have been feasible had I spent the summer on the ground in Gulu.

     Although the main project that I had originally hoped to be a part of, which was working with the WASH project to install accessible toilets in schools for students with disabilities, was not possible due to COVID-19, the two micro-enterprises that I helped to develop have the potential to be beneficial in the long term to GDPU’s fulfillment of its mission to provide dignity for people with limited mobility.

     Outside of this experience, I do believe that, after COVID-19, the Advocacy Project should continue to recruit fellows to work on-site alongside GDPU and other organizations that fight for marginalized groups worldwide.  Nevertheless, I believe that AP should also explore the possibility of remote fellowships year-round so that its partner organizations can benefit from the support of students like me during the school year.  This approach would allow AP to assess its fellows and send the most dedicated and prepared students to spend their summers working in partner organizations’ local communities.

     I hope that my blog, as a testament to what I have learned during my fellowship, will serve to encourage those who fear that this pandemic has narrowed their future opportunities, especially considering how our country’s government has handled this crisis.  As Americans, we always prevail through adversity, and thus we should remain optimistic no matter the circumstances.

274. Perfect Pitch and Other Misleading Assumptions About Disability

     August 13, 2020 9:18 am 1 Comment

     At the beginning of my undergraduate career, I decided to close my piano servicing business.The last client that I took on was an older gentleman who had a very fine Yamaha C2 grand piano that he wanted me to work on.As soon as I entered his living room and opened the piano, I started to check out the tone and look for any discordance between the strings to determine with my tuning fork if the piano was sharp or flat.Seeing me wearing a pair of brown sunglasses, the gentleman said, “Aha!I am glad they sent a blind man to tune my piano.But the gentleman on the phone yesterday did not tell me you were blind.”  Then, seeing the confusion in my face, he added, “It’s a good thing.All the blind people have perfect pitch, which means my piano will be perfectly tuned.”I politely explained to him that I had been the person on the phone the previous day, and that being visually impaired does not automatically grant people perfect or absolute pitch.We continued our conversation and he said that people who were visually impaired, as far as he knew, had to have a sixth sense or else they would be unable to survive, and that they were special people.Despite my attempts to convince him otherwise, it felt as if I were beating a dead horse.He was convinced that maybe I might not be like that, but other people he had encountered with disabilities had that sixth sense.After a while, I finally asked him how many people with disabilities he had interacted with, and he couldn’t remember – he guessed maybe one or two.This personal experience often makes me wonder why members of society perceive those who live with a disability as either special, dependent, needy, or, in some cultures, being punished for past misdeeds.One possible explanation is that humans are naturally curious, and if we have no way of explaining or understanding the reason why something happened, we formulate explanations that fit into our world view.The experience that I described with my client synchronizes with one of the points brought up in an essay by Laurie Block, “Stereotypes About People with Disabilities.”  Block explains that, in some people’s belief, “[a] person with a disability will be compensated for his/her lack by greater abilities and strengths in other areas – abilities that are sometimes beyond the ordinary.”Stereotypes held by some members of society trigger the belief that those who live with a physical or cognitive condition were placed on Earth to somehow benefit others, to give them a mission or to inspire them to be more kind or less selfish.Given their condition, Laurie Block adds, people with disabilities may be seen as “holy innocents endowed with special grace.”  On the surface, such beliefs do not necessarily appear harmful; they may seem intended to protect people with disabilities.On a more profound level, however, these beliefs take away the independence of people with disabilities and convince them that they are not strong or capable enough, and they prevent the rest of society from interacting with these people like they would with any other individual.To illustrate, in his book, Disabled We Stand, Allan T. Sutherland describes examples where people with disabilities have been given unsolicited and unnecessary assistance by strangers who believed they were being helpful.For instance, people with visual impairments have been led across streets that did not help them to reach their destinations, which might have the actual result of making them late for an appointment or making them miss a bus or train.

     https://edlekarnapilulky.cz

     In one anecdote, a woman climbed a long staircase in the New York subway using her crutches, and as she stopped to catch her breath, “some well-meaning cavalier materialized out of the crowd, grabbed her up and carried her down to the bottom again.”Such stories reveal that members of society need to educate themselves so that they can view those with a physical or cognitive condition as independent, fully capable individuals who may just need a little assistance sometimes.Making the decision to help without their consent sends the message that they are incapable of getting what they want or need for themselves.There is not enough space in this blog to enumerate all of the stereotypes that society projects onto its members who live with a disability.Nevertheless, I believe that those who fight against inequality have a responsibility to educate others that those who live with certain conditions may need a helping hand, but that doesn’t imply that they are not independent or cannot contribute to society.After reading this blog, when you interact with a person who has a physical condition, make an effort to communicate with that person just as you would communicate with other individuals.When you see someone in a wheelchair or with a white cane or crutches traveling with someone else, if you need to interact with that person, do not assume that the one who is traveling with them is a helper and that you must address yourself to that person; instead, address the person directly.This will show courtesy and convey that you respect the person with a disability and value their communication with you.These simple interactions are how prejudices begin to disappear, and every individual should make it their mission to educate themselves on how to interact with those who live with a physical or cognitive condition instead of letting stereotypes inform their actions and opinions.

     “Those who fight against inequality have a responsibility to educate others that those who live with certain conditions may need a helping hand, but that doesn’t imply that they are not independent or cannot contribute to society.”

275. Podcast: The Long-Term Impact of Conflict on People with Disabilities in Gulu

     August 6, 2020 1:13 pm 2 Comments

276. The Overlooked Perpetrator and the Unsung Heroes: How Climate Change Drives Violence Against the Land Rights Defenders who are Protecting Us All

     August 4, 2020 2:04 pm 1 Comment

     When It Rains it Pours

     Gardeners know the paradox: dry soil does not effectively absorb water. In that same vein, neither does scorched earth. So, after the drought comes the flood – statistically speaking. Then, flood waters wash away top layers of soil. This is called erosion. Ironically, eroded land is less capable of storing water and is therefore more susceptible to flooding. In this cycle, lush rainforests are stripped into deserts.

     

      

     Climate Change is Shrinking Land Supply

     As climate change both intensifies drought and aggrandizes flooding through precipitation patterns and melting glaciers, the World Bank predicts that global warming will induce widespread desertification in Colombia.

     According to the Institute for Hydrology Meteorology and Environmental Studies (IDEAM), 40% of Colombian territory is already experiencing some degree of degradation due to erosion. Moreover, by 2012, full blown desertification had already taken more than 24% of the country’s land mass. Thus, arable land in Colombia is very clearly and quickly disappearing.

     

     In “Landscape of Change” Jill Pelto uses climatology charts and watercolors to demonstrate the impact of climate change on land.

      

     Inequality Abounds

     Meanwhile, the richest 1% own 80% of the land. Many of these wealthy estate owners are cattle ranchers. It is important to note that cattle ranching is often falsely cited as proof of land use – necessary under Colombian law for land procurement. This fraudulent claim enables the performance of land speculation. As climate change heightens arable land scarcity, hoarding land becomes increasingly profitable. Unfortunately, this incentivises a rush to log the Amazon.

     However, climate change does hurt legitimate ranchers in a way that also fuels deforestation. Global warming accelerates the pace at which these producers exhaust their soil resources. This past decade, the livestock industry alone lost $1.8 billion due to the El Niño-Southern Oscillation (ENSO). In the face of climate change, scientists predict ENSO will only grow more severe. Unfortunately, “climate and soil characteristics,” limit viable pasture-expansion options. Ranchers can only expand into areas with agro-ecological potential. Cue deforestation.

     It is important to note here that by refusing to enact the rural reform integral to the Peace Accords, the Colombian government has enabled widespread and accelerating deforestation. Before the Peace Accords were signed in 2016, the rebels utilized forage coverage as a tool in war. As such, they strictly limited deforestation. When the Peace Accords were signed and FARC strongholds were disbanded, the indigenous were promised this land. However, cattle ranchers and other large scale profiteers were also eyeing the territory. When the government then rejected to protect indigenous land rights, big businesses swooped in. Today, 60% of deforestation in Colombia is caused by land-grabbing. While climate change exacerbates land scarcity, government neglect allows unchecked greed to drive violence against people and the earth.

      

     The Impacts of Deforestation

     Deforestation worsens drought. As Nick Nuttal, the spokesperson for the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP) summarized, forests “drill water…into underground aquifers where it is stored to supply rivers during drought.” At the same time, deforestation may even cause drought. According to Nuttal, trees “pump ground water into the sky [where] the moisture then condenses and falls as rain.” Thus, without trees, precipitation is limited.

     

     Dr. Sheil of the Norwegian University of Life Sciences expands, in “areas like the Congo and the Amazon, the forests cause rainfall… if they weren’t there the interior of these continental areas would be deserts.” Indeed, a study conducted by scientists at the University of Leads found, “air that passed over extensive vegetation… produces at least twice as much rain as air that has passed over little vegetation.”

     Deforestation also reduces groundcover and removes soil, which further stunts the earth’s ability to absorb and store water. This, as stated above, increases the likelihood and severity of flooding. Of course, deforestation also deprives Colombia of carbon sinks and emits greenhouse gas emissions. Remember, cutting trees releases CO2.

     As climate change, greed and a surging global demand for meat and other Colombian resources drive deforestation; deforestation drives climate change. Moreover, deforestation independently increases the likelihood of desertification, which once more incites deforestation. Here, we are seeing a loop of intertwined factors continuously amplifying each other. Only action and activism can stop the cycle. But the activists are being slaughtered.  

      

     Violence for Hire

     The heart of Colombia’s conflict has always been land. Now, climate change is pumping more blood into that heart. As competition for land heightens, cattle ranchers, palm oil producers banana growers and other rural giants are increasingly hiring individuals from the drug cartel and right-wing neo-paramilitary group AGC. The AGC members are paid to intimidate threaten and kill community leaders who dare to defend their own land.

     

     Illustrations of Temistocles Machado, María Yolanda Maturana, Mario Jacanamijoy Matumbajoi, Maria Efigenia Vásquez Astudillo, Sandra Yaneth Luna, Luis Hernán Bedoya Úzuga, Diana Patricia Mejía Fonseca, and José Abraham García. They are part of the group of 442 social leaders assassinated between Sept 2016 and March 2020. Illustrations taken from the website of the project PostalesParaLaMemoria.com

      

     The Meta Department

     At the intersection of the Amazon, the Andes and vast low land plains, the Meta Department is home to large scale cattle ranching, petroleum and the precious resource coltan. As such, it is the 7^th most dangerous Department in all of Colombia for land rights defenders.

     

     Translated from Spanish, this mural from La Macarena reads “I was censored all this time. Used, beaten, violated – an object of discarded violence. Now, I break free!”

     The town of La Macarena, in Meta has been hit especially hard. To protect the earth, Erley Monroy Fierro spearheaded the Losada-Guayabero Environmental Campesino Association (ASCAL-G). As a result, he was murdered. On the way home from Monroy’s funeral, fellow activist Hugo Cuéllar was killed. After that, the town lost Didier Losada Barreto to environmental violence. The list goes on. And on.

     Yet, the people of La Macarena are resilient. They are the grandchildren of those displaced in waves from colonialism and La Violencia. They’ve survived FARC kidnappings and extrajudicial killings; in their soil rests an estimated 2,000 unidentified bodies. The people of La Macarena have lived through flooding so severe a national emergency was called, and drought so intense, their river closed. Yet, the people of La Macarena protect the earth. This community, constructed by war, will not be displaced again.

      

     The Unsung Heroes

     Unfortunately, members of the AGC are not the sole perpetrators. Rumors of FARC, ELN and even state-sanctioned assassins abound. The violence is epidemic. Colombia is the deadliest country on earth for environmentalists. Last year, more environmentalists were murdered across the globe than ever before. Over half of the killings occurred in either the Philippines or Colombia.

      

     We must understand that in protecting the Amazon, these brave grassroots leaders are protecting all of us.

      

     Experts warn that further Amazon recession would likely cause dire, global consequences. The forest stores a baseline of 100 billion tons of carbon and single-handedly eats 5% of total emissions annually. Moreover, “the water evaporated from Amazon trees absorbs energy when it evaporates – cooling the planet just as people are chilled by evaporating water when they are wet.” Thus, the Amazon acts as a pseudo AC system for the planet.

     

     Cover of report, “Defending Tomorrow: The climate crisis and threats against land and environmental defenders” published by Global Witness on July 29th, 2020

      

     We have a responsibility to back land rights defenders, such as Nidia Becerra who has received hundreds of death threats, who was shot, who now wears a bulletproof vest in public, who has been forced to relocate often, and who reaffirms that climate activism and indigenous activism are intrinsically linked. Make no mistake, Nidia is saving the world. We must fight for Nidia because she has put everything on the line for us.

      

277. Summer news digest – Supporting Community Leaders During COVID-19

     July 30, 2020 12:31 pm Leave a Comment

     Summer news digest – Supporting Community Leaders During COVID-19

278. A Global Playbook to Invest in People with Disabilities

     July 27, 2020 2:42 pm 2 Comments

     

     Full of energy: at the GDPU centre in Gulu, Uganda.

      

     According to a Human Rights Watch report from 2018, over one billion people in the world live with a form of limited mobility, which is about 15 per cent of the world’s population (“UN: War’s Impact”).

     In places where poverty, violence, and conflict reign, the rate often increases to as high as 18 to 20 per cent. For example, another report published in 2014 by the Uganda Bureau of Statistics states that the proportion of Ugandans aged five and older living with a disability was 14 per cent. However, in the northern Acholi region that includes Gulu, the figure was raised to 17 per cent (“Persons With Disability”).

     https://denmarkapoteke.com

     This is a result of twenty years of war in northern Uganda. The Human Rights Watch report explains that, as the conflict occurs in a particular country or region, the number of people who live with a disability will rise as a result of the following: violence, crumbling infrastructure, lack of access to healthcare, psychological stress, and increased poverty that exacerbates existing inequality in the society. These factors additionally make it nearly impossible for those who already live with a noticeable condition to become self-reliant.

     Considering that concerns about inequality have been at the front and centre of many international organizations for social impact, investors wallets guide about investments to help people with disabilities achieve their potential have been minuscule. Whether it is in industrialized or third-world countries, if society wants to help those with limited mobility to become valuable contributors to the world economy, I would argue that economic development and education should be viewed as two vital instruments that can bring that about.

     Why can economic development be a crucial tool when it comes to not only reducing the incidence of disability in a community but also improving the opportunities available to those who live with existing conditions? One reason is that economic stability promotes better education, and thus helps nations or communities to develop institutions that enable people with disabilities to obtain a formal education. Moreover, a more stable economy will allow for better infrastructure, not only in the area of healthcare but also in the form of better transportation systems that ensure that those with disabilities can travel safely and become more independent.

     Despite the economic disparity that continues to exist in wealthy countries, people with physical and mental conditions tend to do better in these places given that the justice system enables members of this group to report discrimination and make their voices heard through advocacy organizations or movements.

     For example, in 2017, I had an issue with the LSAC, the organization that administers the Law School Admission Test, refusing to accept various letters of accommodation that I submitted for the exam, which could be considered a violation of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA).  After they refused to cooperate, I contacted the National Federation of the Blind (NFB) and the American Council of the Blind (ACB), and they immediately contacted the LSAC.  Knowing the power of these organizations, within three days, the LSAC did grant me accommodations for the exam.

     The power of such organizations would not be as strong in a country suffering from deep economic instability and conflict as they are in the United States, where the US economy has allowed the country to produce a justice system more equipped to serve the public. This has given advocates in the US the means to pressure certain institutions so that laws on the books that give rights to people with disabilities can be respected. Where there are widespread poverty and conflict, there are fewer resources available to meet the needs of the whole community. Those who live with a physical or mental condition are too often among the first to be completely left behind.

     Ultimately, the only real way to address this injustice is for multilateral organizations, such as the United Nations, European Union, Organization of the American States, African Union, and others, to form a worldwide entity and collectively design a playbook and budget. This plan would provide economic resources to assist people with disabilities in education, employment, and investment in micro-enterprises as well as larger businesses.

     Moreover, this playbook should contain provisions that allow multilateral organizations to push heads of states to pass and enforce protective laws and take more concrete steps in their respective countries to integrate those with disabilities in the full spectrum of civilian and government affairs.

     Although implementing this proposed approach in countries with deeply rooted economic challenges will be difficult, I believe that a worldwide organization can serve as a support mechanism to bridge the inequality gap between people with noticeable conditions and the rest of their communities.

279. COVID-19: My Experience of COVID-19

     10:21 am 2 Comments

     

     My COVID- 19 experience began with the suspension of my MA classes at the Centre for Peace and Conflict Studies in Siem Reap, Cambodia. When the South Asian countries came to the consensus to lock down and suspend international flights within the region, our institution decided to also suspend our classes. So, I had to return home without the completion of the first module of my MA.

     I was not that eager to return to Nepal for two reasons behind it. First I wanted more interactions with fellow peace practitioners /instructors. Secondly, I was worried to stay with my old parents; who are highly vulnerable to the virus and I could be a potential carrier of the virus to them. But I had no options.

     I was in home quarantine for 14 days once I get back home. Even after the 14 days, I was not much confident to go around the family members, then on the 23rd day of my home quarantine, I had a COVID-19 test report, and it was negative. That brought some relief.

     As a young learner/graduate student, my plans and excitements for 2020 were terminated by COVID-19. After being engaged in field-based activities in the last five years, COVID-19 forced me to take a long vacation like everybody else. It brought about dullness in my daily life.

     But when I compare myself with other Nepalese youth who are in a worse situation than myself, I find myself to fortunate and realize that I was lucky to get back home at an appropriate time. One of my colleagues Sadia Chaudhary was stuck in Bangkok Airport for a week because of a lock-down imposed by the Pakistani Government. Thousands of Nepalese people are trapped in the Gulf or along the Indo-Nepal border. Even in the big cities, people are struggling to earn money.

     Coronavirus does not distinguish between rich and poor, black and white, left and right, first world or third world. Every nation (excluding a few States with exceptional Governance systems like New Zealand) is harshly affected by the pandemic.

     But unfortunately, COVID-19 came on top of an existing system of differing capabilities, distribution of wealth, income, and access to amenities. The responses towards the crisis were made according to the capabilities of individual states. Countries like India and Nepal had a single solution – lock-down, even though this has had a serious livelihood impact on the millions of people without economic security.

     For example, the daily wage workers lost their means to bread. Thousands of migrants from Nepal in India were working in hotels and tourism-based enterprises which are now shut down. They lost their jobs. They were even unable to return to their homes and had to wait for a month in very unhygienic living conditions in the Indo-Nepal border, waiting for the government’s response.

     The situation in the gulf is more painful. Hundreds of thousands of young Nepalis are working in the Middle East. They live a terrible life anyway and were unable to get back to home in this crisis. Hundreds of corpses of people living abroad could not be brought back for cremation. People who returned from abroad had to face the humiliation from the community even after they self-isolated. Farmers lost the markets. Dairy products were thrown out onto the roads. Daily wage workers were forced to walk back to their home districts barefoot and with small kids.

     The entire world is indeed suffering. Everyone is struggling to overcome this crisis, but the severity is different in different parts of the world. In Nepal, most people face two options – die of disease or die from hunger.

     The severity could be minimized if the State had taken an appropriate response at the appropriate time. The government in Nepal tried to respond but has not been effective.

     What if the State had rescued the migrant workers returning from India instead of blocking them in the border? They would not have tried to avoid the government provision of self-quarantine and test and would not have contaminated the communities with infections.

     What if the government had proper test equipment and expanded test centers? It would have isolated the infected individuals from social interactions.

     What if local governments were given the resources and responsibilities to secure the livelihood and travels of the people in their constituencies instead of spending ten billion rupees centrally? Prevention would be more effective.

     What if the government would have timely initiated the rescue flights to bring its citizen back home? The migrant workers in foreign countries would feel the warmth of parenthood when they needed it.

     COVID-19 has brought me back to the farm, with my family that I have left many years ago. It has allowed me to realize the realities of poverty and the aspirations of farmers who are working very hard but still not been able to lift themselves.

     Nepal has a very primitive market for processed agricultural products and this has been further damaged/handicapped by COVID-19.

     Development experts and economist claim that agricultural production will increase in the post-COVID-19 era. But my experience from the Chitwan district – a key supplier of agro-products to the capital Kathmandu – is completely different. Local farmers are tired of not knowing if they will sell their products. They describe themselves as “unemployed.”

     Young people who do possess land in my area and who are of my age have told me that they have already applied for a passport and would prefer ti go to the Gulf countries instead of continuing agricultural works. They do not see their future in Nepal.

     “Young people in my area and who are of my age have told me that they do not see their future in Nepal.”

280. My Father’s Dream

     July 21, 2020 1:50 pm 4 Comments

     Over the past few months of the pandemic, I have reflected on the years of my own  personal pandemic caused by enforced disappearances. Looking back, the journey has been long and hard. It is like a horror movie. 

     Nineteen years ago on December 31, 2001 my beloved father Tej Bahadur Bhandari, 56, disappeared after being arrested by security forces from the streets of Besisahar and taken to the district headquarter of Lamjung, He was handcuffed, blindfolded, heavily tortured and pushed to the ground. My father was a dreamer, educator, and cultural activist, well known in local communities. He was a school teacher for more than three decades and worked to transform local communities through schools, arts and culture.

     

     A dreamer and his son: Tej Bahadur Bhandari (right), a respected former teacher and campaigner for social justice, disappeared in Nepal on December 31, 2001. His son Ram has never stopped demanding an explanation.

      

     My father’s dream was kidnapped with him by state-sponsored security forces. He has never been seen again, but his dream is still alive with me.

     What happens when a family member is lost not to death or relocation, but to an enforced disappearance?  How do the people left behind cope with that loss and move on?  

     These questions have been part of my personal life for years. From 1996 to 2006 Nepal was ravaged by a civil war between Maoist rebellion and State forces.  The country suffered a great deal of material and infrastructural damage. But more importantly, the citizens of Nepal have been left with a great psychological burden brought about by ten years of nearly constant conflict. 

     Some victims were thought to be sympathizers of the Maoists as they moved through small villages. Others were viewed as State supporters. Whatever the reason, these people disappeared and to this day no information has been revealed regarding their whereabouts or what happened to them. The actual number of victims is several times higher than the published figure when one considers parents, spouses, friends and young children that will never know a parent.

     Often it was men that were taken, robbing a family of its breadwinner and source of income. The disappearances also robbed the surviving family members of the opportunity to conduct appropriate burial rights and rituals that are culturally important to Hindu families.

     As of today, there has been no comprehensive account of these events.  It is very important to tell the stories of the disappeared citizens and celebrate their memory. But the story of how their families have changed and adapted since the loss must also be told. 

     I became involved in the search for my father after he was forcibly disappeared on December 31, 2001. I still recall the clothing that he wore that fatal day. It was a light grey shirt, half sweater, and black pants. He also carried a golden color watch. Each detail gives me a small visual memory of a father whose fate still remains unknown.  

     A forcible disappearance acts as a double form of torture and suffering because victims are kept ignorant of their own fate, while family members are deprived of knowing the whereabouts of their loved ones. In Nepal many families went through habeas corpus cases, but the court dismissed them for lack of evidence or because presiding judges remain loyal to the offending regime. We do not yet have full accountability. The government’s attempt to forget, and to provide amnesty to the perpetrators, has created new conflicts and tensions in communities.

     I personally went through all the entire process and have achieved nothing in my search for the truth about my father. Gradually, I became engaged in the victim rights movement and have spent the last two decades working for the families of the disappeared. It’s a very personal cause for me and I never imagined how hard the fight would be. But the world has not done enough to acknowledge the suffering of the families, or listen to them. We have to tell our stories to the world, reorganize, and prepare for a long battle to keep the voices of the families alive. 

     I remember and commemorate all of relatives of the disappeared who have fought for social justice, access to education, equality and expansion of democratic spaces—like my father. The state authorities can never compensate for the absence of our disappeared relatives. But they can listen our voices, address our needs and stop the cycle of violence and re-victimization of survivors.

     As I continue on my journey I am optimistic that we will some day find answers and justice. I dream of a world without disappearances.

     “What happens when a family member is lost to an enforced disappearance?  How do the people left behind cope with that loss and move on?”

281. International Development, Anti-racism and Black Lives Matter – Part 2: Reparations

     July 20, 2020 3:59 pm 3 Comments

     

     Image from Kathmandu Post, “Foreign aid and statebuilding,” by Namit Wagley, 2018.

     In my last blog, I wrote about some of the ways in which racism underpins much of international aid and development policy. I’ve been thinking and reading more about what international aid agencies can do to address and reverse global inequalities that are the result of centuries-long exploitation of the Global South. Here, I wanted to share some of my thoughts and the articles I’ve come across on reparations and international relations.

     Reparations are often framed in terms of compensation or corrective policies that a government or other official body undertakes to address systematic abuses committed against a group of people. In the US, reparations for descendants of enslaved people has gained (some) traction in recent years, and last week the city of Asheville, North Carolina passed reparations measures which, although falling short of providing direct payments, are aimed at promoting homeownership and business opportunities for Black residents. (If you are not familiar with Ta-Nehisi Coates’ 2014 piece on reparations, I would highly recommend giving it a read. Also, it’s summer: eat ice cream and read Ben & Jerry on Reparations.)

     In light of the global BLM movement, European activists are also demanding that their governments address, reconcile and repair their brutal colonial pasts and legacies. Last week, Belgian King Philip sent a letter to DRC President Felix Tshisekedi expressing regret for Belgium’s bloody rule of the colony under King Leopold II, during which period as many as 10 million people were killed. In June, the Belgian Parliament approved a truth and reconciliation commission that will investigate the enduring impacts of the country’s colonial legacy in its former colonies, which include the DRC as well as Rwanda and Burundi. While these are important first steps, many activists—including Princess Esmeralda, a descendant of King Leopold II—have called for further reparation measures, such as revising the way Belgium’s colonial history is taught in schools and committing to fair trade policies.

     

     A statue of King Leopold II is removed in Antwerp, Belgium.

     Thus, we are seeing a broadening of the reparations framework as it is applied to foreign relations. Such discussions of reparations also include canceling debt accrued by countries in the Global South and implementing fair trade policies. These kinds of reforms would attempt to redress the ways in which colonial legacies manifest today as, for example, exploitative practices by multinational corporations that profit off of resource extraction from countries where large portions of the population live in poverty and lack access to basic services.

     In the international development sector, Priya Lukka, a development economist at Christian Aid, argues that reparations include challenging the widespread acceptance that poverty is a natural phenomenon and acknowledging the ways in which today’s vast global inequalities are the result of centuries’ worth of plunder, exploitation and enslavement by predominantly Western governments in Africa, South America and parts of Asia. Between 1500 and 1800, over 100 million kilograms of silver were mined and shipped from South America to Europe, financing much of the industrial revolution. Had that silver been invested in 1800 at the historical average interest rate of 5%, Jason Hickel notes, it would be worth $165 trillion today; by my own calculations, that amount could pay off Latin America’s 2019 external debt 70 times over. Canceling debt as a form of reparation should not sound so radical after all. (Hickel discusses in greater detail massive European extraction programs and the largescale displacement, genocide and enslavement of indigenous populations.)

     So, what role do INGOs, development agencies and charity organizations play in reparations? Lukka calls on INGOs to play a strong lobbying role for progressive approaches to development by offering counternarratives to dominant theories and practices of international aid—and also coming to terms with the fact that these theories and practices that have not been successful in reducing poverty around the world. Cancelling accrued debt for developing countries, she argues, is a first and important step, and could be counterbalanced through a wealth tax.

     INGOs should also question and challenge why they have come to be such a massive—and profitable—global industry. Paradoxically, if aid organizations were successful in alleviating poverty and inequality around the world, then we should see these organizations reduce in number and size over time. This is not the case, however. One way to address this, as has been proposed elsewhere, is by shifting the power away from large international aid organizations directly to local civil society organizations and removing conditions and strict evaluation requirements for how aid money is spent. This could also allow many aid recipients and local organizations to reclaim the agency that has been stripped from them through tight regulation and monitoring of their expenditures and program outputs.

     At a more short-term and micro-level, INGOs must do more to provide reparations for immediate harm caused by its personnel and programs. Organizations should hold themselves to higher standards of external accountability, especially to those whom they claim to support. This means that when staff from INGOs and IGOs engage in directly harmful practices or negligence that results in harm, the organizations should not attempt to cover it up by quietly firing the offender; rather, they should publicly acknowledge the harm inflicted and take steps to repair the damage, such as through compensation or healthcare for the survivors. They should also cooperate with local law enforcement to ensure that their staff—including and international staff—are not immune from criminal proceedings in more extreme cases.

     A reparations approach to international development provides a useful framework through which to understand and improve development theory and practice. Much of my summer fellowship with the National Network of Families of the Disappeared in Nepal (NEFAD) is related to reparations and transitional justice, and I will have a few more blogs on these topics specifically dealing with ongoing challenges for conflict survivors in Nepal.

     *********

     Rest in Power, Representative John Lewis. May we bear your legacy unwaveringly & continue getting into “good trouble” to advance global justice.

282. Mask of Empowerment

     1:21 pm Leave a Comment

     Mask of Empowerment

283. “I Could Not Attend My Uncle’s Funeral”

     July 17, 2020 7:50 pm 4 Comments

     

     Emma and Josh, 3.

     As a mother of a child, living during this pandemic is unlike anything else. We stay in a very congested place within Pece division, Gulu municipality. Taking care of my 3-year old son is a challenge. There are so many people living within the same compound. Children are not allowed to mix and play together. The situation has become very ugly to me. I am, like, “Oh God when will this whole drama be done?”

     When the government declared the lock down I became even more confused. One day I thought of driving off to my village with my son to go stay there for a while. But then I looked at the situation again from a different aspect. For example, I thought: what if my boy needs medical attention? At the same time, I am diabetic and I may also need some medical attentions. What was going to happen? All the private and public transport had been stopped. So I just decided to remain calm at my house, come what may. Life has to continue amidst the pandemic.

     “Oh God, when will this whole drama be done?”

     Life has become very expensive in Gulu. The price of beans has gone up to 7,000 Ugandan shillings ($1.90) a kilo, from 3,800 ($1.02). A packet of salt has doubled from 1,000 ($0.27). Sugar has gone from 3,500 ($1.00) to 4,500 ($1.2). Our landlady is putting pressure on us to pay rent. But everybody is just staying home, doing no business. Even my side business – a cosmetic shop which used to support my family on a daily basis – has been closed.

     Social gathering at the public places like church, traditional ceremonies, weddings, meetings have all been stopped. I lost my uncle but I could not even attend his burial because public transport and private cars were not allowed to operate. Bicycles are allowed, but I cannot ride very far.

     One day our landlady told me that she doesn’t want to see any child playing in the compound. This also stressed me out because I have a stubborn boy who also wants to jump around the compound. I had to close the door and remain inside, watching cartoons on television. Life has become so boring. It’s even worse when there is no electricity, because at least when there is power you can watch television and see our president addressing the nation and giving out new updates and directives.

     Everyone within our compound has started putting water and soap in front of their houses. When The Advocacy Project came out with the idea of mask production, we mobilized some women with disabilities to start the work. This helped to restore my hope, and helped me to see something positive in the situation. I realize that persons with disability can still do something despite the pandemic.

     “The (Mama Cave) mask production has restored my hope and helped me to see something positive in the situation.”

     The pandemic has also improved my hygiene. I must not forget to put hand-washing facilities in front of my house, I always travel with my hand sanitizer in the bag, and never forget to put on a mask whenever I am going to a public place like market.

     Now that GDPU and AP have started liquid soap training, I have learnt how to mix the chemical. Soon, I will be able to train more young people with disabilities so that they can learn the skills and the knowledge needed to produce liquid soap. This will help them to earn a living during the pandemic and live dignified lives in the community.

284. “I have no doubt you’re a very nice person. However…..”

     July 14, 2020 8:25 pm 3 Comments

     “Based on my interactions with you during the past few weeks, I have no doubt that you are a very nice person.However, after thinking about our conversation a few days ago, I don’t think I can go out with you.If you want me to be blunt, it’s because you are blind.For one, I enjoy car racing, and two, I enjoy going ziplining, and I don’t think you are capable of doing either of these.”These are the words that were said to me by a dear friend in 2018.Do you think I should feel sad, perplexed, or angry?How would you feel?Well, I said to myself, “This is sad – not because the words were directed towards me, but because of the way society in general views individuals with a noticeable condition.”  I don’t believe that my friend’s words necessarily characterize her as a bad person or insensitive.Perhaps she was brave in saying that directly to me, as opposed to applying the philosophy of being politically correct by hiding the truth of society’s perception of what a person who is blind can or can’t accomplish.This experience is a vivid indication that, despite multiple laws on the books that try to bridge the inequality gap for those who live with a noticeable condition in the United States, many people’s behavior is informed by an implicit bias which leads to the marginalization of that population.Although most are afraid to overtly acknowledge their bias for fear of appearing rude or offending someone, they may automatically assume that a person with a disability cannot maintain a level of competitiveness in social activities or intellectual stimulation, or worry that their peer group may reject them. https://hrvatskafarmacija24.com/originalna-viagra-100mg-bez-recepta.htmlThis reaction is not universal among all people; nevertheless, one should pause and ask why stigma against individuals with disabilities so commonly provokes such a reaction.In order to find a possible explanation, it is vital to travel back to the beginning of America to paint a more complete picture of how people with disabilities have been treated throughout the nation’s history.According to an article that was posted on the ADA’s website to celebrate the 26^th anniversary of the law, during colonial times, family members were the only ones responsible for caring for relatives with disabilities.Consequently, some families used to “hide or disown their disabled members or allow them to die” (“ADA – Findings, Purpose, and History“).Around the 1820s, institutionalization or “warehousing” of those with disabilities started to become more widespread.These institutions were not designed to enhance the ability of individuals with noticeable conditions to gain independence and productivity, but instead served as a form of imprisonment and isolation which further prevented their interaction with the rest of society.People who ended up in such circumstances, moreover, commonly suffered from abuse and neglect rather than receiving the protective care that was stated as the ultimate goal.This brief historical context parallels, in crucial ways, other forms of institutionalized inequality that have placed certain subsets of the American population at a lasting disadvantage.Ultimately laws on the books can bring some changes, but true change requires deeper soul-searching by members of society so that we might individually examine and address the roots of our prejudices.As humans, any of us at any time is susceptible to experiencing a disability, whether it is physical, mental, or emotional; therefore we should not operate under the assumption that having a disability implies that a person is fundamentally inferior.Referring back to the anecdote I related at the beginning of this post, I promised my friend that we would remain close while acknowledging that she should have a boyfriend who could take her ziplining and car racing.What she did not know, however, was that ziplining is one of my favorite outdoor activities.A few months after that conversation, I invited her to join me on a particularly strenuous ziplining course.To reach the platform, we had to climb five sets of increasingly difficult obstacles, which I managed with no issue.She eventually had to give up, and it was there that she discovered not to judge a book by its cover.While I will acknowledge that living with a disability comes with some challenges, it does not preclude a person from sharing interests and skills with others who do not have the same condition.Often, instead of inhibiting the development of skills, it allows people like us to become more creative so that we can adapt to the settings where we find ourselves.

285. Climate Change and Conflict in Meta, Colombia: Coca Cultivation

     July 12, 2020 10:46 pm 4 Comments

     I. Flooding

     Weather historian Christopher Burt claims that Puerto Lopez in Colombia’s Meta department is the wettest place on earth.

     Indeed, this time last year, grey water from the Guaviari, Ariari and Guaybero rivers surged through the streets of the Meta department taking homes and lives. The flooding ravaged more than 13,000 families and 21,000 hectares of agriculture. The relief effort, which included repairing a highway between Bogotá and the eastern plains, was stalled for weeks as landslides inundated roads. As a result, virtually one third of Colombia was cut off from the rest of civilization.

     This week, heavy rains are once again causing sudden flooding and mudslides in Meta. People are fearing the worst. So far, 92 families have been impacted.

     

     II. Drought

     Due to climate change, violent deluges of rain are becoming both more common and intense in Colombia. Yet, the global phenomenon is also making dry seasons hotter, longer and more severe – even in the Meta Department. How is this possible? Instead of mild variation in weather in which rainfall and sunshine are predictably interspersed, we’re seeing a rise in extremes interrupting extremes.

     Moreover, climate change heightens the impacts of El Niño and La Niña (ENSO), which dramatically increase and decrease precipitation patterns at different points of the ENSO cycle. Indeed, droughts in the Meta department have created the conditions responsible for raging forest fires and the spread of dengue fever.

     

     III. Agricultural Insecurity: Coffee as a Case Study 

     Both drought and heavy rain are catastrophic for many farmers. For example, drought reduces not only coffee production, but also the size and density of coffee beans. Because yields of this quality are not adequate for export, coffee growers are forced to sell to the local market. This necessitates lower prices. The combination of depressed yields and slashed prices is economically devastating.

     However, it was brief deluges of rain that enabled leaf rust to thrive, almost killing Colombia’s $2.6 billion coffee industry in 2008.  Leaf rust is caused by the hemileia vastatrix fungus, which needs 24-48 hours of continuous heavy rain to infect a plant. While there is no cure to leaf rust, there are new varieties of rust-resistant coffee crops. Unfortunately, it takes three years for said trees to mature. Thus, only the wealthy – able to afford three years sans coffee income – can adapt.

     

     IV. Resilience of Coca 

     More generally, most crops favor specific temperature and precipitation patterns. Climatic deviation from these patterns therefore threatens agricultural livelihoods. Yet, according to the Scientific America, cocaine will survive climate change.

     Due to an elaborate root system, the coca crop is relatively resistant to flooding – especially when compared to other crops commonly grown by peasant farmers in the Andes, such as maize, yucca, plantains, and peanuts. Moreover, a heavy wax cuticle shields coca from water loss, making the crop able to withstand drier periods.

     The resiliency and high value of coca in tandem with the falling profitability of legal agricultural activity make coca cultivation alluring. One farmer laments, “legal crops don’t bring any income and I have a family and need to provide for them. The coca makes it possible for me to send my children to school.”

     

     V. Conflict

     Today, Colombia produces more coca than ever. In January 2020, the government resumed plans for aerial glyphosate fumigation of coca, which has been linked to liver disease, birth defects, reproductive problems and even cancer. However, according to Colombia’s High Commissioner for Peace, replanting occurs at a rate of between 50 and 67 percent.

     In February, two soldiers were killed after trying to clear out communities living in La Macarena’s nature reserve in the Meta department. The soldiers, at the behest of the environmental ministry, claimed the communities were “deforesting to sow coca.” The locals, however, decried that the military was “trying to evict them from plots where they had been living for decades.” After the confrontation, a forest fire broke out.

     

     In June 2020, roughly 50 US soldiers were deployed to Colombia in order to to stymie drug production and trafficking. That same month, Meta’s Omega Joint Task Force – now receiving assistance from the US soldiers – injured six peasants in an attempt to carry out forced coca eradication.

     Colombia’s peace is ever fragile. Although climate change continues to plunder agricultural security, rural reform is at a standstill. The siren song of coca cultivation is growing. As such, the ingredients for conflict are ripe.

      

286. Disability is not disabling – quite the reverse

     July 4, 2020 8:46 am 4 Comments

     Since the beginning of humankind, it has always been evident that each individual is born with unique strengths and weaknesses.  Those traits can manifest in a broad range of forms, including the physical, cognitive, and emotional.  In school, for example, there are those who are strong in subjects such as mathematics, physics, chemistry, and biology, while others are strong in subjects dealing with social sciences, humanities, and language. Seb Academy inspiring young individuals to channel the competitive streak in them to develop their non-academic potential to the fullest in secondary and tertiary education.  Some who are naturally strong in certain areas may be comparatively weak in other areas.

     Given the technological world that we live in now, an individual who has trouble grasping complex math might be at a disadvantage when it comes to obtaining lucrative jobs in certain industries.

     Nevertheless, these individuals – who probably make up a very large proportion of us – are not labeled by society as “disabled” and do not suffer the consequences of the stigma attached to the label.

     According to the Merriam Webster and Oxford dictionaries, a disabled person is defined as someone with a level of limitation due to a physical or cognitive condition, which results in difficulty using a part of one’s body or learning.  Considering that every human being lives with some innate limitations, why does our society feel the need to identify and stigmatize those with certain noticeable conditions?

     Considering that every human being lives with some innate limitations, why does our society feel the need to identify and stigmatize those with certain noticeable conditions?

     To begin to answer that question, one might apply two possible explanations.  First, a lack of awareness leads the vast majority of our society to view those we have deemed “disabled” as possible liabilities and thus fail to recognize everything that these individuals can offer.  Fear of the perceived liability prevents many from taking the time and effort to allow these people a chance to prove themselves as valuable friends, partners, and professionals.

     For the many individuals who do not have the experience or exposure to teach them otherwise, the inaccurate belief that those with disabilities are less capable or self-sufficient leads into a second explanation.  As social beings, we often identify with the experiences of others and consequently avoid or shun anything that reminds us that our own sense of autonomy could possibly be compromised.  These explanations do not suggest that those who live with a disability will not require extra accommodation from society.  However, the need for accommodations should not imply that these people should be treated as disabled or, to use the French term, “invalide.”

     Those who are called “disabled” because they require some form of accommodation tend to be as productive, if not more productive, than those society deem “normal.”

     Those who are called “disabled” because they require some form of accommodation tend to be as productive, if not more productive, than those society deem “normal.”  In the book Disability: The Social, Political, and Ethical Debate, compiled by Robert M. Baird, Stuart E. Rosenbaum, and S. Kay Toombs, John Hockenberry details in an essay how, despite his paraplegic condition, he was able to “walk with the Kurds” while reporting in Iraq after Desert Storm.During his prior international assignments, Hockenberry had used a wheelchair, but his experience while traveling with the Kurds was different.The rugged, mountainous terrain made it impossible for him to use his wheelchair, so he rode on the back of a donkey, which he described as his “first steps in fifteen years.”These first steps did come with a set of challenges, given that the donkey’s downward movement on the mountain trails and the shaky, muddy ground made it necessary for Hockenberry to exert additional effort to balance himself.His description suggests that the donkey itself, at one point, became tired or frightened by the unstable ground and didn’t want to move any further with the crowd of refugees and reporters across a narrow rope bridge.The animal eventually bolted towards a patch of grass, making Hockenberry fall off of its back.In spite of this tumultuous episode, Hockenberry was able to secure his reporting equipment and signal to his colleagues that he was fine while they looked on with concern.With assistance, he managed to cross the bridge, reach his wheelchair, and get the job done with no harm to himself or burden to his fellow reporters.

     https://koupitedpilulky.com

     The label of “disabled” is a mindset that some members of society have promoted to discourage a particular group of people from believing in themselves and thus avoid holding institutions responsible when they fail to provide reliable alternatives that allow this group to fully participate.

     Ultimately life comes with a set of challenges and setbacks for every person, and one can infer that John Hockenberry’s example shows how despite limited mobility, as humans we were naturally born to face obstacles, and that is how we grow and become more mature in our professions as well as our personal lives.  Therefore the label of “disabled” is a mindset that some members of society have promoted to discourage a particular group of people from believing in themselves and thus avoid holding institutions responsible when they fail to provide reliable alternatives that allow this group to fully participate.

     Hockenberry’s example, like those of many others who live with a physical or mental condition, suggests that the ability to contribute to the betterment of society does not rest solely on one’s physical mobility, but rather depends on one’s capability to use his or her mind both strategically and intellectually to overcome whatever limitation that life might cause that individual to experience.

     The ability to contribute to the betterment of society does not rest solely on one’s physical mobility, but rather depends on one’s capability to use his or her mind both strategically and intellectually

     In the weeks to come, I will continue to address this issue by drawing from examples to illustrate that those who live with a physical or mental condition are major problem solvers because life allows human beings to think competitively about everything that we do, and our survival depends on our ability to adapt and compete successfully.  I will further demonstrate that, when society chooses to educate its citizens about a matter, that often results in better solutions for coping with the issue.  This concept should be applied when it comes to diminishing anxiety about opening opportunities to those who live with a disability.

287. The Brave Trio!

     8:18 am 3 Comments

     

     From left: Faruk, Emma and Patrick manage the Gulu Disabled Persons Union and are much respected in Gulu.

     Seeing these three outside of the Gulu Disabled Persons’ Union office, I wish more than ever that I could be in Uganda this summer to witness them in action.  The work that they are doing will not only positively impact their organization’s own members, but can serve as an example for others in the world to follow.

     My first three weeks of this fellowship have increased my motivation to encourage people from all parts of life to dedicate time and effort to making a difference.  Having learned about the three individuals in this photo, I can confidently say that they have the academic achievement and the potential to pursue any lucrative career path just for the sake of economic success. At the same time, their passion to bring change leads them to strive to create opportunities for people whom their society unfairly disregards.

     Ojok Patrick, for example, holds a diploma in education and a degree in public administration.  His educational background, along with his career experience, could easily qualify him for a government position, but instead he chooses to work with nonprofit organizations to make a real difference in people’s lives.

     As the coordinator of GDPU, Patrick is committed to working tirelessly to ensure that the laws that are on the books in the Gulu District to protect those who live with a disability are implemented.  While I haven’t had the privilege to meet him in person, Patrick and I have been in frequent communication over the last few weeks.  He is a gentleman – smart, and very thoughtful. He enjoys raising domestic animals including birds and dogs. And we discovered that we share a love for soccer.  Patrick’s knowledge, experience, and leadership have already become apparent to me during the short time I’ve known him, and I feel that I can draw from his example throughout my future career in public service.

     The next individual that I had the chance to participate in virtual meetings with is Ajok Emma.  In addition to holding a bachelor’s degree in community based rehabilitation, Emma has a career background in organizing and education.  Prior to becoming the Assistant Coordinator for GDPU, she has participated in research on public health and disability advocacy and has cooperated with teachers and parents to create more inclusivity in schools for children with disabilities.

     Emma has a variety of hobbies such as traveling, touring, and cooking which easily connect her with other human beings.  Although she does not have a disability herself, Emma is determined to contribute to narrowing the opportunity gap that disadvantages disabled people in the Gulu District.  Her deep commitment is evident from her continuing work on the WASH project as well as her involvement in the two new projects that GDPU and AP have undertaken to address the economic impact of the COVID-19 crisis on the disabled community, the production of Clean Wash liquid soap and Mama Masks.

     Musema Faruk, meanwhile, was inspired to study special needs education and earn a bachelor’s degree in social works and community development after witnessing the discrimination that his friends with disabilities went through during their childhood.

     He has been with the Gulu Disabled Persons Union since 2014, with the exception of the seven months in 2019 that he spent attending a leadership program for social visionaries in India.  With GDPU, he has served as a guidance counselor and offered skills training to youth with disabilities, as well as worked as a project assistant for the WASH project.

     A soccer player and fan, Faruk also started the Ability Sports Africa initiative to support the participation of children with disabilities in sports and physical education, and he currently coaches the Gulu Deaf Football Club.  Faruk’s hard work is preparing a new generation living with disabilities to embrace life with more optimism and confidence so that these youths can fight for their rights in society and become the leaders of tomorrow.

     These impressive individuals are a source of inspiration for me, given that I, too, live with a disability, and I believe that their efforts in the Gulu District will yield valuable and priceless contributions.  Uganda experienced twenty years of war that finally ended in 2006, meaning that Patrick, Emma, and Faruk grew up in the midst of this turmoil that resulted in large economic disparities.

     As I continue to hear their stories and experiences of moving forward in a post-conflict setting, I believe that we in the West have a moral obligation to continue to strengthen the work that they are doing on the ground.  The world is a global village, and injustice that affects one person can carry repercussions for all of us no matter how far away we live.

288. In Appreciation of Our Malian Sister Artists

     June 26, 2020 2:39 pm Leave a Comment

     In Appreciation of Our Malian Sister Artists 

289. International Development, Humanitarian Aid, Anti-racism and Black Lives Matter [Part 1]

     June 22, 2020 11:59 am 6 Comments

     

     UN Photo/Albert González Farran

      

     Over the last few weeks, the murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Ahmad Aubrey, among many others, have brought discussions of anti-racism, systemic racism and white supremacy to the fore of social media, politics and the press. National outrage and mass mobilization have led state and city governments across the US to adopt resolutions to reform, restructure, defund and potentially dismantle police departments, and there appears to be a national reckoning with just how deeply entrenched racism is in all aspects of American society.

     As a student of international affairs who spent three years working in and alongside development and humanitarian aid agencies in northern Ethiopia, I have been grappling with how racism, anti-racism, white supremacy and white fragility shape the study and practice of international relations. Just as mainstream conversations have highlighted the ways in which the legacies and origins of US policing in slave and labor patrolling continue to uphold a racist status quo in the present day, I have been trying to understand the ways in which racist attitudes that were used to justify the Slave Trade and later colonization by Western states continue to permeate the study and practice of international development and humanitarian aid today. Here, for my first blog post, I want to share some of the literature I have been reading on these topics as well as some of my own thoughts and observations.

     There have been, unfortunately, numerous instances of overt racism in the development sector, but we rarely hear about or discuss how racism is embedded in the structures of foreign assistance. In her op-ed “International development has a race problem,” Angela Bruce-Raeburn, a former senior policy advisor with Oxfam, writes:

     “Inherent in the very concept of aid is race and racism because only in this system can majority white societies with ample resources determine what poor black and brown people need, how much they need, set up the parameters for delivery of what they need, and of course create an elaborate mechanism for monitoring how well they have managed the donated funds to meet their needs.

     How many hours have we willingly offered to the mind-numbing monitoring and evaluation tools created in headquarters, without local input, to assuage donors that local aid organizations are diligent stewards of the generous taxpayer dollars of mostly white donors in the developed world?

     As a result, the very people who are in need of the help that development aid is designed to elevate are stripped of agency over their own lives, normalizing dependency in their own eyes.”

     Elsewhere, Bruce-Raeburn has written about how a failure to understand power dynamics, sexism and racism has contributed to the persistence of sexual abuse and exploitation in the development sector (I encourage everyone to read more of her writing).

     

     Image: Sophie Williams, Author of Millennial Black.

      

     As INGOs enter countries to fill the gaps left by “weak” or “failed” states, we often fail to examine what has caused these states to fail, or why, for that matter, “statehood” came to be something we value and measure in the first place. Little attention is given to the fact that colonial powers left behind institutions that were never meant to be democratic, and often were enforced through violent, coercive and racist policies. We may also fail to notice that the very presence of international aid agencies might be contributing to the weakening or displacement of the state, as they act as substitutes for local government agencies by providing services such as healthcare, water, food and education, all of which are heavily branded with the emblems of INGOs and foreign donors. Governments in the West have reduced bi-lateral aid under the pretense of corrupt government officials and mismanagement on the receiving end, without recognizing the harm that these (often racist) assumptions perpetuate. It has also been well documented that foreign assistance, particularly in the form of food aid, can actually cause more harm to local livelihoods by inflating the prices of local commodities.

     To be fair, many INGOs have adopted and integrated Do No Harm principles to minimize the risks they pose to host communities, but some might argue that this hasn’t been enough to address deep underlying structural inequalities entrenched in the international system.

     At the end of her op-ed, Bruce-Raeburn outlines recommendations for international development and aid agencies to confront systemic racism, including committing to diversity at all levels of organizational leadership, allowing those affected by racism and sexism in development to design the safeguarding systems that are meant to protect them, and ensuring that there is meaningful consent and buy-in of aid recipients at all stages of program design and implementation. As students, it is important that we critically engage with and question the status quo of international development and how it is taught. I have included below a list of resources that I have found enlightening as I grapple with these questions, and I hope readers will post their thoughts, responses and any additional resources. I intend to continue this discussion in my next few blog posts, including a discussion of post-colonialist theories of IR, knowledge and language as sites of power, and the issues surrounding human rights discourse and international criminal justice.

      

     Resources:

     Angela Bruce-Raeburn’s Devex Op-Eds

     No White Saviors

     Population Works Africa

     This podcast on Consent in Development

     This podcast on feminist monitoring and evaluation practices

     Also, a plug for my colleagues at Fletcher who are working on the 3^rd Decolonizing International Relations Conference, which will be held virtually in November.

290. Challenging COVID-19 in Uganda, with Flair and Ingenuity

     June 20, 2020 1:21 pm 4 Comments

     

     Mama Cave, mask-maker and entrepreneur

     While many members of our society express outrage because of indifference among some of our leaders with respect to injustice and inequality, people living with disabilities around the world have been facing those injustices for centuries.  Consequently, during the past few decades, leaders such as Ted Kennedy and John McCain in the United States Congress have worked to put laws on the books in order to mitigate the economic disparity affecting Americans who live with disabilities.

     Following the American example, the United Nations ratified the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities at its New York headquarters on December 13, 2006, hoping to push leaders and governments to create opportunities and viable conditions for citizens with disabilities in their respective countries.

     In some third-world countries, specifically, vulnerable people have suffered abuses both from family members and from others in their communities.  To address this problem, in 1995 the Republic of Uganda added a provision to the Ugandan Constitution that protects the rights of people with disabilities on the national and local levels.

     

     Patrick and Mama Masks at the GDPU

     Nevertheless, while this constitutional provision counts for affirmative action and creates equal opportunity for Ugandan citizens, economic disparity has continued.  The laws protecting Ugandans living with disabilities exist on paper, but they have not been implemented in practice, leaving this community one of the most vulnerable in the country.  These economic disparities persist not because citizens with disabilities are incapable of contributing to society, but instead because members and leaders of their communities fail to give them a chance to prove themselves.

     My own experience as a person who lives with a disability, along with my fellowship, solidifies my passion to advance the fight to educate society so that people with disabilities can be acknowledged as valuable citizens and contributors to their communities.  The two pictures above are a clear indication of how valuable citizens with disabilities can be when given the chance to contribute positively.

     The Gulu Disabled Persons Union, in partnership with the Advocacy Project, was looking for ways to help save lives after COVID-19 sent the whole world to quarantine.  As a result, GDPU members, including a group of disabled tailors, put together the Mama Masks Project.  The masks follow the guidelines of international health standards so that people in the Gulu district, which encompasses the second-largest city in Uganda, can have a way to protect themselves when they have to step out of their homes.  Additionally,  GDPU is training approximately a half-dozen individuals to produce liquid soap so that the community can have these necessary products available to protect itself against the novel coronavirus.

     The Mama Masks and liquid soap initiatives show that, if given the opportunity, citizens with disabilities can produce resources that benefit all citizens while creating a path that can allow them to sustain themselves economically.  This example should apply worldwide so that people with disabilities can have vital support in the areas of education and accommodations in the workplace and receive equal consideration when applying for jobs in the private sector.

     Reflecting on my past two weeks with AP and the conversations I have had with Ojok Patrick, the director of the Gulu Disabled Persons Union, there is a lot of work to be done in Uganda as well as in developed countries such as the United States.  Thus I appeal to everyone who believes that society should unite so that we can fight against inequality of any kind.

291. Rejecting Normal

     June 18, 2020 4:40 pm 3 Comments

     An Imperfect Ally

     I came of age during the Occupy Wall Street movement. At first, many media outlets labeled the protests silly. The Daily Show, for example, spent a whole segment discussing the bathroom logistics of Zuccotti Park. But the New York government must have felt threatened because Mayor Bloomberg deployed hoards of police to “clean up” the area. Police brutality was ongoing as law enforcement utilized batons, mace, fists, rubber bullets and boots to silence the movement. While black protestors were hit especially hard, it was a bloodied, white face that garnered national attention.

     

     Art by Molly Crabapple, created during the Occupy Movement

     As an ignorant 16-year-old living in a suburbia some thirty minutes away, I’d never thought about white privilege. At the time, I didn’t know that black skin could be a death sentence. I didn’t know about the prison-industrial complex, that my town was the result of white flight or even that much of my high school faculty was overtly racist. During Occupy Wall Street, I watched my country disregard black pain and I stayed silent.

     I am not a perfect ally. In the words of Angelica Alzona, “I-in my whiteness, my relative economic comfort, my blind spots and areas of ignorance – have surely offended and impeded someone else.” Still, it is my responsibility and the responsibility of all allies to continuously strive to do better. It is not enough to march, donate and post. All white folk are beneficiaries of racism. As such, fighting racism necessitates that white people partake in persistent self-reflection and active listening. Allyship is a lifelong process.

     Beyond the Protests 

     In New York City this past week, a cop drove his car into a crowd of protestors. Tear gas spread through the streets, rubber bullets flew and police beatings were caught on camera. Those arrested are being denied masks, food and water. In other words, the NYPD is continuing its reign of terror. Shown by the stories of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Tamir Rice, Michael Brown, Tony McDade, Atatiana Jefferson and so many others; police violence is not tied to protest or unrest. Rather, it is an unyielding and seemingly timeless epidemic. Moreover, the racism in our penile legal system doesn’t stop at arrest.

     A Boy Named Ron

     Black men and people of color are not only more likely to be convicted of crimes than their white counterparts, but also are more likely to be strapped with longer and more extreme sentences. For example, controlling for crime, black people are disproportionately charged with felonies. In my college, there was a white boy who grew weed. We’ll call him Ron. Ron was caught and suspended, able to return to university a year later. Ron served no jail time and his record was wiped clean after he completed probation. Had Ron been labeled a felon, as many marijuana growers are, he would’ve lost the right to vote and would have faced employment discrimination. He may also have missed out on years of education due to imprisonment.

     

     ACLU.org

     Ron was given the benefit of the doubt. People said he was a good kid, just a little lost. The consensus was that this 19-year-old’s life would amount to something and that derailing Ron’s path would therefore be cruel. Most black children, teens and adults are not given the same respect. They are imprisoned and killed for much less. Explicit and implicit biases cause people to view black folk as threatening. Today, roughly 6 million Americans can’t vote due to felony status. This includes some 33% of the African-American male population.

     A Brief and Incomplete Plea for Police Abolition 

     

     Photo from Glitter Magazine

     Our legal system is unjust. Abolishing the police is the first of many necessary corrective steps. In the past 40 years, the price of policing has tripled, reallocating funds from other necessary public works and community building activities. For example, the police department budget in LA comprises more than 50% of the city’s general fund. In the budget for 2020 alone, the LAPD is slated to receive 260% more than housing has in the last decade. Moreover, the mayor has actually decreased the budget for Housing and Community Investment despite the “homeless crisis” and the fact that a whopping 55% of LA residents are unemployed. While those who work in Housing and Community Investment are on furlough due to covid19’s impact on city revenue, LAPD officers with college degrees will receive an additional $41 million in bonuses.

     

     “My Son is Black” by Lex Marie (@thelexmarie on Instagram)

     It is important to note that many police officers do not live in the communities they serve. The goal of police abolition is not anarchy. Rather, it is to divert police funding to multiple community-based “safety, support and prevention” initiatives. Standard police training is just 21 weeks, yet police are demanded to deal with everything from domestic abuse to counter terrorism to hospital runs. This is both dangerous and unsustainable. More targeted and specifically trained agencies are necessary. Moreover, crime rates are lowest in high resource communities. Thus, initiatives that increase access to opportunity, education, housing and food are likely to decrease crime.

     The Tired Generation

     Right now, we are advocating for swift and dramatic changes to our legal system. However, racism extends beyond these issues. The fight will continue into tomorrow and the day after and so forth for decades if not centuries. In my life, I’ve seen movements rise and fall. When the 2011 protests (Occupy, Greece, the Arab Spring, etc.) ended in, at best, business as usual, hopelessness took control of many. I am part of a bitter generation that has lived through the War on Terror, the War on Drugs, the opioid epidemic, two global recessions, climate change and a pandemic. For us, the end of the world is easier to imagine than the fall of unfettered capitalism.

     I’m not sure that I believe Martin Luther King Jr.’s words: “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.” However, I know there is no moral choice, but to try to make this world better. So roll up your sleeves. We’ve got work to do.

     

     Sources: 

     https://jezebel.com/becoming-ugly-1789622154

     https://news.uga.edu/total-us-population-with-felony-convictions/

     https://www.sentencingproject.org/publications/6-million-lost-voters-state-level-estimates-felony-disenfranchisement-2016/

     https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2020/jun/05/defunding-the-police-us-what-does-it-mean

     https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2020-06-04/lapd-budget-cuts-garcetti-protests-explainer

     https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2020/jun/10/new-york-city-protesters-detained-abysmal-conditions#_=_

     https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2020-04-17/usc-coronavirus-survey

     https://la.curbed.com/2020/6/2/21277088/defund-police-los-angeles-lapd-budget

     https://www.nytimes.com/2016/08/19/us/when-police-dont-live-in-the-city-they-serve.html

292. Pandemic Weakens Legal Protections for Victims of Domestic Abuse in the U.S.

     June 8, 2020 10:06 am Leave a Comment

     Newport, Rhode Ialand, June 8: The COVID-19 pandemic is making it harder to provide legal protection for victims of domestic abuse in the state of Rhode Island even as cases of abuse have surged.

     A recent press release from the Rhode Island Coalition Against Domestic Violence (RICADV) reported that the number of restraining orders issued against abusers during April fell by 46 percent over the same period in 2019.

     At the same time, the release noted a 40 percent increase in calls to help lines operated by the coalition’s five member agencies in April. Some 599 callers requested emergency shelter.

     Agencies had been bracing for a surge of domestic abuse as couples and families were subjected to the strains of shelter in place and barred from seeking support through friends, day care or school.

     “We were watching and hearing the reports. We knew this was coming,” said Jessica Walsh, Executive Director of the Women’s Resource Center (WRC), a RICADV member agency that covers nine cities and towns in the Newport area.

     Anticipating the surge, the agencies stepped up their ability to respond remotely through help lines. Many appeals had been coming in by email, said Ms. Walsh.

     Restraining orders offer a legal remedy to victims wishing to separate from abusive partners.  Agencies and law enforcement officials suggested that the decline has exposed the challenge of providing legal protection at a time when two of the state’s four district courts are closed, and the physical movement of victims and abusers is sharply curtailed.

     Ms. Walsh said her team at the WRC will help a caller to apply for a restraining order, but that the plaintiff must then appear in person before a judge in another courthouse which is handling Newport cases during the lock down. In normal times the journey takes about an hour.

     But it was never going to be easy for a victim to leave an abusive partner whose suspicions may be aroused, and spend an entire day seeking an order said Ms. Walsh. “It’s an intimidating process even when it’s not a pandemic. COVID-19 has added additional layers of barriers,” she said.

     There is, in addition, the fear that a judge would not issue an order, which might leave a victim open to reprisals when he or she returns home. If a restraining or no-contact order is issued, it is not clear where the suspect will go without violating stay at home requirements.

     All of these factors will be weighed by a fearful victim trying to decide whether to seek legal protection, said agency officials.

     The same concerns were echoed by Lieutenant April Amaral, the community police liaison officer at the Newport Police Department, who said that the Newport police had responded to 16 cases involving domestic abuse between April 1 and May 27. This was down from 21 interventions during the same period last year.

     Ms. Amaral said the police are obliged to make an arrest if they find a probable cause of abuse. The perpetrator is then held in custody until a justice of the peace or judge can issue a no-contact order and set a date for a hearing, which can take several weeks. In the meantime, the suspect must stay away from the victim.

     “Where would they (suspects) go? I don’t know,” said Amaral. “It is hard to say how many cases have not been acted on. It might be from a fear of reprisal or insecurity about money if the abuser is earning and the victim is not working.”

     The RICADV press release also expressed concern at the availability of emergency shelter and temporary housing for victims. Ms. Walsh said that the state government had provided funds for emergency shelter and that this had doubled the number of available beds. But the press release described this as a “temporary solution to a long-term problem.”

     “We must invest in long-term solutions that support survivors and their children to find and maintain a healthy and safe home, including rental subsidies, emergency rent and mortgage assistance,” said the release.

     Ms. Walsh declined to predict whether a loosening of the lock down will lead to more complaints or restraining orders when the Newport court reopens on September 8. The important thing, she said, is that victims know that services will be available in the meantime.

     “We want them to know that we’re here for them,” she said.

     ‘”It’s an intimidating process even when it’s not a pandemic. COVID-19 has added additional layers of barriers.”‘
     

      

     This blog was first written for the Newport (Rhode Island) online newspaper.

293. A Community Teacher Chafes at Distance Learning, Pines for her Students

     May 14, 2020 9:53 am Leave a Comment

     

     Before the lockdown: Lisa on a school outing to the Secret Garden, which raises funds for arts education. Top photo: Lisa’s students admire the Maasai Girls Quilt in 2016.

      

     Newport, Rhode Island, May 14: I first met Lisa Olaynack, an English teacher at the Thompson Middle School in Newport in 2016, when she invited me to her class for a discussion about girls’ education in Kenya.

     At the time The Advocacy Project was working with the Kakenya Centre for Excellence, a pioneering boarding school for Maasai girls in western Kenya that will only admit a girl if her parents reject genital mutilation. Parents were getting the message and the practice has been declining.

     Kakenya’s school – like the Thompson school in Newport – is a wonderful example of how local schools interact with the communities they serve. But several recent conversations with Lisa suggest that this bond may be fraying badly as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic.

     I turned to Lisa partly because she and I are neighbors under lockdown and partly because she fits everyone’s idea of a public school teacher – always in motion and always thinking about the welfare of her students. I told her that she reminded me of the Energizer Bunny. “Maybe” she replied, “but this bunny has a heavy heart.”

     The last six weeks have left Lisa feeling exhausted, anxious and inadequate. She has three children to care for at home, and a sister and brother-in-law who are battling the virus. But most of all, she is missing her students. After over twenty years of teaching at Newport schools, this is her lowest point yet.

     *

     Lisa is one of five teachers at the Thompson School who work with a cluster of 85 students, aged 11-14. She has special responsibility for 22 of them. Like teachers around the world, she is wondering how to grade Distance Learning after six weeks of trial and error.

     Some things are going better than expected. In a thoughtful recent interview Colleen Jermain, the Superintendent of Newport schools, estimated that 90% of Newport students are checking in online. This squares with Lisa’s own experience. On average, nineteen of her 22 students are logging in to attend her Google classroom every morning. Lisa also agrees that after the initial “shock and awe” the technology has lost most of its terror.

     Distance Learning may even help to bridge the “digital divide” between students from high and low-income families. Before the lockdown, eleven children in Lisa’s cluster of 85 had no access to the Internet at home. After prodding from Gina Raimondo, the governor of Rhode Island, Cox Communications agreed to provide free WIFI to families with a student at home, and to boost the signal until July 15. Schools have also purchased devices that let students link their smart phones to computers.

     Distance Learning has forced Lisa to innovate. She records herself reading a story aloud every day, interspersed with her own comments (“think aloud”) and has come to rely heavily on the programs ReadWorks and Kahoot , which her students love. She is currently reading from Count Me In by Varsha Bajaj, a sparkling book about two children who denounce a hate crime on social media. The author will read the last two chapters and chat with Lisa’s class next week. Best of all, Lisa feels a deep sense of camaraderie with the other core teachers in her clusters.

     *

     All of this is laying the foundation for a new approach to teaching post-COVID-19. So why the heavy heart? The answer is simple – separation. Students and teachers are in mourning. “They need us and we need them,” she says.

     Lisa is also tormented by questions. Her students may check in but do they do the work? How is the crisis affecting single parent and undocumented families? Is Distance Learning adding to the stress? Worst of all, is the bond between her and parents damaged beyond repair?

     These questions are particularly urgent because the three public schools in Newport, including Thompson, serve some of Rhode Island’s neediest communities. Newport is better known for mansions than poverty, but according to one respected survey 1,698 (42%) of all children in the city live in single-parent families; 790 (23.3) live below the federal poverty threshold; a quarter need food aid; and fifty-five have a parent in prison. Scores of families are undocumented.

     Lisa’s cluster of 85 children at Thompson offers a mirror image of this community. About 20% of her students are high achievers, while about the same number struggle with language, learning disabilities, behavior disorders and emotional challenges.

     As well as an academic education, school offers a safety net to these children and their parents. Lisa ticks off the benefits: “Nutrition (breakfast and lunch); structure, values, friendships and the chance to compete on equal terms.” She is excited about the diversity in her class. When I visited, her students came from 14 countries and several Native American tribes. It hasn’t changed much since then. “A bit like a mini United Nations,” she said. “We love them all.”

     As with all teachers, this has created a bond between Lisa and her families. “They trust us and they entrust us with their children,” she says. She is happy to accept the responsibility.

     COVID-19 has changed this. Single mothers suddenly find themselves out of work and under lockdown with several children. Distance Learning has simply added to the stress, said Elizabeth Fuerte, who heads civic engagement for the Newport Health Equity Zone, an initiative to strengthen neighborhoods. “Imagine that you are living in a single room with four kids.” she said. “What chance do you have to cook, care for the kids and help them with homework?”

     The crisis has not only separated teachers from parents, but changed their roles. “I hear from parents it used to be the teacher’s job to teach and the parent’s job to raise,” said Ms Fuerte. “Now parents are doing it all, at a time when they are under so much pressure.”

     Language barriers add to the confusion, said Rebekah Gomez, a co-founder of Conexion Latina Newport, a grassroots organization that supports Hispanic families in the city. “The technology is difficult enough to learn if you speak English. We’re asking parents to become teachers in a language they don’t understand.”

     At school itself, physical separation has made it impossible for Lisa to monitor the progress of her students – one of her most important tasks. Before the lockdown, Lisa met with her 22 core students twice a day. This allowed her to spot problems and refer them to specialists on the staff.

     Distance Learning, in contrast, gives Lisa few opportunities for live interaction with students. She holds two live Google Meets for her 85 cluster students a week and typically draws around 20, but these are opportunities to socialize rather than check up.

     Without the face to face connection it is hard to tell how many students are even doing the work, let alone how well they are doing. Lisa posts assignments online at the start of each day but finds that only about half have handed in work by the end of the week. She assumed that it was her fault until she learned that colleagues were coming up with similar numbers.

     Lisa does what she can to follow up. She meets regularly to compare notes with the other teachers in her cluster, and refers worries to the Dean and guidance counselors. She herself then follows up with phone calls and messages. Occasionally, she will experience a moment of “pure joy” when a parent breaks silence. But few of her calls or emails are answered.

     *

     Looking ahead, the rougher edges of Distance Learning will no doubt get smoothed out. Grading is likely to remain a challenge, but Governor Raimondo has promised that no child will fail. With more at stake, final exams for older and graduating students could be harder.

     From her own perspective, Lisa would like to see more social and emotional support for teachers, students and parents during and after the lockdown. This may be difficult, given that funding for schools will likely fall sharply with the recession, as Dr Jermain pointed out in her podcast. One way to improve monitoring would be to collaborate more closely with community partners like Conexion Latina Newport, which work in the communities and know the families.

     The absolute priority, says Lisa, must be the emotional needs of students. It is hard to know what impact four months of lockdown will have but Lisa herself worked for several years in juvenile justice and talks with dread about the “school to prison pipeline.” Others warn of PTSD. Teachers will no doubt be on the lookout for the telltale signs – low grades, depression and acts of truancy – once the schools reopen.

     And Lisa’s grade for herself and Distance Learning? A pass, but only just.

     ‘I told Lisa that she reminded me of the Energizer Bunny. “Maybe” she replied, “but this bunny has a heavy heart.”‘

      

     This  blog was first published in the Newport (Rhode Island) online newspaper

294. A Community Teacher Chafes at Distance Learning, Pines for her Students

     9:34 am Leave a Comment

      

     

     Before the lockdown: Lisa on a school outing to the Secret Garden, which raises funds for arts education.

     I first met Lisa Olaynack, an English teacher at the Thompson Middle School in Newport in 2016, when she invited me to her class for a discussion about girls’ education in Kenya.

     At the time The Advocacy Project was working with the Kakenya Centre for Excellence, a pioneering boarding school for Maasai girls in western Kenya that will only admit a girl if her parents reject genital mutilation. Parents were getting the message and the practice has been declining.  

     Kakenya’s school – like the Thompson school in Newport – is a wonderful example of how local schools interact with the communities they serve. But several recent conversations with Lisa suggest that this bond may be fraying badly as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic.

     I turned to Lisa partly because she and I are neighbors under lockdown and partly because she fits everyone’s idea of a public school teacher – always in motion and always thinking about the welfare of her students. I told her that she reminded me of the Energizer Bunny. “Maybe” she replied, “but this bunny has a heavy heart.”

     The last six weeks have left Lisa feeling exhausted, anxious and inadequate. She has three children to care for at home, and a sister and brother-in-law who are battling the virus. But most of all, she is missing her students. After over twenty years of teaching at Newport schools, this is her lowest point yet.

     *

     Lisa is one of five teachers at the Thompson School who work with a cluster of 85 students, aged 11-14. She has special responsibility for 22 of them. Like teachers around the world, she is wondering how to grade Distance Learning after six weeks of trial and error.

     Some things are going better than expected. In a thoughtful recent interview Colleen Jermain, the Superintendent of Newport schools, estimated that 90% of Newport students are checking in online. This squares with Lisa’s own experience. On average, nineteen of her 22 students are logging in to attend her Google classroom every morning. Lisa also agrees that after the initial “shock and awe” the technology has lost most of its terror.

     Distance Learning may even help to bridge the “digital divide” between students from high and low-income families. Before the lockdown, eleven children in Lisa’s cluster of 85 had no access to the Internet at home. After prodding from Gina Raimondo, the governor of Rhode Island, Cox Communications agreed to provide free WIFI to families with a student at home, and to boost the signal until July 15. Schools have also purchased devices that let students link their smart phones to computers.

     Distance Learning has forced Lisa to innovate. She records herself reading a story aloud every day, interspersed with her own comments (“think aloud”) and has come to rely heavily on the programs ReadWorks and Kahoot , which her students love. She is currently reading from Count Me In by Varsha Bajaj, a sparkling book about two children who denounce a hate crime on social media. The author will read the last two chapters and chat with Lisa’s class next week. Best of all, Lisa feels a deep sense of camaraderie with the other core teachers in her clusters.

     *

     All of this is laying the foundation for a new approach to teaching post-COVID-19. So why the heavy heart? The answer is simple – separation. Students and teachers are in mourning. “They need us and we need them,” she says.

     Lisa is also tormented by questions. Her students may check in but do they do the work? How is the crisis affecting single parent and undocumented families? Is Distance Learning adding to the stress? Worst of all, is the bond between her and parents damaged beyond repair?

     These questions are particularly urgent because the three public schools in Newport, including Thompson, serve some of Rhode Island’s neediest communities. Newport is better known for mansions than poverty, but according to one respected survey 1,698 (42%) of all children in the city live in single-parent families; 790 (23.3) live below the federal poverty threshold; a quarter need food aid; and fifty-five have a parent in prison. Scores of families are undocumented.

     Lisa’s cluster of 85 children at Thompson offers a mirror image of this community. About 20% of her students are high achievers, while about the same number struggle with language, learning disabilities, behavior disorders and emotional challenges.

     As well as an academic education, school offers a safety net to these children and their parents. Lisa ticks off the benefits: “Nutrition (breakfast and lunch); structure, values, friendships and the chance to compete on equal terms.” She is excited about the diversity in her class. When I visited, her students came from 14 countries and several Native American tribes. It hasn’t changed much since then. “A bit like a mini United Nations,” she said. “We love them all.”

     As with all teachers, this has created a bond between Lisa and her families. “They trust us and they entrust us with their children,” she says. She is happy to accept the responsibility.

     COVID-19 has changed this. Single mothers suddenly find themselves out of work and under lockdown with several children. Distance Learning has simply added to the stress, said Elizabeth Fuerte, who heads civic engagement for the Newport Health Equity Zone, an initiative to strengthen neighborhoods. “Imagine that you are living in a single room with four kids.” she said. “What chance do you have to cook, care for the kids and help them with homework?”

     The crisis has not only separated teachers from parents, but changed their roles. “I hear from parents it used to be the teacher’s job to teach and the parent’s job to raise,” said Ms Fuerte. “Now parents are doing it all, at a time when they are under so much pressure.”

     Language barriers add to the confusion, said Rebekah Gomez, a co-founder of Conexion Latina Newport, a grassroots organization that supports Hispanic families in the city. “The technology is difficult enough to learn if you speak English. We’re asking parents to become teachers in a language they don’t understand.”

     At school itself, physical separation has made it impossible for Lisa to monitor the progress of her students – one of her most important tasks. Before the lockdown, Lisa met with her 22 core students twice a day. This allowed her to spot problems and refer them to specialists on the staff.

     Distance Learning, in contrast, gives Lisa few opportunities for live interaction with students. She holds two live Google Meets for her 85 cluster students a week and typically draws around 20, but these are opportunities to socialize rather than check up.

     Without the face to face connection it is hard to tell how many students are even doing the work, let alone how well they are doing. Lisa posts assignments online at the start of each day but finds that only about half have handed in work by the end of the week. She assumed that it was her fault until she learned that colleagues were coming up with similar numbers.

     Lisa does what she can to follow up. She meets regularly to compare notes with the other teachers in her cluster, and refers worries to the Dean and guidance counselors. She herself then follows up with phone calls and messages. Occasionally, she will experience a moment of “pure joy” when a parent breaks silence. But few of her calls or emails are answered.

     *

     Looking ahead, the rougher edges of Distance Learning will no doubt get smoothed out. Grading is likely to remain a challenge, but Governor Raimondo has promised that no child will fail. With more at stake, final exams for older and graduating students could be harder.

     From her own perspective, Lisa would like to see more social and emotional support for teachers, students and parents during and after the lockdown. This may be difficult, given that funding for schools will likely fall sharply with the recession, as Dr Jermain pointed out in her podcast. One way to improve monitoring would be to collaborate more closely with community partners like Conexion Latina Newport, which work in the communities and know the families.

     The absolute priority, says Lisa, must be the emotional needs of students. It is hard to know what impact four months of lockdown will have but Lisa herself worked for several years in juvenile justice and talks with dread about the “school to prison pipeline.” Others warn of PTSD. Teachers will no doubt be on the lookout for the telltale signs – low grades, depression and acts of truancy – once the schools reopen.

     And Lisa’s grade for herself and Distance Learning? A pass, but only just.

     ‘I told Lisa that she reminded me of the Energizer Bunny. “Maybe” she replied, “but this bunny has a heavy heart.”‘

295. BIOGAS IN QUANG BINH

     April 23, 2020 6:17 pm Leave a Comment

     When former North Vietnamese soldier Dao Thi Thuyen lost her leg during an American bombing raid in 1968, she considered her life ruined. The prospect of an agrarian life in Quang Binh countryside without a limb was bleak.

      

     
     Ms. Dao Thi Thuyen, biogas beneficiary

      

     Unable to afford purchasing heating oil, Ms. Thuyen spent every day of the following 46 years of her life gathering and chopping enough dried wood to cook food and boil water for her family. These duties were made more difficult and time consuming by two forearm crutches she uses to walk. Everyday struggles like this are common among persons with disabilities (PWD) in Quang Binh, the majority of whom live in rural areas lacking accessible infrastructure. Predominantly poor, Quang Binh’s PWDs are unable to afford the devices and services available to PWDs in developed countries.

     One month ago, Ms. Thuyen’s life changed. Due to a grant from the Association for the Empowerment of Persons with Disabilities (AEPD), Ms. Thuyen was able to afford the installation of a biogas system that converts the excrement of her pigs into fuel. As one of the program’s beneficiaries, Ms. Thuyen no longer must spend hours every day gathering and chopping wood. She told me that since her propane gas system was installed, she’s gotten some pressure off her back.

     Ms. Thuyen’s biogas system is one of 45 AEPD is installing throughout Quang Binh Province in central Vietnam. Funded by French donor organization Zebunet, AEPD disburses biogas grants of approximately 7.155 million Vietnamese Dong (d) ($350) to qualifying rural households headed by persons with disabilities. The remaining cost of installing a biogas system is covered by beneficiaries, raging from 1.145 million d ($50) to 12.200 million d ($250) depending on the number of pigs a household intends to keep.

      

     
     Mr. Dao Van Thuan demonstrates his biogas powered stove

      

      

      

      

      

     Dang Huy Thau, the Vietnamese government official overseeing the installation of the biogas units, told me that biogas has led to a dramatic improvement in quality of life for AEPD grant recipients. The use of biogas can mean the difference between subsistence living and the ability to save money. Aside from the economic benefits of producing essentially free fuel, the biogas units also serve to hygienically dispose of livestock waste, which decreases air pollution and the incidence of airborne disease.

     I heard similar sentiments from aid beneficiaries, who told me that the smell of feces had limited the number of pigs their neighbors would allow them to keep. Ms. Thuyen says that her neighbors now visit her home to examine her biogas system and are impressed, wanting similar systems for themselves. She plans on purchasing more pigs now that the smell of their waste is no longer an issue. In the poor Quang Binh countryside, the ability to house even a half dozen more pigs can significantly increase a household’s income.

      

     
     Biogas has allowed Mr. Dao Van Thuan to keep several more pigs

      

     The spread of biogas throughout Quang Binh brings with it a sense that local actions are linked to global efforts to improve the environment. To receive biogas funding, AEPD requires beneficiaries to attend a training that, aside from instructing participants on how to use their biogas systems,  explains how using alternative energy sources combats climate change and deforestation. This discussion of biogas’ role in the larger effort for environmental sustainability has not been lost on aid recipients.  When I asked beneficiaries to describe the benefits of their biogas systems, they all began by telling me that biogas cleans the air and decreases the use of oil, which is good for the environment.

     The value of biogas has already been recognized by more affluent rural Quang Binh residents, who are buying biogas systems out-of-pocket faster than local firms can supply them. Provider Ha Van Toan told me that even installing two or three biogas systems everyday he wasn’t able to keep up with local demand.

     If this year’s program is a success, AEPD will try to find funding to continue providing biogas grants to Quang Binh’s PWD community.

      

     
     Mr. Dao Van Thuan stands next to the biogas tank in his backyard

      

      

296. US Agencies Struggle to Protect Resettled Refugees Against COVID-19 

     12:49 pm Leave a Comment

     Newport, Rhode Island, April 23: In 1996 Laura, 51, fled a brutal civil war in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), which has been described by the UN as “rape capital of the world.” After spending 21 years in a refugee camp in Tanzania, Laura was accepted for resettlement in the US. She arrived in Providence, Rhode Island, with three children and a grandchild in February 2018.

     Now, after two years of struggling to adjust to a new life in the US, Laura is battling the COVID-19 crisis.

     Her problems are piling up. On March 26, Laura lost her first real job at a hotel in Newport. She is being asked to pay $900 to cover rent in April. She does not know if she qualifies for unemployment benefits or for relief under CARES (the Coronavirus Aid, Relief, and Economic Security Act) which sends $1,200 to families that earn less than $75,000 a year.

     Laura said she had received some paperwork in the mail but she does not read or speak English.

     “(Laura) was vulnerable before COVID-19,” said Clement Shabani, a former refugee from the Congo who lives and works in Providence. “She is doubly vulnerable now.” Mr Shabani and his wife co-direct a nonprofit organization, Women’s Refugee Care, that currently works with 256 refugees from East Africa, including Laura.

     Laura – who asked that her real name not be used for this article – told her story recently by phone from Providence. Mr Shabani interpreted from Swahili to English.

     Mr Shabani said that marginalized people are particularly in need of care at this time – a view that is widely held among relief agencies. But others who commented for this article argued that the COVID-19 crisis spares no one. This, they said, makes it much harder to make the case for preferential treatment even for refugees.

     *

     Laura is among 3,177 former refugees who have arrived in Rhode Island since January 2000, according to statistics from the US Department of State. (The total number accepted by the US is 983,004). Adjusting to life in the US has not been easy, even before COVID-19.

     The resettlement of refugees in Rhode Island is managed on behalf of the US federal government by the Dorcas International Institute in Providence. Anne Fortier, who heads the resettlement team at Dorcas said her agency expects to work with about 75 refugees this year. The last family arrived in early March.

     Ms Fortier said that the full resettlement of refugees can take up to 5 years, but that the process starts on arrival. Families receive around $1,200 of federal funding a month through Dorcas for three months, during which time they are expected to look for an entry level job and strongly encouraged to take English language classes.

     Mr Shabani and his wife both found work within three months and won scholarships to the Rhode Island College in Providence before establishing their non-profit in 2015. But Mr Shabani said they had been helped by having learned English in Thailand before coming to the US.

     In sharp contrast, Laura came to the US without English and failed her English language exam after a year of classes because, she said, “I did not go to school at home in Africa.” According to Mr Shabani, Laura knows only two English words – “Thank You.”

     Mr Shabani described the 3-month deadline as “unrealistic” and said that less than a third of the 61 refugee families that he works with managed to find a job soon after arriving, in spite of a strong economy. As a single mother from Africa, Laura was bound to find it difficult, he suggested.

     *

     After failing to find work within three months, Laura continued to receive $500 a month through Dorcas until the end of the year, at which point the pressure to earn money became intense. She was hired by Beautiful Day, a Providence-based organization that employs refugees to produce and sell granola and is a familiar presence at farmers’ markets in the Newport area.

     Late in 2019, Dorcas secured work for Laura and five other Congolese refugees at the Chalet Navy Hotel in Newport. Dorcas has found jobs for about 175 immigrants and refugees in the state since July 1, but Brian Hull, who heads the employment team at Dorcas, said he had been particularly pleased at the hotel’s offer.

     “I am utterly grateful to every employer that steps up to the plate and hires low-literacy immigrants and refugees – because not a lot of employers do,” said Mr Hull.

     Work at the Newport hotel was not easy for Laura. She said that her day had started at 5.30 am and that she would reach the hotel three hours later, after three changes of bus and a 40-minute walk to the hotel.

     Laura understood that she was being paid for six hours a day, but said that the hotel would usually ask her to clean about 20 bedrooms a day, regardless of how long it took and without extra pay. Her average weekly pay check was $250.

     Laura said she never learned the name of her hotel supervisor and that they communicated through “sign language” throughout the four months. Nonetheless the arrangement worked well, said Laura, because another Congolese woman who spoke some English had explained the tasks before leaving the hotel for other work.

     Neither Laura nor the agencies that work with her know whether her dismissal was due to the economic crisis. The Navy Chalet Hotel is owned by Roedel Companies, which declined to comment for this article.

     Brian Hull from Dorcas said that the dismissal of Laura and the five other refugees had come as a disappointment because his team had visited the hotel several times and was on the point of organizing language training at the hotel.

     Whatever had happened, said Mr Hull, he hoped it would not turn the hotel against refugees in the future. “It was already hard enough to find employers to hire refugees with low literacy. In a world of 25% unemployment it may become impossible. I’m terrified that the most vulnerable people in our state will suffer the most,” he said.

     Asked about the legal obligations on the hotel, Sarah Bratko, a lawyer at the Rhode Island Hospitality Association in Cranston, RI, said that US federal and state labor law generally requires employers to make information available. but not to ensure that employees understand it. She added that Rhode Island applies the At Will principle, which means that staff can be dismissed for any reason and without warning as long as the reason is not illegal.

     Evan Smith, the president of Discover Newport, which represents the tourism industry in Greater Newport, said it was hard to make a special case for short-term workers at a time when so many loyal full-time employees are losing their jobs.

     Mr Smith estimates that only 150 workers are currently employed in Newport hotels, compared to the 2,000 who normally work in the sector.

     “I have laid off 18 (out of 22) employees,” he said. “Do I care? Yes – I love my employees. Do I feel good about laying them off? No – I feel sick to my stomach.”

     But, he continued, employers have little alternative at such a time. “My job is to save the company so that I can employ people again in future.”

     *

     Back in Providence, meanwhile, Laura’s bills are piling up. She expressed most concern about a demand for $900 to cover the April rent. While evictions in Rhode Island have been suspended as long as courts are out of session, it is left to landlords and their tenants to decide whether and how rent is paid.

     This puts Laura at a disadvantage said Mr Shabani, because “voiceless people are in no position to bargain and some landlords exploit this.”

     Faced by these new pressures, the agencies have redoubled their efforts. Mr Hull said that Dorcas has established an emergency housing fund to help refugees avoid eviction. In addition. he said, the organization submitted unemployment claims for Laura and the five other Newport workers as soon as he learned they had been laid off.

     Women’s Refugee Care is currently advising its clients how to apply for federal relief under the CARES act. Several of the 61 African refugee families have already received CARES money, said Mr Shabani, but he did not know whether Laura would qualify because she has not filed any taxes as required by the law.

     Such questions are being turned over to a group of students from Brown University who are volunteering with Mr Shabani’s organization.

     These efforts underscore the value of community-based initiatives like Women’s Refugee Care, which serve as a bridge between refugees and society at large. Mr Shabani and his wife are particularly effective because they were once refugees themselves and understand the language and culture of their clients.

     For Mr Shabani and his wife, the years of hard work are paying off. The budget of Women’s Refugee Care has grown from $25,000 to $80,000, helped by 230 individual donors and a recent grant from the Rhode Island Foundation. This has made it possible for Mr Shabani to provide grants of $200 to 24 refugee families, and deliver food packages to another 16 families.

     Mr Shabani said he also calls about 8 families a day to offer advice, as he did recently when Laura was unable to refill her prescriptions at the local pharmacy. The organization posts a Swahili version on What’sApp of the daily press conference given by Gina Raimondo, the governor of Rhode Island.

     For her part, Laura expressed appreciation for the support and seemed to be in good spirits during the interview, in spite of her recent setbacks.

     Asked whether she regretted her decision to come to the US, she answered with a chuckle: “No, no, no! I have many friends and whenever it seems difficult I understand that they too are affected. That makes me feel better.”

     How to help:

      

     • Dorcas International. Contact Baha Sadr, Director of Development & Community Outreach, bsadr@diiri.org, (401) 784-8611.
     • Women’s Refugee Care. Contact Aline Binyungu abinyungu.wrc@gmail.com, (401) 808-2303; Clement Shabani cshabani.wrc@gmail.com, (401) 545-1532.

      

     This post was written from home in Newport, Rhode Island and published as a news bulletin on April 23, 2020.

297. Chhaupadi: A Mentality

     September 5, 2019 11:04 am Leave a Comment

     In recent years, menstruation has become a trendy topic in the international sphere. Period Poverty and Mindful Menstruation are the buzzwords used to remind us of how difficult menstruation is for those who don’t have access to sanitation facilities and menstrual products. International media and policy makers are talking about the importance of understanding menstruation and providing everybody, including the most vulnerable in society, with menstrual hygiene products.

     The public has also become increasingly aware of the practice of menstrual banishment, known as Chhaupadi, in Nepal. Articles and documentaries tell the tale of young women who are forced to live in terrible conditions during their menstrual cycle, kept away from their homes in a cowshed (Chhau Goth) for between four and seven days every month. The practice of Chhaupadi has the hallmark of a grave human rights violation and is therefore sensationalised by the media. Feminists and activists are up in arms about this kind of discrimination.

     In reaction to the problem, a few years ago numerous organisations and local women destroyed the Chhau Goths in which they were staying during menstruation. This was a dramatic act of rebellion against a deep – rooted cultural and historical tradition. However, the hope that the destruction of the goths would also end the practice was dashed when reports emerged of women proceeding to reconstruct the Chhau Goths, or to end up staying in even worse conditions.

     Over the course of my fellowship, I have come to realise that these techniques did not work because Chhaupadi is a not only a physical practice, but also a mindset. People believe that menstrual blood is impure, and that they must be separated from their families and loved ones in order to protect them. They are afraid of angering the gods and causing problems for their families. It therefore doesn’t mean much if they have destroyed the goth or not: what really matters, is whether they have changed the way they think of menstruation.  And changing a mindset is, of course, much more difficult than changing a physical condition.

     It is for this reason that I have come to believe fully in CAED’s approach towards menstruation. CAED trains local people (also called Model Couple Campaigners) about these issues so that they can discourage their fellow village members from carrying out harmful practices such as Chhaupadi. The logic behind this approach is that villagers will trust these locals and be more receptive to their ideas than they would be to the views of an outsider. And it works: through education and monitoring, more and more families are allowing their daughters to stay in the home during their periods. Although its not the radical, ‘quick’ solution that destroying Chhau goths promotes, its reliable and sustainable.

     Having spent 10 weeks watching the implementation of this technique, I now believe that other organisations, both local and international, should adopt this also. After all, it is only by understanding a context, its culture and its traditions, that one can begin to bring about change.

298. Rebuilding Nachola with Friendship

     August 22, 2019 2:31 am Leave a Comment

     

     In 2012 a massacre of 42 police occurred outside of the small village of Nachola, approximately 20 kilometers outside of Baragoi, Kenya.  This massacre happened for a myriad of reasons, from perceived heavy-handed policing techniques to political incitement.  Regardless of the rationale, the weight of the past remains heavy on the shoulders of the former trading village of Nachola.

     This was the setting for the Holiday Peace Exchange Program, part of the larger Children Peace Initiative and Zivik funded project in Baragoi.  One month earlier, CPI Kenya initiated its project with the Children Peace Camp in the village of Bendera, a village within the Samburu community.  The Holiday Peace Exchange was a continuation of the peace project, and now brought the children to a Turkana community. The program focused on reinforcing the friendships and providing classes on conflict mitigation.  Importantly, the program gave the student beneficiaries from the Samburu communities the opportunity to visit the homes and families of their friends in Nachola.

     

     I accompanied four pairs of friends on these home visits.  Students from Nachola introduced their new friends for peace to their parents for the first time.  While the children from the Samburu communities learned a lot about the Turkana people and their lives through these visits, I had the opportunity to assess the potential impact of the project through conversations with their parents.

     

     I started by accompanying Carolina Erupe to her home with her friend Elizabeth Leitoro (from the Samburu community of Ngilai).  After traversing a cattle path that weaved through the rocky outcropping that divided the village in half, we arrived at the house of her guardian, Samwella.  Carolina’s guardian was young, at least five to ten years younger than me, and had friendly eyes.  She quickly welcomed us in to sit at a small coffee table and spend a few minutes talking. 

     

     Samwella was, in fact, too young to remember the days before the conflict.  Despite this fact, she held no harsh feelings towards the other community and was delighted by Carolina’s new friend.  As she looked at the two friends, I felt her sincerity when she told me that she wished for things to return to the way it was in a fabled past.  Unfortunately, after less than half an hour, with our conversation was constantly interrupted by the giggling of the two friends and sensing Samwella’s impatience to return to cooking, I decided to visit the next family.

     As I backtracked over the cattle path towards the next three houses, I recalled my past conversations with local elders in Nachola.  The recent history of the village (one that Samwella and younger residents only know from nostalgia of those older than her) was one of devastating change in a short time.  In less than a year, following the intensification of inter-ethnic hostilities in 1995, all of the people of the Samburu community fled Nachola.  This exodus eventually led to ethnic segregation that persists with its unofficial line of demarcation being the main north-south road running through the town of Baragoi.

     

     I soon arrived at the house of Mike Alex.  He stood at the door with his friend Samwuel Lekuye (of Bendera village, a Samburu community) and his father aggressively waving me inside.  The house was hot, almost stifling.  I noticed a pot of potatoes boiling in the corner of the main room and concluded that must be the source of my discomfort.  After using the back of my arm to clear the sweat from my eyes, I sat down and spoke to Mr. Alex and his wife, Susan.  Mike’s father, Mr. Alex, quickly showed his excitement for the peace program.  He explained his memories of life in Nachola and around Baragoi before the conflict as “we were comfortable with each other… I could sleep at Samburu houses during long safaris and let them look after my livestock,” and believed that CPI Kenya had the potential to bring such memories back to life.

     But what caused such an integrated community to divide so violently?

     When I asked Mr. Alex why and how the situation changed so quickly, he recounted how neighborly envy and small infractions would spiral out of control.  The response was equally brief and profound, “one animal leaves, and small things build when a Samburu doesn’t return [it]”.  His answer gave me insight into his great situational awareness of the conflict as well as into his possible prejudice against the Samburu community as instigators to the conflict. 

     As I left to go visit the next house, I contemplated all the narratives that I had heard.  Despite the insights provided by Mr. Alex, I remained perplexed to how a community that remained integrated decades, if not centuries, suddenly and unceremoniously cleaved into two. 

     

     The next house was only a few paces down the main road (a rough road that clearly had not be scrapped in a couple years).  Albino Lokarach, the son of the Senior Chief, Mr. Christopher Lokarach, spotted me coming towards his house and quickly ushered me inside.  Within the house, his friend from Simiti village (a Samburu community), Stephen Leswakeri, was seated next to the chief and Albino’s mother.  They offered me a chair and a cup of tea as we began our conversation about the peace program.  Chief Lokarach excitedly proclaimed, “now we can begin to build the relationships that are necessary to return our community to how it was,” also adding, while looking at Stephen, “I have someone to give a goat, and build the connections that will allow us to grow together.” 

     While I remained inspired by the complements of the program, I couldn’t shake the question of how the village had changed to drastically.  So, following Chief Lokarach’s take on our peacebuilding efforts, I posed the question of how the conflict began.  His answer was quick and was accompanied by a smile. 

     “The politicians… to gain votes, politicians stoked the conflict.”

     Following this assertion, the Chief recalled a quote from a Samburu politician, where in a speech the politician asserted that “here is Samburu County, the grazing lands of the Samburu people… and over there are Turkana lands, they should leave.”

     Following my conversation with Chief Lokarach, I walked to the next house with a slight feeling of hopelessness.  How can we truly help these communities come together when conflict occurred so suddenly and has been reinforced by profiteering politicians?  Mwalimu Boniface, who accompanied me (knowing that I didn’t know the way to the last house) saw that my mind was running in circles and told me to remember that all three of these past families said that CPI Kenya was doing something different.  Children Peace Initiative Kenya was actually working with these communities in a way that excited the residents.  Previous programs had not received such acclaim.  CPI Kenya was not only preaching peace, it was showing the way.

     

     When we arrived at the house of Siirana Lokitari, her father was also waiting at the doorway with a glass of water.  Siirana’s friend, Lucy Lelekong (of Ngilai village, a Samburu community) sat inside guzzling down a glass of water of her own.  I happily downed the glass in a single gulp, paying little attention to the fact that the water had probably come from the river less than a kilometer away. 

     Mwalimu Boniface and I sat down with Siirana’s father, Evans, and began talking.  Tired of the same questions, we started the conversation talking about English Football and whether Arsenal could do well this year.  However, after a few minutes, the topic moved to CPI Kenya and the promise of peace that accompanies the organization.  Evans mentioned that the friendship of his daughter had brought him back in contact with his own childhood friend from grade-school.  Looking at Lucy, Siirana’s friend, he proclaimed, “when my daughter informed of her new friend from Ngilai, I asked for the name… When I heard the last name, I knew that Lucy is the younger sister of my best friend from Baragoi Boys Secondary School!”  With excitement in his eyes, he pointed towards his phone and told me that he now had the phone number of his long-lost friend. 

     While the conflict in Baragoi, and by effect Nachola, seems to be a curse with no clear rationale or purpose, there appears to be a clear antidote: Friendship.  With children leading the way, communities feel more empowered to pursue reconciliation.  Essentially, Children Peace Initiative Kenya’s program in Baragoi stands a chance because of the power of childhood friendship in helping us remember a more innocent past.

     To support the communities pursuing a peaceful and prosperous future, please visit the Children Peace Initiative Kenya website and donate to the ongoing Zivik supported program in Baragoi.

299. Meetings of Former Friends and Former Enemies

     August 19, 2019 8:12 am 1 Comment

     Young men sat under one of the few acacia trees that bordered the Lenkima Primary School.  Deep in the territory controlled by the Turkana community, these Samburu Morans (warriors) seemed tense and tightly grouped together.  Meanwhile, passing villagers, keeping their distance, came to me to ask in a barely intelligible mix of Turkana and Swahili, “are those really Samburu Morans?”

     

     Children Peace Initiative Kenya arrived in Baragoi over a week earlier for the Baragoi Holiday Peace Exchange in Nachola village.  Finishing this portion of the program at the end of the previous week, the following week was dedicated to meetings of Wazee (elders) and Morans (warriors). 

     Prior to the meeting of the Morans, the meeting of the Wazee was held in Ngilai (a Samburu village).  This meeting was a surprising success.  Never having been facilitated by CPI Kenya in previous programs, the team was nervous about turn-out.  However, the context and history of the conflict worked in our favor in bringing the two communities, made up of six villages, together.

     

     The Wazee (elders) were relaxed and even recalled the days before the conflict.  When listening to these conversations and asking many of the elders myself, I found that remembering the past and peaceful coexistence gave the elders a shared drive to resolve the conflict.  Upon my arrival to Ngilai, Mzee Jeremiah (a Samburu elder from the host village of Ngilai) sat with me and recalled how before 25 years of conflict he would frequently meet with his friends from the Turkana community, confessing that he knows “the Turkana language far better than the Swahili language”. 

     

     Such sentiments among the older men were omnipresent.  They missed their old friends and the relations of the past.  Mzee Edaan Kuniya, a Turkana elder from Nachola village, was inspired by the meeting of children in his village the previous week, “now let us go and see the others… and tell them what has happened here”.  Such inspiration contrasts with the fact that, in Mzee Kuniya’s words, “since we have started fighting, we have never seen each other”.

     

     After the meeting of Wazee in Ngilai, we ventured to Lenkima for the meeting of the Morans.  It soon became apparent that fewer Morans arrived from the Samburu community than anticipated.  As explained by numerous elders, the Morans, being young men who were raised during the conflict, lack the elders’ contextual understanding of the conflict and do not have a memory of the past. Accordingly, fear of reprisal violence may have prevented more warriors from the Samburu side from attending.

     The Morans were called to the meeting.  They circled around the largest tree in front of the primary school and pulled up benches.  In contrast with the meeting of the Wazee, a translator was completely necessary.  Not only were many of the Morans unable to understand Swahili, they were unable to converse in the other community’s language. 

     

     The first hour of the meeting was slow, being led by CPI Kenya staff and a few elders that were inspired to participate.  One of those elders was Chief Leparoiya, the Chief of Ngilai village (a Samburu community).  His story is well known among the people of his community.  While having two young boys from a Turkana community assist him in patching up his roof, he lost two of his sons and over 300 heads of cattle in a raid.  In the midst of such a tragedy, he hid the boys in his house and away from the community, fearing reprisal attacks on the young men.  Now, he stood in front of many Turkana Morans preaching a gospel of peace (some of whom likely knew who had killed his sons).

     In the presence of such commitment to peace, one Samburu Moran from Bendera village bravely stood up to talk to the group.  With his walking stick probing out his path and shirt ruffling in the warm wind, he announced his name as Leaturu.  The Moran from Bendera started his speech quickly and directly, stating that “we [Samburu Morans] have never come to Lenkima by day, and we’ve never come without a gun”.  Despite the gravity of such a statement, the entire group laughed. 

     

     The meeting continued for hours.  As more young Morans stood up to talk about the conflict and their understanding of peace, a sense of comradery soon became apparent.  They were all raised to be warriors under similar values but for opposing sides.  While friendship will be a slow process of building trust, these young men now stand to resist incitements for conflict and are following the path that school children have already created.

     To support the elders, warriors and children who are searching for peace, please visit the Children Peace Initiative Kenya website and donate to the ongoing Zivik supported program in Baragoi.

300. Menstruation and Men

     August 5, 2019 3:16 am 1 Comment

     Within most societies, menstruation is generally perceived as a ‘woman’s problem.’ Women are the ones who experience it and understand how it feels. They know how to control and manage it. In fact, many women don’t like to talk about menstruation and its associated symptoms, especially in front of men. They buy their menstrual products discretely; they hide these products in their sleeves or pockets when they are going to the bathroom and they dispose of them in such a way that nobody sees.

     As a consequence of this, men often feel uncomfortable and unknowledgeable when asked about the question of menstruation. Many feel ill at ease even when in the vicinity of a conversation about the taboo topic. Because women don’t talk about menstruation, they often don’t understand what exactly it entails, how long it lasts and what is used to manage it.

     When we were in Gutu, I experienced these reactions. Almost all men vacated the area upon hearing that we wanted to talk about menstruation with their wives and daughters. If they did remain nearby, they looked away and pretended not to listen, and not to understand. In fact, some even prevented their wives and daughters from talking to us about the issue.

     This made my aim of finding a man who was willing to talk about Chhaupadi all the more challenging. In fact, it was only on our very last day in the village that we happened upon a family in which the father was vocal about the practice. This man was Sabra Raj Joshi, the proud father of three teenage girls.

     

     Sabra Raj Joshi 

     Sabra was a farmer on the outskirts of Gutu. His family owned six buffalo and a large plot of land. Overall, he was happy with his lot in life. He wasn’t even disappointed at having so many daughters, like many other Nepali families would be. Instead, he felt blessed to have a healthy and happy household.

     When I started asking Harishma, Sabra’s daughter, about Chhaupadi, Sabra was keen to jump in and share his thoughts. He explained that the practice is linked to culture: “We need to do it. It’s part of who we are. We cannot go against it completely, because it’s been part of our traditions for generations. But that doesn’t mean that we need to keep girls outside in a Chhau Goth or a cow shed.”

     Having spoken to quite a few families by this point, I couldn’t deny this. Cultural traditions and practices are extremely prevalent in regions such as Surkhet, in which modernities such as internet and media have not yet invaded. In a place where electricity is scarce and there is no running water, these ancestral traditions remain essential to a common understanding of reality. It seemed natural to me that Sabra wouldn’t want to break with them entirely.

     So the compromise, Sabra told me, was to prevent his girls from staying in the Chhau goth during their menstruation, but to continue to impose certain menstrual restrictions. Bound by tradition on one hand, but practicality and safety on the other, this family had opted to keep their daughters inside during menstruation in a separate room dedicated specifically to menstruating girls.

     This led me to consider what the practice of Chhaupadi really means. Does it mean sending your daughters to stay in the Chhau goth? Or does it include menstrual restrictions? In Sabra’s mind, his family did not practice Chhaupadi, because Chhaupadi was associated with a Chhau goth – but is this the case? After all, although Sabra’s daughters are safe inside their homes during menstruation, they are still isolated from others and forced to act differently during their periods.

     Speaking to Sabra also led me to reflect on the significant role of men in relation to the question of menstruation. Many consider that Chhaupadi is a practice perpetuated by grandmothers and mothers. Whilst this is true, Nepali society is highly patriarchal. This means that if a father as thoughtful and caring as Sabra reflects on the issue of Chhaupadi then he can stop his daughters and wife from continuing the practice. It is therefore essential that men are also included in conversations about menstruation and menstrual practices.

301. Is Education the Answer?

     July 30, 2019 12:09 am 3 Comments

     Life is Gutu is generally peaceful and quiet. The only traffic consists of the local bus or the odd motorbike powering through the village lanes. The only lights are the candles or torchlights of those out for an evening stroll. Nevertheless, there are two things that destroy this peace: firstly, the music at a wedding or a local party, which resonates throughout the village on a fine Friday night, and secondly, the sound of excitable schoolchildren on their way to start school at 6am.

     Our home in Gutu was right beside the lovely school of Giwan Gyoti, the local primary and secondary school. Despite the early hour, the cheery and enthusiastic voices of the children ensured that I awoke with a smile on my face each morning. It became so clear to me that these children loved meeting their friends and coming to school. It was a place for them to learn all about the world and the things in it. In school, they were not required to help their mothers cook or clean; to carry water or to work on the fields. In school, they could act their age, they could play, and they could have fun.

     But then I thought of all the Chhau Goth’s that I had seen. These constructions were usually so small that girls couldn’t sit upright in them and most didn’t have proper walls or doors. None of the Chhau Goth’s that I had seen had electricity or running water, making it impossible to read or study after nightfall. I wondered: how on earth do girls survive in those conditions and come to school?  Do they even come to school when they are on their periods? And if they don’t – what are the long-term consequences?

     We sat down with Mr. Janjati Obrahadur, the head teacher, to chat about the issue. He insisted that girls were not put off going to school because of menstruation: “Most girls don’t miss school during menstruation or Chhaupadi. I can’t say that 100% of girls come to school during menstruation, but I can say that many do because otherwise we would see an effect on class size.”

     

     Mr. Janjati Obrahadur, Head Teacher 

     This surprised me. I couldn’t imagine spending the night in a Chhau Goth and then being required to study and work hard and school. But Mr. Obrahadur explained that girls feel comfortable and secure coming to school during their periods, because there are adequate resources for them: “We have distributed free pads in schools, and we have taught the girls to use them properly. We have also taught the girls and boys to make reusable pads with their own hands! We also have a separate restroom for girls to change their pads and rest if they are having cramps. We make it very comfortable for them.”

     I was impressed. Even in Scotland we don’t have separate rooms in which to rest, and pads have only recently become free. It seemed that this particular school was going out of its way to ensure the safety, security and comfort of young women during their periods. But I did wonder whether this was universal.

     “We also have classes about menstrual management and hygiene,” Mr. Obrahadur continued, “We teach the girls about the danger of staying in the Chhau Goth during their periods. By educating girls, we hope that the young generation won’t practice this tradition.”

     

     Students complete worksheets about the importance of menstrual hygiene

     But is the education of young women enough? After all, they will go home at the end of the day and they will be forced to abide by the rules of their parents and grandparents. “Even though educating the girls helps to end the practice of Chhaupadi, it is not enough. We need to work with the communities as a whole. These girls will only have power when they are grandparents themselves, which is won’t be for a long time! For that reason, their elders must be educated as well!” he added.

     Even though this particular school has made menstruation as comfortable as possible for these young women, the reality is that many will be forced to sleep in the Chhau Goth when they go home. They might be denied water and nutritious food, leaving them lacking energy and enthusiasm. They might get sick and miss school. And if a girl misses five days of school per month during her period, she is missing two months of school during the year. This has the potential to put her at a massive disadvantage against her male peers.

     Nevertheless, I must commend Mr. Obrahadur for creating such a menstruation – friendly environment, in which discussion and debate about menstrual health is rife. Whilst I am sure that many schools do adopt such measures, I am told by Ram that this is uncommon. I believe that an open attitude towards menstruation can vastly improve the experience of a menstruating girl, and I can only hope that all schools, especially schools in rural areas, will adopt such attitudes in the future.

     

     The school of Giwan Gyoti

302. A Catalyst to Change and a Beneficiary: Hilary Bukuno

     July 29, 2019 7:01 am 4 Comments

     Hurri Hills is a small village on top of a windswept mountain in northern Kenya.  The cool climate contrasts with the vast Chalbi desert that surrounds this highland village.  A mere shell of its dynamic past as the bread basket for the northern region of Marsabit County, the village is now a sleepy hub for Gabra pastoralists.  Fifteen years of inconsistent and insufficient rains have changed the economy of the town and left its mountaintop residents parched.

     

     Nonetheless, this isn’t a story of how Global Warming has changed the economy and lifestyles of the people of Marsabit, nor is it a story that mimics the sleepy nature of this town.  Instead, this is a brief account of the leader of Children Peace Initiative Kenya, Hilary Bukuno, and some of the events that helped him conceive of the children-centric methodology. 

     I will start with my arrival to Hurri Hills.  While I have had the opportunity to learn about Hilary and his passion during my Peace Fellowship, being invited to his home village helped me contextualize the person and the philosophy.  I came to Hurri Hills as a guest of Mr. Bukuno while he made the pilgrimage to visit the grave of his mother, nearly three years following her death.  As per tradition, he asked a priest to give a mass in remembrance of his mother and purchased a goat and sheep to feed the family and friends who would attend. 

     Under an aura of tradition and remembrance, we marched up to the grave site.  The grave was covered in the belongings of his mother and portions of her traditional wedding house.  We all gave libations of tobacco and salt while standing for prayers. 

     

     From the burial site another mountain was visible to the northeast.  Hilary pointed it out to me and told me that 14 years ago a horrible massacre occurred there.  At the height of interethnic tensions, 60 people were murdered in the village of Turbi.  The tragic event that displaced thousands of people from northern Marsabit county and directly affected Hilary.  As Hilary recounted to me, he had family and friends who narrowly managed to escape the deadly raid.

     Instead of becoming a partisan in the conflict between people of Borana and Gabra communities, the conflict strengthened his resolve to bring peace.  From early on, Hilary saw ethnic tensions as “the result of continued marginalization of communities in northern Kenya”.  And, his mission was to unite the peoples in conflict in order to address this historical marginalization.

     He began this mission a year before the violent raid in Turbi.  In 2004, as the Bishop-appointed Coordinator of Justice and Peace for Marsabit Dioses, he facilitated the Walk for the Road, a 534-kilometer march from the border of Kenya and Ethiopia to Isiolo town.  The rough road required any vehicle to budget nearly two days for travel and was fought with danger as bandits capitalized on the poor road conditions to rob those passing by.  The protest was accompanied by 77 residents of Marsabit, a seventh of whom were women.  Aggressive publicity of this march forced the national government to act quickly, leading to a tarmacked road that reduced travel time to mere hours.

     The success of this campaign only highlights the pride Hilary has for the land he is from.  However, violent events, like those in Turbi, as well as the continued failures of peace accords within the region led him to follow a different direction.  His passion for northern Kenya was tied intrinsically to children.  As he recounted, “I received my degree in education, founded many youth groups, and felt that sensitizing the future generations was the best pathway to meaningful peace and development of the region”.

     The violence in Marsabit is caused by a confluence of factors, from diminishing water and extreme poverty to the proximity of an international border and opportunistic politicians.  The complexity of the conflict in this region of the country means that accords and agreements between powerbrokers are bound to fail without the buy-in of their constituencies.  Additionally, as water has become increasingly scarce and poverty has intensified, the conflict can be seen as both a result and a cause to economic development.

     

     Hilary has felt the hopelessness and intricacy of the problem before him.  Despite his professional leanings towards education, he has made efforts to address all components of this problem.  His peace initiatives have spanned from advocacy for economic inclusion to changing the norms of  violence.  Nonetheless, the latter is where he has seen the most success.  

     Children Peace Initiative Kenya began where Hilary had the most experience.  According to CPI Kenya’s 2013 Annual Narrative Report, “Traditionally, [the] agenda for inter-community peace and dialogue was reserved for few opinion leaders and government officials”.  Instead, Hilary has focused his programs in Marsabit on bringing families together by using children as a common link.  This has worked to break down stereotypes that perpetuate animosities and pressure leaders into respecting signed agreements.  With successes in diverse villages across Marsabit, from Maikona to Loiyangalani, Hilary quickly expanded operations to Baringo, Samburu, and Isiolo.

     Despite the marked success of a child-centric peace initiative, migration and worsening drought make the conflict regions especially dynamic.  In Marsabit, interethnic violence has once again spiked.  From the violent death of Chief George Biqa – a Borana chief and close associate of Hilary who was murdered for supporting a peace process – to recent politically motivated attacks on disparate villages, Children Peace Initiative must face complex challenges in order to further its mission.  As these complex challenges affect the region, they also affect Hilary. CPI’s success in the county will provide the groundwork for economic development and a prosperous future. And, without the success of CPI’s programs in Marsabit, the safety and livelihoods of friends and family hang in the balance.

     To support Hilary and his organization, Children Peace Initiative Kenya, please visit the website and donate to the ongoing Zivik supported program in Baragoi.

303. A Political Question

     4:52 am 2 Comments

     The practice of Chhaupadi was made illegal by the Supreme Court of Nepal in 2005. However, this law had a very minimal impact, and as a consequence, the government decided to introduce further legislation which would punish those who force women into exile during menstruation with up to three months in jail, or a fine of almost 3000 Nepalese rupees ($30). Despite optimism that this would discourage people from practicing Chhaupadi, local people refused to file cases against their own family or community members. In late 2018, district governments in the far west of the country began denying state support services to citizens who were forcing the practice of Chhaupadi.

     When I heard about the practice of denying state support services to those forcing the practice of Chhaupadi, I was skeptical. Whilst I agreed that an effective method by which to implement the law against Chhaupadi was essential, I was not sure that denying people of the services upon which they relied was the right way to go about addressing this problem. After all, speaking to a large number of girls who practiced Chhaupadi had shown me how strongly people believed in this cultural and religious practice. I was convinced that many would choose to abide by “God’s Law,” and to lose their state support, rather than ending a practice they deemed to be essential in order to maintain their purity.

     These reflections led me to the office of the Ward Leader in Gutu. The county of Nepal is divided into six provinces, which are further divided into districts (such as the district of Surkhet), and then into wards. Each ward is led by an elected Ward Leader, who is allocated a budget from which to promote social, economic and political development. The village of Gutu in Surkhet belongs to Ward No. 6 and is governed by Mr. Amar Bahadur Buda at the present moment.

     

     Mr. Bahadur Buda, Ward Leader

     Arriving at the busy office of the Mr. Bahadur Buda, I was apprehensive about what kind of attitude I would find. Would he be willing to discuss the topic of Chhaupadi? Would he sugar-coat the problem, or tell me it no longer existed? Would Mr. Bahadur Buda take my questions seriously? Would he even have the time to see me?

     Luckily, Mr. Bahadur Buda was welcoming, friendly and extremely chatty. He explained to me that the problem of Chhaupadi was a major issue in the village because: “Many unfortunate situations have arisen because of the practice of Chhaupadi in the village. Many women are at danger of extreme weather conditions and snakebites. And of course, there is also rape. It’s very dangerous for women, but it’s almost impossible to stop people following the tradition.”

     “The ward and the municipality collaborate to work on an awareness programme against Chhaupadi. We tell people that they don’t have to stop the practice, they just have to let their girls stay in a separate room inside their homes. We plan to collect mother groups and teach them about the dangers of Chhaupadi as well.”

     Awareness-raising seems to be a popular method by which to eliminate the practice of Chhaupadi, used by CAED and numerous other NGOs working on the issue. It appears to be logical, because education is one of the best ways to demystify a myth. Nevertheless, I thought to myself – what is the purpose of a law if it is deemed impossible implement, even by the government? Of course, it is a step in the right direction – but what else needs to be done?

     I also realised that Mr. Bahadur Buda hadn’t mentioned whether people were actually being denied state support services. It transpired that he didn’t know anything about this strategy: “There is a provision for jail against Chhaupadi, but this is not implemented in practicality. People don’t want to go against their families and communities. And they certainly won’t complain against themselves!”

     As our meeting drew to a close, I remembered how often I had heard about the corrupt Nepali government. This made me wonder – was I sitting opposite a political leader who himself forced the practice of Chhaupadi on this family? Luckily, I was not disappointed: “My wife and daughters do not practice Chhaupadi. They stay inside the home during their periods. But my parents – we can’t change their minds. The practice will end – but slowly. We need time. And we need a new generation.”

     

     Indira, Ram, Mr. Bahadur Buda and I (left to right)

304. A Traditional Healer with a Traditional Viewpoint?

     July 27, 2019 10:14 am 3 Comments

     In the local villages of Nepal, traditional healers, also known as the dhami, are the first port of call for villagers who are feeling unwell or sick. The practice of traditional healing rejects western notions of medicine and an understanding of biological processes. Instead, it promotes the idea that the dhami, a spiritual healer, can suck the evil ghosts or spirits out of a person who is ill, thereby curing them of their impurity and bringing them back to physical health.

     The logic behind the practice of traditional healing comes from a time when people did not understand the biological reasons for which they became ill, instead believing that illness was caused by ‘God’s Anger.’ In order to appease this almighty God, people began to worship rivers, mountains and forests. The concept of a witch developed simultaneously with this notion: a witch could prevent ghosts from entering the body of somebody. A traditional healer, or dhami, is a type of witch: he is someone who can act as a mediator between the spiritual world and the material world. He can purge the sick body of illness and he can cure the mentally unstable of disease or ailment.

     In the village of Gutu, there are many dhami. These are always men and can be either literate or illiterate. They have learned their treatment methods from their parents or from senior dhamis. These men have great clout in the village – they are trustworthy, holy and, perhaps most importantly, they are the most readily available form of treatment. Their word is believed, and therefore they play an extremely important role in the elimination of Chhaupadi.

     One sunny morning, we set out to find a local dhami, keen to understand a little more about what exactly he might think of Chhaupadi. After a few failed first attempts, we eventually tracked down Chandra Bahek, a popular dhami, who was undertaking agricultural work on a field near his home. He agreed to sit down for a short chat with us. Initially, he was extremely unwilling to open up and talk to us about the issue, pretending he didn’t even know what Chhaupadi was. But after a bit of persuasion, he let us in to his thoughts.

     

     Chandra, the local dhami, tells us about Chhaupadi

     First, I decided to ask Chandra about whether he thought that Chhaupadi was a choice. He replied in the negative, insisting that it was a law: a law of God. “Of course, there is a law that the government makes. But that’s not the most important law. The most important law is the one God makes. And God says we have to practice Chhaupadi.” His words were final and certain, and once again, I was reminded that the law seemed to be at the heart of this question. In Chandra’s mind, the law against Chhaupadi was worth nothing against the law of God – a law which highlights that women are impure and have to be removed from society during menstruation.

     Next, I wanted to find out about his perception of the consequences of Chhaupadi: “There is no risk or danger associated with Chhaupadi. This tradition has existed in our society for many generations. Even my wife has practiced Chhaupadi her entire life, and nothing has happened to her. In fact, she is the picture of health and she has had so many beautiful babies. She would work on the fields all day, and then she would come home and boom! She would have another baby. She would then stay in the Chhau Goth for 21 days with the newborn, and they would both come back beaming. But now people have all these new rules – that women have to rest and take care when they have a child, that they have to eat nutritious food or go to a hospital. But that’s not the case. My wife is proof that nothing happens when people stay in the Chhau Goth, either during their periods or when they have a baby.”

     It seemed that this dhami was pretty set in his ways. Nevertheless, he seemed to accept the idea that girls should not stay in the Chhau Goth: “Girls can stay in a separate room inside their homes when they are menstruating, that’s no problem. They don’t have to stay in the Chhau Goth They just shouldn’t touch men or enter the kitchen!”

     His reaction was promising. Although staying in a separate room inside the home during menstruation is still isolation, it’s at least safe and sanitary. It ensures that girls are not at risk of snake bites, rape and assault. They can also get a good night’s sleep during their period, decreasing the risk that they will miss school or develop an illness. Reflecting on our conversation, it has occurred to me that maybe the complete eradication of Chhaupadi will take generations, but that instead it is necessary to eliminate the practice gradually. After all, it is impossible to ask a society to change their ways overnight: but it is possible to ask them to adopt gradual changes. And this leaves me with hope for the girls of Gutu, and all around the country.

305. A Grandmother’s Wisdom

     July 26, 2019 1:10 am 2 Comments

     In Nepali society, a woman moves in with her husband’s family when she gets married. She lives with her mother-in-law, her father-in-law and her husband’s paternal grandparents. Multiple generations living under one roof may seem complex and difficult for someone from a western country, but for Nepali people this is natural. Elders are to be cared for and respected.

     Not only this, but Nepali society is also highly patriarchal. Men hold primary power and the predominant roles of political leadership, moral authority, social privilege and the control of power. But that doesn’t mean that women don’t have any power at all. In fact, it is the mother-in-law and the grandmother of a household who decide the rules, particularly in relation to issues such as cooking, cleaning, child – rearing and menstruation.

     I had this realisation when we visited Umma, a local in Gutu, and her family. When we stumble upon their beautiful family home, Umma and her grandmother (only introduced as Amma, the Nepali word for grandmother) are preparing food. Umma is breaking up green bean stocks and Amma is cutting up a cucumber. They beckon us over cheerily, encouraging us to have a seat and to chat with them.

     

     Umma and her Amma sit outside their home

     Umma is 26 years old and, despite the tradition of arranged marriages in the community, she tells me that she is happily married. She has three children, and she explains to me that cooking is a passion of hers because she loves making sure that her family is well fed.

     Encouraged by this enthusiastic welcome, I breach the subject of menstruation. The two women immediately come alive. Umma tells me that before she was married, she spent 4 incredibly uncomfortable and solitary days in a Chhau Goth every month. However, once she was married, she was no longer obligated to follow the tradition because no woman in her husband’s family practiced Chhaupadi.

     A view from Umma and her Amma‘s home

     Curious about why a family wouldn’t practice a tradition as embedded in society as that of Chhaupadi, I wanted to know more. Amma jumped in eagerly with more information: “I am a Female Community Health Volunteer (FCHV) which means that I am against Chhaupadi and other harmful practices.”

     The FCHV programme was originally implemented in 1991, with the purpose of improving the general health of the population. Because the majority of the population lived in rural areas, it was deemed important to have women on the ground working on health issues. These women are a focal point for bridging health – related programmes in the community. Amma explains to me that “We are a group of women who work on a range of women’s health issues, including menstruation and contraceptives. Our aim is to make sure that women are able to access contraceptives and understand how to maintain healthy reproductive systems.”

     I am impressed by this programme and its obvious success. It targets health problems at their root, encouraging local community members to actively ameliorate their health-care programmes. Amma attests to this, telling me about the positive impact of the programme on her life and on the lives of those around her. She explains that FCHV training has allowed her to view women’s rights issues from a biological perspective, and that she now understands that menstrual blood is not impure. She loves to share this knowledge with other local women, encouraging them to give up the practice of Chhaupadi as well.

     Speaking to Umma and her Amma, I realise that one of the fundamental factors that prevents women from refusing to stay in the Chhau Goth is a lack of understanding about the issue, and a fear that their family and friends will be hurt if they stay at home. It made me think about how important education and local programmes such as the FCHV can be in changing attitudes about health care. Women are more likely to give up the practice of Chhaupadi and to remain safely in their homes during menstruation if they are being told by a member of their community, and someone they view as similar to themselves.

     I ask the women if they think Chhaupadi will be eliminated in the future, and both answer positively. This reassures me. It also strengthens my belief that Chhaupadi is an issue which needs to be targeted on multiple levels: grandmothers, mothers, fathers and daughters all need to be included in the discussion.

306. What Does Soap Have to do with Child Marriage?

     July 8, 2019 11:59 am 6 Comments

     As I work with WAP to evaluate their current program and plan for the expansion of their work, one of the things we have been focusing on is the economic empowerment of WAP’s beneficiaries. Poverty is among the leading causes of child marriage in Zimbabwe, and was identified as such by many of the women and girls we have interviewed.

     Poverty in these communities can lead to a myriad of issues, one being that a girl’s family can no longer pay her school fees. Not being able to attend school, a girl’s ability to learn and gain skills for her future is severely impeded. She may also become perceived as an economic burden on her family and will be married off as a solution, or she may even begin to be abused by her guardians. Another outcome is that some girls may feel life would be more comfortable with a husband, so they will choose to marry young to improve their situation.

     

     Amidst Zimbabwe’s current economic challenges, poverty is becoming an ever-greater problem for these women and girls. In order to work towards its mission, WAP has chosen to focus on economic empowerment and income generation to lift women and girls out of poverty and prevent child marriages, abuse, and early pregnancies.

     For those who might be unfamiliar with economic empowerment initiatives, here are several examples of different definitions:

     UN Women: “Women’s economic empowerment includes women’s ability to participate equally in existing markets; their access to and control over productive resources, access to decent work, control over their own time, lives and bodies; and increased voice, agency and meaningful participation in economic decision-making at all levels from the household to international institutions.”

     CARE defines women’s economic empowerment as “the process by which women increase their right to economic resources and power to make decisions that benefit themselves, their families and their communities. Investing in women’s economic empowerment sets a path for poverty reduction and for equality between men and women.”

     Introducing: CLEAN GIRL soap products! These soaps will be crafted by hand, packaged and sold by the group of beneficiaries and their mothers.

     

     WAP believes producing and selling liquid soap is an effective way to meet these goals. Liquid soap products such as dish, toilet and engine cleaners are in high demand in Zimbabwe, and many locally-sourced and handmade options are desirable for their lower prices. Bar soap is also useful, but the raw materials to make those types of soaps are more expensive and difficult to acquire. Making the soap will be fairly simple once the ingredients and equipment are purchased. And selling the product will be easy, as open-air vendors and community markets are quite common throughout the city. The Ambassadors and club members can utilize social media and their networks to advertise the soap and spread the word about where people can purchase it.

     

     

     You might be wondering – what sort of products go into this kind of soap? Is it safe to make? I had the same questions and have learned that the ingredients are fairly common and are safe as well. Several of the ingredients do contain chemicals, so anyone working with the soap will receive proper training and all will be provided adequate safety equipment.

     This is where you come in! If you would like to support this program, please consider donating to the project on Global Giving (here). Importantly: if you are able to give $100 and above, you can have your gift matched up to 50% if you wait until July 18^th! (if you are unable to give $100 and above, you have the option of pooling funds with a group of people and then donating in one large sum to make the matching amount stretch farther). We aim to raise at least $5,000 over the next few months for this pilot program.

307. A Life in the Kilns

     November 5, 2018 6:43 am Leave a Comment

     

     Children who live inside the brick factory where their parents are working are much more likely to start working when they are around 8 years of age. (Bhaktapur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     Are you working in a brick factory during seasonal time?

     Yes.

     What are you doing?

     I am flipping brick.

     Only flipping bricks?

     Yes, baba and mommy do not want me to do other things.

     Why?

     They say, I have to sleep at night to be good at school. I am only flipping bricks after school to help them, but they work alone at night.

     Until are you up after school when you help your parents?

     I stop working at 10pm.

     And on Saturdays and public holidays?

     On Saturdays I work until 7pm.

     You start working directly after school, once you come home?

     No, first I do my homework.

     When did you start working in the brick factory?

     Around 8 or 9.

     When did you start flipping bricks?

     When I was 6. My brother also started when he was 6.

     Why are you saying that you only started working when you were around 8/9, if you started flipping bricks at age 6?

     Because at that time I did not know how to make nice bricks. Before it was not really working, It was a training, I was learning. I can only do nice bricks since being 8 or 9.

     So today you are only flipping bricks but not making bricks anymore?

     Yes.

     

     A naike is demonstrating how his 14-years old daughter is flipping bricks at night in the brick factory. (Bhaktapur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     Mixing, making, flipping, piling

     Alina is “only” flipping bricks because her parents eventually understood the necessity for, to have time to rest and play instead of working in the kilns without a break, regarding her personal development and her school level. Rama wakes up very early, because she has to work from 1 to 8 am before going to school, a time where she is making bricks in the dark, while after school from 4 to 7pm, she is also flipping and piling bricks and cleaning the factory. Roj was helping at night time before school, from 1 to 3 am, when all family members were mixing the mud – with the help of a small dozer because it needs to be done before sunrise – then he was sleeping and taking his meal before going to school. Back from school, Rojina is first cooking for her family, does her homework and then goes to work in the kilns for one hour, where she is collecting dried bricks and piles them, and also cleans the production areas within the factory. Balram tries to avoid carrying bricks because he considers it as being the most difficult task in the kilns, where he has to work about one or two hours in the morning and again one hour or more after 3pm.

     While the nature of the task and the time allocated to work differs from one child to another, some common features can be noticed. In average, children usually start to work in the kilns at the age of 8. From the 18 children working in brick factories in 2018, all started between age 6 and 10, with a regular distribution between the ages they started working.

     The tasks depend on the age of the children, usually the younger children start with flipping bricks and cleaning the brick production places. Later they also start to mix mud, to pile bricks and to carry them by hand. The older ones usually make bricks and carry them on their back, while still doing tasks previously enumerated. However, most of the children do their homework before starting their daily work in the kilns, be it before or after school. When homework plus household chores, such as cooking, cleaning the house or looking after younger siblings, are done, children usually start their daily work in the factory.

     

     As long as a child lives within a brick factory he remains at high exposure to child labour. If one parent finds a job outside the brick factory, and accordingly the family moves out of the kilns, there is a high probability for the child to stop working in the brick factory. (Bhaktapur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     Why bricks?

     Parents who make the choice to work in brick factories, do so because without having any skills, it is the job that has the highest financial returns. Most of the parents are illiterate and find themselves in a poor economic situation with a financial high pressure to run properly the household, guarantee their children access to education, or pay back a loan. The more bricks are done by the end of the day; the more money is brought home. The additional income provided by children’s work enables the family to buy more food, pay school fees and education material of the household’s children, or simply to increase the family’s living condition. Some parents in the situation of reimbursing big amounts of money – whatever the reason leading to this issue – make their children work with them. However, some parents have more understanding for their children’s need for doing something else, outside school hours, instead of mixing mud, making bricks, flipping, piling or carrying bricks. When the loan to reimburse becomes less or has been totally reimbursed, parents find another job where they have to work less hard, and where earning less money is not a problem anymore.

     When CONCERN started to support the children, the staff relied mostly on schools to target the parents whose children were working in brick factories. In some cases, parents were informed by the principals about a possible support by CONCERN, when they were about to pay school fees or during a parent-teacher meeting. Some schools like Dattatraya school, also visit brick factories once or twice a year to control if children are working there. In some cases, parents were informed about CONCERN’s sponsorship within the brick factory, when CONCERN staff along with teachers and the brick factory owner, gathered all the parents working in the factory to enrol their children.

     

     Tasks are divided between gender. Piling bricks, so they can dry properly before being collected to get burned, is a task reserved to women and children. (Bhaktapur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     

     The final step in the brick production process is the brick burning, which happens in a special place of the brick factory. The factory’s chimney radiates such a heat that thousands of bricks arranged around get burned. (Bhaktapur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     Avoiding drop outs

     The main reason behind the children’s dropout is their transfer from one school with which CONCERN has a partnership, to another school that is not supported by CONCERN. Children have to change the school for different reasons, but most of the time, they have to be transferred to another school because the school they are attending does not teaches classes for the new grade they passed to. As a consequence, children drop out because their parents can not afford the school fees of the new school their child has been transferred to. This situation happens because the partnership with schools is prioritised towards the support of the child throughout his education. Another main reason behind children’s dropout is the regular physical punishment violent teachers inflict on them when homework is not done or because of misbehaviour. This is a frequent issue in governmental schools where teachers resort to physical violence towards their pupils. As a consequence, children who have no time to do their homework, or who get no help at home to do their homework are more likely to be victims of violence at school. Accordingly, many children who face physical punishment at school are traumatised and quit school. If a child drops out because he is victim of physical punishment by his teachers resulting from homework that is not done, a tuition program seems to be a reasonable program to respond to both problematic situations. It can be a drastic change in their approach to school, if children are involved in the learning process without being constantly terrorised to go to school.

     If the objective is to prevent drop outs and to stop making children work, a personal relationship has to be developed with the parents. If they are trusting the field assistant, they will be more easily inclined to speak about their difficulties, challenges they face, successes and thoughts. These discussions should occur at least once a month. On dropouts, if parents migrate, the field officer can more easily be informed and discuss the issue with parents, in meeting them regularly.

     

     Children are more likely to drop out of school when they face physical punishment by professors, resulting from homework that has not been correctly done. Physical punishment is frequent in governmental schools. Children working in the kilns have often no time or get no help to do their homework. A tuition class after school to help children do their homework is an interesting approach to decrease the high rate of school dropouts. (Bhaktapur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     Escaping the kilns

     One fact is the same to all the children working in a brick factory: if they live within the factory, they almost have no chance to escape the labour work in the kilns. When at least one parent does not work in the brick factory anymore, the family moves out of the factory what is the main reason why children stop to work in the kilns. In such cases, parents work in a sector where they either earn more money, or if the new income is lower, it is because they have to work less hard. The adjunction of exercising another profession and moving out of the brick factory dramatically decreases the rate of working children.

     Offering parents the opportunity to get a training in gardening, goat farming, vehicles repairing, sewing or else would certainly encourage them to find another job – consequently they move out of the brick factory – that should preferably make them earn enough money, to stop making their children to work. The total income from the new job exercised without their children’s help, should be higher than the salary they earn in the brick factory when their children are also working. It should also be considered to financially compensate the days of training for the loss it brings in the daily brick production. If parents get trained, it can be imagine to assist children in their working plan, when they are above 16 years of age and have a sufficient school level, but who show no interest in school anymore and express their interest for other professions. If the child clearly demonstrated his opposition to continue to go to school or to work in a brick factory, and if he has no or not enough skills for the job he wants to do, a sponsored skills training can be imagined for him, or a way to help him establish his own business.

     Many children are still working before and/or after school, and during Saturdays and public holidays, even though they get supported by CONCERN and AP. Escaping the work in the kilns goes together with escaping the life in the kilns.

     

     Many brick factories are located around the city of Bhaktapur in the Kathmandu Valley. (Bhaktapur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     

     Nowadays, most of the brick factories have public sanitaries for all the workers living within the factory. However, during the high season, more than 1000 workers share three sanitaries and one water source out of the tab. (Bhaktapur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     Even though, the 50 Children Program’s main goal was not a full success – given that many children are still working and that results showed that sponsoring the school education is not enough to help and persuade parents not to make their children work in the brick factory ever again – the 50 Children Program is neither a waste of time and money, nor a complete defeat, because the children supported are going to school everyday and through a full calendar year. Even though, most of them continue to work with their parents in the brick factories, they seem to be working a little less. Moreover, every year that has been sponsored by AP, helped children to get an improved education and a uniform, an inestimable gift for them. Those families that are supported since years by CONCERN show a commitment to their children’s education and understand the necessity to make them stop to work, even though it is difficult for most of them to really renounce on their children’s help. It shows that they are willing to do so, but need other incentives, therefore, redesigning the program seems to be a valid approach.

308. The Rassaili Family

     October 11, 2018 3:51 am Leave a Comment

     

     The parents are concerned about their 5 children’s education, but most of them have to work before and after school to increase the family’s income. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     Purna Bahadur is waiting outside with his bicycle. He is turning around while we are about to finish the interviews with some of the children supported by CONCERN at Suryodaya school. A few meters ahead, he is showing us the way to his house, not far away from the school. On the way, he encounters another friend with his bicycle who joins us. The grass is green and here and there, we can hear children playing. At the corner of the street, nestled between two cement houses, we can see a little house with brick walls and a tin roof. We arrived. Here lives the Rassaili family.

      

     We had asked the principal of Suryodaya school, Raj Kumar Shah, if he has any contact with parents of children that dropped out even though they were supported by AP and CONCERN, to understand the reasons behind the dropouts. He told us to visit Sarita’s house. We understood later that Raj Kumar did not follow our requirements because Sarita, a 17-years old girl, was not a case of dropout, neither had she been sponsored by CONCERN in the past. However, he can not be blamed for it since he simply wanted to draw our attention on Sarita’s family poor living conditions, hoping that it would decide us to start sponsoring her. Even though I do not have the power and resources to make such a decision, the portrait of Sarita’s family gives an insight in the daily life of a family of seven, where children are working before and after school. If you are going through family crisis visit https://www.sippycupmom.com/how-to-never-give-up-when-you-are-going-through-a-family-crisis-7-tips/.

     The obligation to reconcile school and work

     Sarita Rassaili is the second of five children. When she wakes up at 4:30 in the morning, she gets ready for her morning classes that are starting one hour later at the Sanjeet Kishori school. Courses last until noon for children like Sarita who have no time for studies for the remainder of the day. From 12 to 5 in the afternoon, she works as a housekeeper in a neighbouring house, but never misses to do her homework before starting her working shift. Fortunately, her family found a school that is offering courses in the early morning, otherwise she would probably have had to stop her studies, her financial contribution to the household being to precious for the parents to relinquish it.Sarita started to work in a brick factory when she was in class 3, around the age of 10. Her main task was to carry bricks. This upcoming season is the first time she will not be working in the kilns, because her new housekeeping job brings more money home.

     

     Sarita has to attend morning classes starting at 5:30am to avoid dropping out from school, since she has to work in the afternoon, from 12 to 5. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     

     Sarita has to help her mother in working as a housekeeper in the neighbourhood. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     On the contrary, Sarita’s two younger brothers, Purna Bahadur (14) and Santosh (16) will again be working in the brick factory this year. As for their didi (older sister), they are active through the full calendar year. Both are currently completing a steel manufacturing training in the bricks off season. During the high season, they will work along their parents in the kilns.

     Purna Bahadur, Santosh and Sarita all go to Sanjeet Kishori school because Suryodaya school only teaches students up to class 5. The family’s youngest, Kopila (12) is still studying there. In contrast to her siblings, she is free from labour work in the bricks, because she has to take over all household chores while the other members are working. The eldest child of the Rassaili family, Chandrawati (19), stopped working because of a heart disease. She currently lives in another village where she can attend the Shree Vidhyabasini Madhyamik school where all Rassaili children will be transferred from class 10.

     

     Nowadays, the youngest child of the family, Kopila, is not working in the brick factory like her older siblings, but is in charge of all household chores when her family is busy in the kilns. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     Escaping from strict poverty

     Poor is a denominator that is very difficult to define. It’s a condition, more than a result, depending on a series of other factors, all interrelated but also resulting directly from geographical and temporal circles. I will not reflect a long time about using this adjective to describe the families I meet, as part of my fellowship with AP and CONCERN.

     The Rassaili family is poor. This is the main reason that drives the parents to make their work. This poor economic condition did not curb the parents to send their children to school everyday, even though the children are still child labourers, working before and after school for one entire calendar year. “Of course, we all want to read but we have no money” said Sarita’s mother, Netra Kumari. Her father, Bikram, added that it is difficult to get a job during off season – the rainy season – because they have to bargain with workers to get employed or to secure a reasonable salary. Both of the parents are construction labourers during this time of the year, but with the heavy rain falls, missions are not always available. It sometimes can get very difficult to cover all expenses, which they are carefully pay attention to day by day. For 5.000 rupees a month, they rent a house with one single room where the normal course of life goes as it flows. Sleeping, cooking, playing, studying, everything is done in this approximatively 25 square meter room. Even though this is indeed a sign of economic poverty, it might not be such a disadvantage in Nepal – a country where the daily life happens outdoors –  than in other more closed societies where intimacy is more highly valuated.

     

     Netra Kumari is suffering from mental problems what makes it difficult for her to have regular working shifts. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     

     The Rassaili live in a house with one single room where children and parents are sleeping, cooking, studying and following their daily routine. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     The circle of poverty is difficult to break when the previous generations have not completed school. The Rassaili grandparents are illiterate, and the parents both went to school but only until class 4. The resulting lack of skills makes it difficult to get a better job. Now, that most of the parents are aware about the importance to send their children to school, they do not necessarily make their children work out of a lack of consideration regarding the value of education anymore, but because additional incomes earned by children can make a considerable difference by the end of the month.

     The role of schools

      Netra Kumari and Bikram can not afford their children’s school fees and educational tools, that are partly covered by generous teachers and school principals. The role of schools in children’s education is not only about knowledge transmission, but also about the support they might offer to children in need whose parents can’t afford education fees.

     The difference between the school’s dedication to the children’s school enrolment is striking. In my last blog I draw the portrait of Suryodaya’s school principal Raj Kumar Shah who suspended almost all school fees free and sponsored uniforms to enable children from many economic disadvantaged families to send their children to school.

     

     The principal of Suryodaya school where all Rassaili children where enrolled until class 5 is regularly visiting and supporting the family. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     On the contrary, the Mahendra school from the same area, that receives children from class 6 to 10 does not express the same solidarity towards families in need. The Rassaili family told us, that even though the children were first enrolled at Mahendra school after class 5, they had to be transferred to Vidhyabasini school quickly after. Netra Kumari remembers well the unwillingness of the Mahendra school’s principal and teachers that told her that she had to search for another school that accepts to help such poor parents like her. This discrimination towards poor families that only want their children to get education is fortunately not common. Some children from underprivileged background are lucky to get help from supportive teachers, like in Dattatraya, Saraswati, Suryodaya or Gyan Bijaya schools. Even though, he doesn’t teach in the children’s schools, the Rassaili family can count on a friend that is teaching in the village school of Rajabash, Kavri district, and provides them regularly with stationary.

     Sponsoring children with school fees does not seem enough to encourage parents to stop making their children to work. “We are too poor” is a sentence that keeps popping up in our discussion, to justify the fact that the Rassaili kids are working since years and will certainly not stop working in the future. Other approaches need to be experimented to tackle poverty, the main reason that makes children becoming labourers.

     

     Many brick factories are situated in Imadol where the Rassaili family is living. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

309. Remembering Nguyen Van Tuan, 23, Victim of Agent Orange

     September 14, 2018 6:28 pm Leave a Comment

     When I first met Nguyen Van Tuan in August 2015 he was a bright young guy with a twinkle in his eye who couldn’t wait to show me his latest creation – a model of the venerable Hue University which he had made from recycled popsicle sticks.

     The fact that Tuan was also in a wheelchair didn’t slow him down. His room was littered with bits of wood, glue and other modelling stuff, and he was talking a mile a minute about how he needed a computer to sell his models in the US. I was happy to be his first foreign customer.

     Tuan was even ready to chat about Agent Orange, which had put him in the wheelchair and was to take his life. He’d been a marked man ever since his father, Nguyen Van Xoan, was exposed to the herbicide while serving in the Vietnam War. Mr Xoan returned home to Quang Binh province and passed on dioxin poisoning to his children, presumably at conception. He told me that two of his seven children had died soon after birth. Three more – including Tuan – were ill.

     Tuan picked up the story. He explained through an interpreter how the paralysis in his legs had started when he was around 15. Then came the cane, then the teasing and then the wheelchair. Eventually, his parents had to take him out of school.

     Tuan described his dad as a “war hero.” But he had also loved his school and Mr Xoan seemed uncomfortable and maybe a little guilty as he listened anxiously to his son. We learned later that he and his wife Pham Thi Do (above) kept a photo of their children which had been photo-shopped by a neighbor to show their faces on healthy bodies.

     I met several Agent Orange families that summer in Quang Binh province. But it was really after meeting Tuan that our group, The Advocacy Project, decided to help. In the three years since, we have sent several impressive graduate students (Peace Fellows) to work at the Association for the Empowerment of Persons with Disabilities (AEPD) in Quang Binh. Together we have raised around $15,000 for ten Agent Orange families, most of who have bought a cow. Helped by outreach workers from the AEPD, these ageing parents have managed their investments well.

     Of course, we are only scratching the surface in a province where 26,000 people are listed as affected by Agent Orange. But whenever we had doubts I would think of Tuan. He seemed to be defying the odds.

     One reason was that Agent Orange victims have little hope of recovery. Tuan’s older sister Luyen, 26, was struck by severe cerebral palsy as a child and is unable to feed herself or talk. She responds to abrupt changes in the weather by grinding her teeth and cutting into her palms with her nails. Mai Thi Loi, a war widow, gave birth to three sons. All suffer from dementia and Kien, 34, is so violent that he has to be chained to a wall. Le Thanh Duc’s three daughters are so incapacitated that Mr Duc has to move them to a new position every half hour or so.

     This is what makes Agent Orange different from other remnants of war. Like landmines, Agent Orange was spread indiscriminately. But its poison discriminated in the worst possible way by skipping the soldiers and punishing their children. Many are now in their thirties and even the outreach workers at AEPD – who were severely wounded in the war and know something about the challenge of recovery – find it difficult to see how they can be “empowered.”

     Tuan seemed different. Even in his wheelchair I thought that his skills, his optimism and the devotion of his parents would help him to pull through.

     But Agent Orange is unforgiving. Like his older brother, Tuan suffered from hemophilia. In 2015, he was already receiving monthly transfusions at the Hue hospital. He seemed more listless during our second meeting in 2016 and suffered a major seizure in 2017.

     Things seemed to get better earlier this year when my colleague Karen visited. Tuan had returned home and our buffalo had produced a calf. But most of the money had been spent on medical bills, added to which Tuan’s modelling equipment had been destroyed by a flood. Karen’s photo showed a deflated family. In the end it was the hemophilia that killed Tuan.

     Our current Peace Fellow in Vietnam, Marcela, visited Tuan’s family last week to pay our respects and tell Tuan’s parents that we shared their sadness. Like Tuan, Marcela was born long after the War but she understands it much better now. As do we all. That may be Tuan’s final gift.

     * Read Tuan’s full story

     * Meet the nine other families supported by AP and AEPD

     * Read Marcela’s blogs

     * View photos of Agent Orange families

     * Learn about AEPD.

310. Remembering Nguyen Van Tuan, 23, Victim of Agent Orange

     4:47 pm Leave a Comment

     

      

     When I first met Nguyen Van Tuan in August 2015 he was a bright young guy with a twinkle in his eye who couldn’t wait to show me his latest creation – a model of the venerable Hue University which he had made from recycled popsicle sticks.

     The fact that Tuan was also in a wheelchair didn’t slow him down. His room was littered with bits of wood, glue and other modelling stuff, and he was talking a mile a minute about how he needed a computer to sell his models in the US. I was happy to be his first foreign customer.

     Tuan was even ready to chat about Agent Orange, which had put him in the wheelchair and was to take his life. He’d been a marked man ever since his father, Nguyen Van Xoan, was exposed to the herbicide while serving in the Vietnam War. Mr Xoan returned home to Quang Binh province and passed on dioxin poisoning to his children, presumably at conception. He told me that two of his seven children had died soon after birth. Three more – including Tuan – were ill.

     Tuan picked up the story. He explained through an interpreter how the paralysis in his legs had started when he was around 15. Then came the cane, then the teasing and then the wheelchair. Eventually, his parents had to take him out of school.

     Tuan described his dad as a “war hero.” But he had also loved his school and Mr Xoan seemed uncomfortable and maybe a little guilty as he listened anxiously to his son. We learned later that he and his wife Pham Thi Do (above) kept a photo of their children which had been photo-shopped by a neighbor to show their faces on healthy bodies.

     I met several Agent Orange families that summer in Quang Binh province. But it was really after meeting Tuan that our group, The Advocacy Project, decided to help. In the three years since, we have sent several impressive graduate students (Peace Fellows) to work at the Association for the Empowerment of Persons with Disabilities (AEPD) in Quang Binh. Together we have raised around $15,000 for ten Agent Orange families, most of who have bought a cow. Helped by outreach workers from the AEPD, these ageing parents have managed their investments well.

     Of course, we are only scratching the surface in a province where 26,000 people are listed as affected by Agent Orange. But whenever we had doubts I would think of Tuan. He seemed to be defying the odds.

     One reason was that Agent Orange victims have little hope of recovery. Tuan’s older sister Luyen, 26, was struck by severe cerebral palsy as a child and is unable to feed herself or talk. She responds to abrupt changes in the weather by grinding her teeth and cutting into her palms with her nails. Mai Thi Loi, a war widow, gave birth to three sons. All suffer from dementia and Kien, 34, is so violent that he has to be chained to a wall. Le Thanh Duc’s three daughters are so incapacitated that Mr Duc has to move them to a new position every half hour or so.

     This is what makes Agent Orange different from other remnants of war. Like landmines, Agent Orange was spread indiscriminately. But its poison discriminated in the worst possible way by skipping the soldiers and punishing their children. Many are now in their thirties and even the outreach workers at AEPD – who were severely wounded in the war and know something about the challenge of recovery – find it difficult to see how they can be “empowered.”

     Tuan seemed different. Even in his wheelchair I thought that his skills, his optimism and the devotion of his parents would help him to pull through. But Agent Orange is unforgiving. Like his older brother, Tuan suffered from hemophilia. In 2015, he was already receiving monthly transfusions at the Hue hospital. He seemed more listless during our second meeting in 2016 and suffered a major seizure in 2017.

     Things seemed to get better earlier this year when my colleague Karen visited. Tuan had returned home and our buffalo had produced a calf. But most of the money had been spent on medical bills, added to which Tuan’s modelling equipment had been destroyed by a flood. Karen’s photo showed a deflated family. In the end it was the hemophilia that killed Tuan.

     Our current Peace Fellow in Vietnam, Marcela, visited Tuan’s family last week to pay our respects and tell Tuan’s parents that we shared their sadness. Like Tuan, Marcela was born long after the War but she understands it much better now. As do we all. That may be Tuan’s final gift.

     *

311. Garden of Opportunity

     September 13, 2018 12:35 pm Leave a Comment

     In my opinion, Nepal is one of the most beautiful countries that I have had the opportunity to travel to. As is expected of any developing country, Nepal has its own unique complexities, but has huge possibilities in the tourism sector. Tourism remains the largest industry in Nepal and the largest source of foreign exchange and revenue. Travel and tourism are therefore the key drivers of the economic growth. According to the World Travel Guide, Nepal was one of the favorite destination spots and has attracted hundreds of thousands of tourists. This is because of its beautiful scenery, unique land features, favorable climatic conditions, biodiversity, cultures, and hospitable people. Below are some examples of its resources:

     Birthplace of Buddha

     Lumbini is a Buddhist pilgrimage site in the Rupandehi District of Province No. 5 in Nepal. It is the place where, according to Buddhist tradition, Queen Mayadevi gave birth to Siddhartha Gautama. Gautama, who achieved enlightenment sometime around 528 BCE, became the Buddha and founded Buddhism.

     

     Highest Peaks in the World

     Nepal is home to eight of the world’s 14 tallest peaks, including the world’s highest mountain, Mt. Everest (8,848m). It is the most suitable tourism place for the tourists who like trekking, mountaineering, safari and various adventurous mountain sport activities.

     

     Rich Ancient Art & Architecture

     The country is rich in ancient arts and architecture. This forms part of their civilization, origin and identification. It is considered a measure of wealth by many Nepali people. These structures have been well maintained and provide yet another tourist attraction.

     

     Historic & Religious Sites

     Aside from the birthplace of Buddha, Nepal consists of various religious, cultural, historical and natural heritages like Pashupatinath, Boudhanath, Swayambhunath, Muktinath, and Halesi Mahadev which have some unique features and represents ancient civilizations. There are also many temples.

     

     

     

     Diverse Landscapes & Topography

     Nepal is broadly classified into 3 landscapes. The Himalayas, Hills & Valleys, and ‘Terai’ Region.

     

     

     Thank You Nepal, You were good to me ?!

312. Dr. Shah and Mr. Bhai

     September 8, 2018 10:18 am Leave a Comment

     

     The double-hatted principal of Suryodaya School is very committed to his students, but also an actor that mostly played the role of a vilain in more than 65 movies. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     “I need your support to provide the children with stationery. It’s about 10.000 rupees”, wrote the principal of Suryodaya school in a letter addressed to CONCERN.

      

     Raj Kumar Shah is running Suryodaya primary school in Lalitpur, south from Kathmandu, for 36 years now. Six women and one man are teaching 85 children from grade 1 to 5. Shree Phaidhoka Lower Secondary School is one of the 7 schools supported by CONCERN. The school is situated in Imadol, an area bordering the city of Patan, where the landscape alternates between the bright green of rice plantation, wealthy and less fortunate houses, and the brick factories’ chimneys to be seen in the distance. More than 4 brick factories are surrounding the school, including KC and W, the largest of Imadol. Many families are working there during seasonal time, once the monsoon is over and the bricks can properly dry, generally from October to May. Manisha Nepali is supported by CONCERN and AP since 2017. She never lived in a brick factory but is working in the kilns in dry season. On Saturdays and public holidays, her main tasks are to flip bricks and to put these into piles. The 12-years old student started helping her mother in the kilns two years ago.

     

     The little playground from Suryodaya School where 85 pupils from grade 1 to 5 are used to play during recess. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     

     Manisha is doing very good at school and her teacher considers her to be able to achieve her dream of being a nurse if she continues to be as hardworking. She added that Manisha’s household is difficult because of an alcoholic and violent father. However, Manisha seems to take refuge in her studies that she said she loved to pursue, especially sciences. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     From the first day, the difference to other schools previously seen was striking. The children’s precarious clothing condition particularly drew my attention. It seems insane to me to compare levels of poverty when families struggle everyday to feed their children, especially because all families supported by CONCERN are from a very poor economic background. When one child comes barefoot to school, or with ruined sandals, while another supported student wears shoes – even though the shoes might be worn out, as I mentioned in my previous blog – it is appealing to me that these shoeless children deserve more help and attention.

     

     Many children are in need of a school dress in Suryodaya School. The kids in the back wear their brand new uniforms sponsored by CONCERN, but many more school dresses are needed for the pupils. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     

     The difference between those with shoes and those without is striking. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     I never saw children so genuinely happy to get a new school dress. It was a very touching but also heart-breaking moment. However, as one can expect, when 10 children receive sponsored uniforms, it raises incomprehension and a feeling of injustice for the remaining children that are also in deep need of those. It also raises again the omnipresent challenge of the development sector: if it is known in advance that an organisation can’t sponsor all children, should it still sponsor only a few, at the risk of creating tensions between pupils and their families, giving them the feeling that some are “worth” the sponsorship and not the others? If the organisation choses to sponsor only a few kids, how to choose these in a fair way? Depending on the utilitarist vision of each organisation, the decision and their implementation may vary, but the consequences are the same: a line is drawn between two distinct groups. That dichotomy can lead to damages to the opposite of what the sponsorship aimed to achieve.

     

     Anmol is an average student that repeated class 1 and according to his teacher he is now doing carefully his homework and is eager to learn. His grandmother brings him to school everyday and cares about his education. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     

     Kamala is a 6-years old girl enrolled at Suryodaya school in Imadol (Lalitpur), who is supported jointly by CONCERN and AP since 2018. Her mother work in a brick factory and her father is a worker in the labour sector. She never lived in a brick factory but she helps her mom in seasonal time, where she is mixing mud all day on Saturdays. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     

     Sabin is a 6-years old student enrolled at Suryodaya school in Imadol (Lalitpur), who is supported jointly by CONCERN and AP since 2018. His mother is working as a construction labourer his father is absent. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     Facing the incomprehension and jealousy from the other children enrolled at Suryodaya school that were not supported by CONCERN and did not receive a brand new school dress, Raj Kumar took the necessary steps to remedy the situation. The days following our uniform distribution, the principal and his friends had taken the measurements of 35 kids in need of a school dress and went to the tailor shop to sponsor 35 more uniforms. “If tie and belt are compulsory, no child would come to school, because no family can afford it. I want to see my students in school, accordingly you will see many of them without tie and belt”, told us the principal and his statement had so much the ring of truth.

      

     

     Raj Kumar Shah standing at Shree Phaidhoka Lower Secondary School’s gate. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     

     Seven teachers and one assistant are working at Suryodaya School in Imadol. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     Raj Kumar’s path is at the opposite of the roles of supervillains he is used to play in Nepali mainstream movies and series. Aged 18 and dreaming about becoming an actor, he left his village Goadbazar situated in Siddhartha district of the Nepal’s region of Terai, to try his luck in Kathmandu. In the capital, he eventually started to play in Nepali TV films and dramas, and meanwhile started to give free tuition to children from disadvantaged families that could not afford to go to school. Only a few years later, he became the principal of Suryodaya school, combining his actor career with his commitment to children living in a poor economic household.

     

     39 years ago the principal of Suryodaya School left his village for Kathmandu following his dream to become an actor. And he has been successful! He played in 65 movies until now. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     As such, for 8 children out of the 10 kids supported in Suryodaya school, it is the first year that they are enrolled in the 50 children program. They have been chosen by Raj Kumar because of their particularly vulnerable situation, even though they do not work in brick factories. Anmol (7) has been chosen by the principal of Suryodaya school, to be supported by CONCERN this year, because he is considered as being particularly vulnerable. His father passed away and his mother left home leaving Anmol to his grandparents that take care of him. Both of them worked as labourers but because they are already very old and Anmol’s only family, he would be all by himself if anything should happen. Raj Kumar also chose Bikash (10) to be sponsored because he considers him as living in a very vulnerable family, where the father is absent. His mother is raising Bikash and his two older siblings alone. His brother (15) dropped out from school last year and is now working in a hotel, while his sister is in class 5. The two brothers Raghav (4) and Rupak (8) also deserve particular support. Their mother run away and his father remarried with a woman that does not care about the children. Raghav and Rupak often have to go to their grandparents’ house to get food, medicine and attention. These kids are not working in a brick factory – a condition to be enrolled in the 50 Children Program – but they need help, and it seems difficult to criticize Raj Kumar’s choice to pick up the most vulnerable children for the program.

     

     According to his teacher, Bikash would improve quickly his school level if he is encouraged and supported, but he has a single mother that is very busy and has barely time to look after him. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     

     On the question if he is working, Raghav answered that he was “catching frogs”. He does not work in a brick factory and also does not live there, but he knows where the brick factory is situated because “there are a lot of cars stationed at the entrance”. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     

     Rupak is a 8-years old student enrolled at Suryodaya school in Imadol (Lalitpur), who is supported jointly by CONCERN and AP since 2018. According to the teachers, Rupak has an average level and concentration problems, but he has potential to realise, if he received more attention. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

      

     When I first started to ask Raj Kumar a few questions about himself and the role he plays as a principal in struggling against child labour in Imadol area, particularly affected by children working in brick factories, he did not really answer. He urged me to provide his school with stationery, food for the children or more money for educational tools. Once Raj Kumar realised that my only power was to write about him to draw the reader’s attention on his school children’s needs, he started to open himself up. I drew the portrait of a man whose perseverance and beliefs in the power of education, added to a bunch of dynamism and generosity express a strong commitment to the children and their families. For the past 27 years, he played the role of a villain, but behind his screen image of diabolic Mr. Bhai of the movie Bandhan (1996) and over the years, he helped hundreds of kids. He does his best to ensure the children a bright future, trying to overcome their condition by supporting their school education. Raj Kumar is far more close to Dr. Shah than to Mr. Bhai.

     

     The walls of Suryodaya School have been recently decorated by an international NGO. (Lalitpur/Lara Cerosky)

313. The Climb

     August 27, 2018 1:12 pm 1 Comment

     Meet Honorable Dhamkali Chaudhary…50

     

     Dhamkali Chaudhary ~ 50.  Member of Provincial Assembly, Dang District

     She is a Member of Provincial Assembly, State No. 5, representative from Dang District and serves on the National Agricultural Committee. This is her story.

     Born in 1968 in Babai Gaun village in Dang district, Nepal, provincial assembly member Dhamkali Chaudhary grew up in a small village but in a large extended family of about 50-60 family members. Her entire family worked for a landlord who provided them with land and grain in exchange for their work and hired paralegal toronto landlord tenant for better property management. Her parents had 8 children in total (6 girls & 2 boys) and she was the eldest of them. Her parents supported the family working as tenant farmers. At this time, bonded labor was legal in Nepal. She says that her father told her that his grandfather owned 2 acres of land previously, but it was taken from him through trickery as he was too naïve and illiterate. This is how her entire extended family came to work for a landlord.

     Dhamkali always wanted to attend school like the children of the landlord she says. Every morning when they left for school, she would feel sad and wonder how it felt to attend school. She would write on flat rocks using a piece of stone while she would look after the cattle. She began performing domestic chores at the age of 8. Her entire childhood was spent on the farm and the cowshed. Dhamkali got married at the age of 15 and was freed from the bonded labor system. Her husband’s family owned land on which they practiced subsistence farming. She would also sell vegetables and firewood at a nearby local market. She is blessed with 4 children, 2 girls and 2 boys.

     Dhamkali began getting involved with BASE in 1999. I would attend trainings organized by BASE and I eventually signed up for a Women Adult Education Program that was being implemented by BASE. BASE assisted her, along with 2 other women, to register at school and facilitated them with the required registration fees. Unfortunately, she could attend school for 2 days out of the week and her son who was very young at the time would her accompany her to school. The rest of the week she would perform household chores and run her small business to supplement her husband’s income.

     Dhamkali and her daughter attended the same class from grade 5 – 9. Her daughter was very uncomfortable sharing a class with her mother but after some time she got accustomed to it. Young boys at school would make fun of her and tease her while at school. Her peers also did not welcome the idea of her attending school. They would often ask her what she would gain by attending school at such a ‘late’ age. Through it all, Dhamkali stayed focused and committed to completing her studies. She sat for her national exam (School Leaving Certificate, SLC) in 2005 but did not perform well. She re-sat the exam in 2009 and passed her exams. She hoped to attend college for further studies but was unable to because she wanted to use the available funds to send her children to college and give them the opportunity to further their studies.

     After passing her SLC exams, Dhamkali began working with WOREC Nepal. WOREC is a movement-based organization that focuses on the premise of women rights and social justice as a prerequisite for peace, social justice and sustainable development. She initially served as a social mobilizer and would advocate for women empowerment through mainstreaming. She then joined the Communist Party Nepal and became an active member of it. All this time, she maintained presence at the grassroot level with her local community. For instance, she is an active Executive Committee Member of a local Community Forest Users’ Group. Through WOREC, she was able to organize a number of sessions that dealt with women issues such as healthcare and domestic violence and through this she developed a lot of relationships with members of the public which would be vital for her political career. While working for WOREC, she also realized that the good work that was being done by NGOs could not be sustainable unless it received support from policy makers. She was nominated by her party to vie for the Member of Provincial Assembly position. She won the election and has been serving since December 2017.

     She concluded her story saying that she deeply believes in the slogan, ‘Women for Women’. Nepal needs more women political leaders she said. More than half of the Nepali population is female, but we certainly cannot say the same for its leaders. Though the percentage of women in politics has more than doubled over the last 20 years, it still stands at 23%, according to the World Economic Forum’s 2017 Global Gender Gap report, meaning we will see gender equality in political representation in about 82 years. But women’s voices are needed in the political arena now more than ever as women’s rights and access to healthcare are repeatedly at the center of debate, she said. Her advice to other young girls is to speak up for their rights and to read. She notes with concern that the dropout rate of girls in Nepal is on the rise and is urging them to remain in school and to complete their studies. Education is the key to success, she reminds me.

314. Two Swords

     August 19, 2018 12:25 am 2 Comments

     Backward Society Education (BASE) is usually described by its members and supporters as a nongovernmental organization (NGO) that implements development programs. After my stay in Tulsipur working closely with BASE, I realized that BASE is much more than that. It is a powerful social movement that is transforming the Tharu society and the socio-political relation between the Tharu and high caste Hindus in five districts (Dang, Bardiya, Banke, Kailali and Kanchanpur) of west Nepal.

     With more than 300,000 active members, and a staff of 262, BASE is, by far, one of the largest NGOs in Nepal. It is also the most successful. No other NGO in Nepal has been able to mobilize as many people as BASE to actively and effectively implement development programs. BASE, especially in its early stages, also encountered intense opposition from certain members of the landed ruling class in all five targeted districts. BASE’S leadership has since used various strategies that have largely neutralized this opposition.

     BASE’S success contains important lessons for both Nepali NGO staff members and expatriate development workers; especially those who are working with oppressed, impoverished ethnic minority groups. My primary reason for writing this blog is to pass these lessons on through a short account of BASE’s institutional development. A secondary reason is to continue to raise awareness about some serious human rights problems (bonded labor primary among them) that exist in BASE’S five target district. Another reason is to generate interest about grassroots leadership in other parts of Nepal. This is a very important aspect of Nepal’s development, and yet surprisingly little has been written about it. There is much that development professionals can learn from BASE’s very effective leadership.

     Meet Dilli Chaudhary (BASE’s Founder) and Churna Chaudhary (BASE’s Executive Director)…

     

     Dilli Chaudhary ~ Founder Of BASE

     

     Churna Chaudhary ~ Executive Director Of BASE

     In the directed leadership of these two, BASE has been able to achieve the following;

     • 300,000 members in five districts of western Nepal
     • Established a new decentralized administrative/organization structure
     • Designed and implemented over 50 projects since its inception

     There are several reasons for the tremendous support that BASE has received from the Tharu in western Nepal. Because of severe poverty and repression there was a tremendous pent-up need for the programs offered by BASE. Literacy, economic self-sufficiency, organizational strength and a capacity for rational, well-executed political activism are well empowering. Dilli was able to communicate this to the Tharu. With the generous help of many donors, BASE has been able to implement programs that have given the Tharu these resources.Decentralization has given BASE members the authority to design and implement program that address the specific needs of their community (at the village, area and district level,) this policy fosters a sense of  responsibility for, and pride in, BASE program among the organization’s members.Participation ion BASE programs in a real source of status for the Tharu as it makes them appear progressive to the Nepali society at large.

     As BASE’s membership has grown (to the point that the majority of the Tharu in hundreds of villages are BASE members) the peer pressure to join BASE activities has increased accordingly.

     Dilli’s extraordinary personal qualities and leadership skills have motivated many Tharu to join BASE. He has unshakable strength and commitment that has withstood beatings, imprisonment, destitution and extended periods of isolation. Dilli also has tremendous confidence and a certain regal bearing which along with his intelligence, political acumen and communication skills have won him the utter devotion of the Tharu in western Nepal.

     Dilli also has excellent interpersonal skills. He is always in complete control of his emotions and brings a remarkable combination of humility and assertiveness to his interactions with people. Dilli is strong enough to state what he believes in no matter how powerful the other person might be, and how much they might disagree with him, and he always treats people with courtesy and

     respect. I have never heard Dilli speak in a condescending manner to anyone. Dilli’s brilliance for communication has been a major factor in maintaining the solidarity and spirit of political activism that has made the Tharus’ grassroots movement so popular, powerful and dynamic. For, example, under Dilli’s direction plays were performed several times a year in Tharu villages. These plays depicted oppressive landlords, bonded laborers, theft of Tharu land and the subsequent mass migration of Tharu out of the Dang valley. These are powerful symbols which, through effective public portrayal, are recharged with meaning, reminding the Tharu of what they are fighting for, and against, and thus maintaining the dynamism of their movement.

     Dilli also brings his gifts of communication to one-on-one interaction with people. Dilli’s network of supporters includes people from many different countries. And even his Nepali backers include people from a variety of ethnic and caste/class backgrounds. And yet Dilli is usually able to communicate with all of them with an equal degree of effectiveness. One thing Dilli does is not tell people a lot about what he has done but emphasizes the showing of his achievements. Dilli does not verbally describe the literacy classes, income generating and health program activities, motivation of BASE members, or other aspects of his organization. He requests that all his visitors are taken out to the villages, shown BASE’s programs in action and lets them decide for themselves what BASE has achieved. And when Dilli does describe his organization to people, he usually does so clearly and particularly. I have never heard Dilli put his foot in his mouth or misrepresent himself or BASE in any way. When he decided to pursue a political career, he brought in Churna, who shadows his in every sense of the way.

     Churna is a very mature and has remarkable moral fortitude. He has remained uncorrupted by power despite implementing several projects that have received donations of large amounts. They both still lead a very traditional life-style and are in constant contact with the Tharu villagers who support BASE. They have shared all of the risks and rewards of working for BASE and this a major reason why the Tharu in western Nepal remain so devoted to both BASE and Dilli, as Dilli himself says, “I must continue to live and work with the people we support. If I was to abandon their way of life or stay out of contact with them for an extended period I would lose their trust and never regain it.”

     Dilli also has tremendous political acumen, which has manifested itself in a variety of ways. For example, Dilli has done a masterful job of building up a strong network of supporters (from several different countries and Nepal). These include officials (both expatriate and Nepali) from various development agencies, Nepali civil servants, (including policemen, agricultural technicians and engineers), scholars, lawyers, diplomats (including Bangladesh’s ambassador to Nepal), social workers and tribal rights groups. This diverse array of supporters provides Dilli with different kind of resources, including financial support, training, advice and legal-political clout and protection. Dilli also has an uncanny ability to accurately judge people’s character and professional potential very soon after meeting them. This has enabled Dilli to consistently make good decisions about who to cultivate a professional relationship with, and who to avoid. As a result, BASE has benefitted tremendously from those individuals who Dilli has recruited to provide the organization with technical, political and/or financial support.

     Dilli and Churna are both amazingly precocious leaders. However, it is important to note that Dilli’s father was also a very successful, gifted leader who served as Padhan Panch (equivalent of Mayor) of Tulsipur, and later as a member of the Jilla Panchayat Samiti (District Governing Council). Dilli’s father’s reputation as a leader was so good that many people, including important government officials, used to come to him for advice. Dilli’s whole childhood can be seen as a “political apprenticeship” where he learned the Art of Leadership under the tutelage of his father and now has passed down his skills to his

315. Nepali Girls Will Use New Law to Resist Menstrual Banishment

     August 17, 2018 4:35 pm Leave a Comment

     Nepali Girls Will Use New Law to Resist Menstrual Banishment

      

316. Bhagawati Shahi – The Exception that Proves the Rule?

     4:59 am 2 Comments

     This series of blog posts tells the stories of the people affected by chhaupadi, with a view to exploring different aspects of the practice in depth. All testimony and photographs in this series have been made available with the relevant subject’s express consent. A general introduction to chhaupadi is available here and there are more photographs in this album. 

      

     “My parents are very rigid when it comes to chhaupadi” says 18 year-old Bhagawati, who lives in Malika village, Dailekh District. She began menstruating when she was 16, and has since then been spending seven days every month in a cow shed a ten minute walk away from her house.

     In addition to the usual ban on entering the family home, Bhagawati’s family practices an orthodox form of chhaupadi that includes prescriptions which are slowly disappearing from other parts of mid- and far-western Nepal. Like most other girls in her district, she is forbidden from having physical contact with other persons. This rule is interpreted more strictly by her family members, however, who forbid her from even looking at a man while she has her period. Similarly, beyond a mere prohibition on the consumption of fruits or vegetables, she is not allowed to touch any such plants. If she does, her family believes that they will stop producing fruits or vegetables.

      

     

     Bhagawati Shahi

      

     Ironically, Bhagawati’s experiences seem to illustrate that more severe chhaupadi cases require commensurate exceptions to each rule, if the practice is to remain viable. For example, the rule prohibiting physical contact with other persons does not seem to apply to the young children who bring her food to eat in the cow shed. Despite this, Bhagawati says, “there are times when I’m extremely hungry but there is no one around to ask for food”.

     Likewise, the belief that she will cause plants to stop producing anything edible if she touches them does not apply to staple crops. When combined with the prohibition on entering the family home, this exception has extremely harmful consequences for Bhagawati. It has led her family to conclude that she needs to work long hours in the fields while she is menstruating, to make up for all the household chores she can’t do in the family home. “Although I am forbidden from doing so many things when I am menstruating, working on the farm is not one of them,” Bhagawati says, a mix of irony and frustration in her voice. “We are actually made to work harder during this time than usual.” This despite the fact that she sleeps badly in the cow shed and has to survive on a meagre diet that cuts out all meat, dairy, fruits and vegetables.

      

     

     Rice paddies in a neighboring village. Bhagawati spends her summers planting rice in her family’s field.

      

     Exhaustion is the result of all of this, which makes it difficult for Bhagawati to work towards her personal goals. “I plan to study hard and to become a knowledgeable person,” she says. Next year she will be in the final grade of Binayek School, which is an hour’s walk from her house, and hopes to continue her academic trajectory thereafter: “I want to study for as long as I can”. It is difficult for her to find the time and energy to devote to her studies, however, while she is subjected to chhaupadi. Given that she is forced into the cow shed for seven days each month, Bhagawati has to work harder than usual a quarter of the total time she spends at school, to overcome the effects of poor nutrition, bad sleep and hard physical labor. This puts her on an uneven footing with her male classmates, who do not have to deal with these disadvantages.

      

     

317. Durga Shahi – The Long Arm of the Law

     August 13, 2018 9:30 am 2 Comments

     This series of blog posts tells the stories of the people affected by chhaupadi, with a view to exploring different aspects of the practice in depth. All testimony and photographs in this series have been made available with the relevant subject’s express consent. A general introduction to chhaupadi is available here and there are more photographs in this album. 

      

     19 year-old Durga comes from a community that practices an orthodox form of chhaupadi. The prescriptions are strict and customary enforcement is rigorous. She gives some examples, drawing on her own experience, to explain what this means in practice.

      

     

     Durga during her interview

      

     “My family is very traditional and does not even allow me to enter the compound of our house. When I start menstruating, I have to stay away from this area for seven days. During this time, I am also forbidden from drinking or eating any milk products—if I do, my family believes that the buffalo or cow that gave the milk will become impure, and any milk that it produces can no longer be offered to the gods in our temples.” Almost every imaginable aspect of her life is circumscribed during this time in some way—even down to her own personal hygiene. “I am only allowed to bathe during the first day of my period, and then on the third, fifth and seventh day”—regardless of whether she is actually still menstruating at that point. In addition, she and the other banished women are forbidden from touching communal water taps in the village. Their community has installed separate chhaupadi taps so that even the girls’ water source is segregated.

      

     

     Shepherds on the terraces surrounding Malika

      

     What is it about Malika village that makes it so resistant to chhaupadi reform? Located in Dailekh District, the community is nestled between steep hills reaching altitudes of over 4,000 meters. There are no paved roads connecting the village to the closest town, and landslides often cut it off from surrounding areas (my colleagues and I had to walk for five hours to reach it). Given its remoteness, the lack of economic opportunity in Malika is perhaps unsurprising. Durga’s father (just like many men in the area) left the community to find work in India, where he serves as a contract laborer, leaving Durga’s mother to look after the farm. The Nepali government’s policies to eradicate chhaupadi have many obstacles to overcome if they are going to have any meaningful impact in this community.

      

     

     A typical farmhouse of Dailekh District – taken close to a neighboring village of Malika

      

     In 2005, the Supreme Court of Nepal declared chhaupadi an unconstitutional practice in a landmark ruling, using its powers to bring the legal framework of the time in line with the former Constitution. It issued a directive order requiring the government to take a number of measures to tackle the practice. The Ministry of Women, Children and Social Welfare accordingly introduced the Chhaupadi Elimination Directive in 2008, formally committing the government to, among others, a public awareness campaign and the introduction of programs for social, financial and political empowerment of the affected women and girls.

     This Friday, 17 August 2018 (or Bhadra 1, 2075 in the Nepali calendar), marks another milestone in the legal battle against chhaupadi. On this day, the Criminal Code Act 2047, which contains provisions that criminalize the practice, will enter into force. Anyone who forces a girl or woman into a chhau goth will be liable for a fine of NRs 3,000 (approximately USD 30) and / or up to three months’ imprisonment.

      

     

     Photograph taken from the dirt road leading to Malika

      

     The Nepali government and civil society have the tools they need on the statute books to eliminate chhaupadi, but can the long arm of the law reach Malika and make a difference for girls like Durga? Enforcement of laws criminalizing similar traditional practices (such as child marriage) is often lackluster, owing to insufficient resources for effective implementation and the deeply-rooted social beliefs that underpin the practice—beliefs that in many cases are held by the very agents of the state who are expected to enforce the law. For this reason, there is consensus among civil society actors that the law is in and of itself insufficient to eradicate chhaupadi. When combined with other advocacy measures, however, it becomes an important tool in the anti-chhaupadi toolbox.

     Durga told me that she knows very few girls who would be willing to file a criminal complaint against their parents. However, she believes the law will have an important deterring effect: “it will help if people realize that it is illegal”. In order to ensure that the legislation has this impact, it will be important for NGOs to raise as much awareness as possible about the law and how it works. This will give young women seeking to escape the practice a very strong argument that they can raise with their families, many of which are already taking gradual steps to moderate their chhaupadi practice.

      

     

     Durga after her interview, immersed in tought

      

     If there are any brave young women and girls who would be willing to hold their families criminally liable for forcing them into the chhau goth, it will be important to give them access to legal aid. This will help to ensure that correct procedures are followed in registering their claims and that they are fully aware of the steps they need to take to build a strong case. Such advice can only be given by experienced legal practitioners, as they will depend on the facts of each individual case. Fortunately, NGOs such as the Forum for Women, Law and Development (FWLD), a partner of the Centre for Agro-Ecology and Development (my host organization), offer such pro bono services to claimants who would otherwise be unable to afford them.

      

     

     Photograph taken at the FWLD office in Kathmandu during a meeting attended by CAED Executive Director, Samita Pradhan (second from left). CAED and FWLD have analyzed the extent to which the government has adequately prepared for the enforcement of the criminalizing chhaupadi in a report for the UN Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women. Courtesy of FWLD.

      

     With such a multi-pronged approach, Nepali civil society can use the law criminalizing chhaupadi that will enter into force this week to challenge the practice from multiple angles. As with most movements for social change, rights advocates can achieve the greatest results by tackling a given practice from different fronts as part of a concerted strategy. This is the best way to help girls like Durga, who doesn’t want to report her parents to the police, but fully intends to use the new law to her advantage. “I already know that for me, chhaupadi won’t end overnight,” she says. “This change will happen gradually, as awareness grows among my people.”

      

     

318. Child Marriage and Religion in Zimbabwe

     August 10, 2018 9:40 am 3 Comments

     

     Evelyn photographed in Harare, June 2018.

      

     When Evelyn was thirteen years old, her brother became seriously ill and she went to her village’s Apostolic church to seek help from one of its spiritual healers. The African Apostolic Church mixes evangelical Christian beliefs with traditional culture and has over a million followers in Zimbabwe. Colloquially, it is called the “White Garment Church” because its devotees wear spotless white robes and worship outdoors under white banners. Drive through Harare on Friday, the Apostolic day of worship, and you’ll see groups of white-robed worshipers gathered in open-air churches in fields or under Zimbabwe’s namesake rock formations.

     Evelyn prayed fervently at the White Garment Church for her brother’s recovery. After the service, the Apostolic healer asked Evelyn to remain behind and speak with him. She agreed, hoping that he would offer a special prayer for her brother. Once the other worshipers had left and they were alone, the priest raped her.

     When Evelyn told her parents about the assault, they confronted the healer, even though he was the son of the local chief and had considerable influence in their village. Evelyn’s attacker offered to marry her, saying that he would pay Evelyn’s father Lobola, or bride price, and compensate him with cattle.

     

     An Apostolic priest and his congregation in Harare.

      

     Evelyn wanted nothing to do with her attacker—he was in his fifties and she was only thirteen—but her parents forced her to marry him because she was no longer a virgin and they believed that her lack of virginity brought shame to the family.

     Evelyn’s marriage was not a happy one. Her husband had four other wives, all of whom were young women or girls, and she soon discovered that he was both physically and sexually abusive. Evelyn did not want to have children in this environment and began taking family planning tablets, but her husband discovered them and beat her. Members of the African Apostolic Church often seek to elevate their standing within the congregation by having many children whom they can bring into the church as new followers.

     When Evelyn discovered she was pregnant, she attempted to escape, but her husband found her and dragged her home. “Every five months, I would try to run away,” she told the Woman Advocacy Project. “But he would look for me everywhere and find me. I once tried to take my son and run, I went to my brother’s house, but I saw him coming in the distance and I fled. I went to my aunties’ place, but he didn’t have any trouble locating me there.” After one of her attempts to escape, Evelyn’s husband took all of her clothes and hid them in order to prevent her from leaving.

     After several years and six unsuccessful escape attempts, Evelyn managed to flee to Harare. Although she was finally free of her husband’s violence, she had to leave her son behind—a choice that she still finds tremendously painful. Evelyn’s husband is now the chief of their village and he has considerable influence over the local courts, which have awarded him sole custody of the child. In secret, Evelyn used to visit her son at school; when her husband learned of the visits, the school banned her from the premises. Her husband has threatened to notify the police if Evelyn tries to contact her son again. It has been more than three years since she last saw the child.

     

     An Apostolic place of worship in the Waterfalls neighborhood of Harare.

      

     My last few posts have discussed how poverty, limited access to education, inadequate knowledge of sexual and reproductive health, and harmful social norms fuel child marriage in Zimbabwe. In this post I’ll take a look at another cause of early marriage: the harmful practices that are common in African Apostolic sects.

     Child marriage, forced marriage, and other human rights violations, including virginity testing, are widely practiced among Zimbabwe’s Apostolic groups, and particularly in rural areas. Many of these congregations discourage girls’ education and forbid married girls to attend school. According to a UNFPA report, rates of child marriage are significantly higher among Apostolics: 23% of Apostolicadolescents are married, compared to 9% of adolescents who belong to traditional religious communities.

     Apostolic Church doctrine places a high value on virginity. Girls as young as twelve are often pushed into marriages—usually too far older men—in order to ensure that they do not become sexually active out of wedlock. As one woman member of an Apostolic church in Zimbabwe reported to Human Rights Watch, “As soon as a girl reaches puberty, any man in the church can claim her for his wife.”

     These marriages are sometimes forced. “Some men in these [Apostolic] churches claim to have dreamt being married to you, they say, ‘you were given to me in spirit’ and you are forced to go to him,” a girl in rural Zimbabwe told UNFPA.

     Several young women told WAP that young girls are often lined up and chosen for marriage by White Garment Church elders. This selection usually follows “virginity testing,” or the insertion of fingers into the vagina in order to confirm that the hymen is intact. (The World Health Organization calls this practice a human rights violation that has no scientific grounding.)  “If found to be virgins they get marks on their foreheads. Older men in the church will then choose these ‘fresh girls’ to become their wives, often joining polygamous unions. If a man marries a woman who is not a virgin, she is required to find a virgin girl for her husband to marry as compensation,” said Archbishop Johannes Ndanga, president of the Apostolic Churches Council of Zimbabwe.

     

     Zivanai and her children in Chitungwiza, Zimbabwe.

      

     Polygamy is common in Apostolic sects. Zivanai, a 28-year-old member of the Apostolic faith, told WAP that when she was eighteen years old, she married a man who had two other wives. “His first wife has six children, his second wife has four,”Zivanai said. “We all stay with him and each night he goes in a circle, from one woman to the next.”Over the past ten years, Zivanai has given birth to four children and is currently pregnant. Her husband does not provide any financial support and none of her children are attending school.

     The Apostolic sect rewards men who bring many children into the church as followers. This rewards system incentivizes husbands to have more wives and children than they can support. As a result, these unions often lead to poverty and leave women and children vulnerable to domestic abuse. “My father had six wives and there were twenty-six children,” Rudo, a young woman living in Chitungwiza, told WAP. “My father was praying with the White Garment Church. That is the culture. When you are growing in the church, you have many wives to bring in more followers.”

     Rudo’s father was often violent. After several years of abuse, Rudo’s mother and two of the other wives ran away.“After my mother left, there was no one to take care of me, no one cared for me,” she said. Her brother would hit her and Rudo felt alone and helpless. “I sought out a boyfriend because I faced a difficult situation at home,” she told WAP. When she was seventeen, she was seen out with a boyfriend. Worried that she was no longer a virgin, Rudo’s family forced her to marry the boy. Today Rudo and her husband are still together and have five children.“I’m not happy in my marriage. I feel like I’m living my mother’s life,” she says.

     In recent years, several Apostolic church leaders have pledged to end child marriage in their congregations, but these efforts have yet to reach many communities throughout Zimbabwe. WAP calls on all Apostolic sects to respect women and girls’ rights by ending child and forced marriages, committing to women and girls’ equality, and discontinuing the degrading and unscientific practice of virginity testing.

     Names and identifying details in this story have been changed.

      

     

     An Apostolic congregation in Harare.

319. #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).

      

320. 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)

321. The Pointy End

     August 6, 2018 7:52 am 3 Comments

     The economic status of the women of Nepal, in rural areas particularly, lags far behind that of their male counterparts. There is a strong bias in favor of male offspring in the country. This means that the girl child in Nepal is discriminated against from as early as birth and does not enjoy equal access to opportunities to enable her achieve development. This custom is the main reason why the situation for Nepalese women is characterized by low levels of access to education, economic, social and political opportunities as well as healthcare. Despite continued efforts by the government, non-governmental organizations and international development agencies to empower women in Nepal, significant improvement in their social and economic status is yet to be seen and felt at the grass root level.

     

     Women of the Tharu Community – Bijuri Village

     Sustainable and continued development in Nepal will remain unattainable unless women achieve equal footing with me in the development process. There are significant gender-based inequalities in practically every sector. Disparities in access to education, ownership of assets, education, healthcare and social and economic mobility are still profound. The available empirical evidence from the 2011 census clearly suggests that the illiteracy levels among women are significantly higher than those of men (ranging from 26% to 47% among males and 47% to 66% among women). The data on the literacy levels for the Tharu and other disadvantaged groups of people is not available from the 2011 census. Given the fact that the social and economic conditions of poor people like the Tharu has not changed much in the past few years, it could be assumed that their literacy level also may have hardly registered any significant change. It is important to note however, that surveys conducted by INSEC (Informal Sector Service Center) suggests that the literacy situation among the Tharu has been improving in recent years.

     According to the Gender Development Index (GDI), Nepalese women face far worse socioeconomic conditions than women from any other South Asian country. Their maternal mortality rate associated with teenage pregnancies and low-quality healthcare services is alarming. It has been ranked among the highest in the world. In the professional arena, women remain far behind men as well. Participation in politics is yet another example. Only one-fifth of women hold political seats and the same pattern is consistent in professional occupations and administrative jobs. There is a substantial proportion of women who are economically active but the majority of them are casual laborers and / or unpaid family workers who are involved in subsistence farming as their way of life. More women need to take charge of their individual agendas, raise their status and capacity and push forward the country’s economic development goals. This is why the government and many NGOs have focused their efforts on empowering women. This is a concept that has taken center stage in the eradication of global poverty agenda and in line with several SDGs. The initiative rests on capacity building, awareness-raising, increased decision-making power at the household, community and national levels and organizing women in order to overcome unequal and unfair disparities.

     

     Women of the Tharu Community – Sukaura Village

     The concept of women empowerment places an emphasis on self-reliance but realizes a wider dimension for a much broader understanding and application. Allow me quote UNICEF’s broader women’s empowerment framework that focusses on five levels of equality:

     (From UNICEF’s website)

     1. Welfare: addressing the basic needs of women considering the structural causes
     2. Access: providing women access to resources such as schooling and micro-credit
     3. Conscientization: helping women to recognize the problems caused by existing socio-cultural arrangements, and their roles and rights to deal with inequalities
     4. Participation: encouraging women to take part in decision-making and working collectively to gain political representation
     5. Control: the final stage of empowerment where the balance of power between men and women is equal and the contributions of women are fully recognized

     

     I particularly like this empowerment framework because it can help development agencies including the government to determine at what point they would want to intervene so as to champion for equality. It is my personal opinion that one of the most important strategies that the government, non-governmental organization and international agencies need to focus more on is emphasizing women’s literacy and vocational training to spur local employment. There is a latent demand for education among these women who not only realize the value of education but want to attend schools and literacy classes in order to lead a better life. They acknowledge the empowering role of education. The ability to read and write is seen as a necessity to access information and employment opportunities. Some of the daughters of the women I met during my field visits to several villages already own a sewing machine. This could be an easy transition for them to learn the skill of the trade without breaking the bank.

     

     There is a tendency these days to give up on poverty, to dismiss it as a sad but inevitable part of our lives, particularly when even the economic giants of our time face economic challenges of their own. However, it is worth to remember that sheer grit, and a helping hand, can sometimes blaze a trail where none seems possible. I came to Nepal partly to identify and design a social, innovative project that could benefit Kamlaris and lift them out of poverty and the social injustice that they have faced for decades. I promptly met many amazing women who shared their stories with me and who reminded me something that my mother and my grandmother have always jokingly told me.

     “If you educate a man, you educate an individual. If you educate a woman, you educate a nation.” ~ African Proverb

     Lets give these women a chance to change their nation!

322. Laxmi Bik – Superstition Ain’t the Way

     August 5, 2018 4:58 am 4 Comments

     This series of blog posts tells the stories of the people affected by chhaupadi, with a view to exploring different aspects of the practice in depth. All testimony and photographs in this series have been made available with the relevant subject’s express consent. A general introduction to chhaupadi is available here and there are more photographs in this album. 

      

     16 year-old Laxmi Bik, who has been spending close to a week every month in her family’s chhau goth (menstrual hut) for three years now, is no stranger to superstition. “Being there makes me very afraid and makes me want to stay inside the house,” she says. “I’ve told my parents this many times, but they don’t listen.”

      

     

     Laxmi Bik tells Dila Kadel of her ordeal. 

      

     There is a voice in Laxmi’s house that speaks louder than her own while remaining inaudible. The message it brings is not one of clearly articulated and verifiable facts or reasoned arguments, but rather of fear and trepidation. This voice clearly has her mother and grandmother’s ear. Laxmi had been warned by them many times not to enter the family home while she was menstruating, to avoid causing her entire family punishment.

     Laxmi may not believe in the doomsday forecasts of this voice, but she has good reason to fear for their effects. One day, during the middle of her period, Laxmi gathered the courage to show her family once and for all that they would not be punished for failing to banish her from the house. She walked from the chhau goth to the family home and stepped into the kitchen. Her mother turned away from the fire to see who had come inside and, after laying her eyes on Laxmi, looked as if she had just seen a ghost.

     Her body, already wound tight at the unexpected sight of her impure daughter, suddenly released its tension in a relentless, full-body tremble, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. “It was as if a god had entered inside her”, Laxmi recalled with a defeated and somewhat fearful tone. Her grandmother, who was also in the room, reacted a little later (perhaps only after seeing Laxmi’s mother), complaining of an acute onset of unbearable pain. Laxmi left the house—the family home to which she belongs—and both grandmother and mother reported to feel much better in her absence.

     This video gives an impression of the role that superstition plays in perpetuating the chhaupadi practice. Courtesy of Guardian News & Media Ltd. 

      

     This conversation with Laxmi reminded me of part of the lyrics to the famous Stevie Wonder song: “When you believe in things that you don’t understand / Then you suffer / Superstition ain’t the way”. The devastating difference for Laxmi, however, is that she is the greatest victim of a superstition in which only her grandmother and mother believe.

      

323. Manish Sapkota – Agent of Social Change

     August 3, 2018 6:13 am 4 Comments

     This series of blog posts tells the stories of the people affected by chhaupadi, with a view to exploring different aspects of the practice in depth. All testimony and photographs in this series have been made available with the relevant subject’s express consent. A general introduction to chhaupadi is available here and there are more photographs in this album. 

      

     “I try to talk with my friends and peers about the dangers of chhaupadi, both inside and outside school,” says 15-year old Manish Sapkota. We are sitting on the porch of one of the dwellings on the main market street of Gutu village, Surkhet District. The house is made of wood pillars covered with a mud rich in clay, leaving the floors and walls with a smooth, even finish. Manish, who lives next door, is quiet for a while and then adds “my friends usually listen, but their parents don’t.” After another pause, “whatever happens, I will keep raising awareness, because such a bad practice needs to end.”

      

     

     Market Street in Gutu village, Surkhet District.

      

     Manish has been chosen to participate in the “peer educator” program of the Centre for Agro-Ecology and Development (CAED). Every year, CAED convenes a group of bright adolescents with a strong commitment to social justice for a comprehensive “life skills” training session. “During this annual training, we learn about sexual and reproductive rights and health, principles of gender equality and related social justice issues such as child marriage,” Manish explains with enthusiasm. “We also learn how to communicate and advocate for our rights in a culturally-sensitive way, so that we can understand how to talk about these difficult issues in our communities without being afraid.” CAED reinforces these annual trainings with quarterly meetings, to help the peer educators brush up on what they have learned.

      

     

     Dipika Shrestha and Dila Kadel on their way to meet a group of peer educators. Dipika works for CAED and Dila, who conducts training sessions for the peer educators, works for a local partner organization (Women’s Association for Marginalized Women). 

      

     When asked what the peer educators do with such newly-acquired skills and knowledge, Manish explains that their core duty is to make it possible to start meaningful conversations about taboo subjects in their respective villages. Naturally, the peer educators are inclined to start having these conversations with their friends first. The result, as followers of this blog will recall from the stories of Sunita Dhungana and Balika Bik, is that young members of the community are empowered as agents of social change as they acquire the confidence to discuss very sensitive religious and superstitious practices with their parents. Some, such as Balika, have even managed to convince their families to allow daughters, sisters and mothers to sleep inside while they are menstruating.

      

     

     A mural painted by the students of the secondary school in Gutu depicting a man who experiences the dangers and superstitions surrounding menstruation. In the series of images (from left to right), he begins menstruating, is forced to sleep in the chhau goth (hut), is given food by relatives (who are not allowed to touch him) and sees a poisonous snake near the hut. 

      

     “We also learn very practical things,” says Manish. “For example, in last year’s training session, I was taught how to make reusable sanitary pads.” Feminine hygiene products are often unaffordable for members of Manish’s community, and, without them, girls find it difficult to attend school when they have their period. “Now I regularly teach my friends how to make these reusable pads, which make everyone’s lives much easier.”

      

     

     Classroom in Gutu village. 

      

     I wonder how my readers picture Manish, and whether they would be surprised to discover that he is a boy? Have you ever been introduced to a young man, in the place where you live, who spoke of periods and pads and the stigmas surrounding menstruation—without seeming uncomfortable in the slightest—during your first conversation?

      

     

     Manish Sapkota

      

     Manish’s courage to breach these topics within his community is a testament to the success of the peer educator program. It proves that it can instill the drive for social change among all members of the younger generation—even those who are not themselves subjected to such gender-based discrimination. With such widespread condemnation of the shame and harm that women suffer as a result of chhaupadi among the future leaders of the community, it can only be a matter of time before the inhabitants of Gutu village put a definite end to it.

      

     

     With some families already abandoning the practice, the prospects of escaping chhaupadi are looking brighter for these girls than for the generations that came before them.

      

324. #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.

325. The Lion & The Rose

     July 29, 2018 1:55 am 4 Comments

     The Greek goddess of love, Aphrodite, was often depicted with roses adorning her head, feet and neck. The most common symbolism of this flower is beauty and love. But to me, the beauty of this flower expresses promise, hope and new beginnings that is contrasted by the thorns which symbolize defense, loss and pain. When I met Sima and heard her story, I was reminded of the rose. She has had a ‘thorny’ life, but through it all, she has held her head high and persevered. She tells me her real-life story of struggle and triumph!

     

     Sima Chaudhary ~ 17

     At age 17, Sima Chaudhary, a grade 10 student at Hindu Vidyapeeth Nepal School has been through what seems to be a journey of a thousand miles. Born in an informal settlement area of Ghorahi, Dang district in Nepal, she found herself in a home where her mother struggled to feed and educate her and her siblings. At the time, her mother worked as a casual laborer performing domestic chores at a landlord’s home which gave them a meager earning to survive on. Their situation was further worsened by the passing of her father when she was only 2 years old.

     Young girls from the Tharu community are predisposed to child labor, a lack of education, and in some cases sexual abuse mainly due to widespread poverty that characterizes the Tharu community. Backward Society Education (BASE) has rescued many young girls from the bonded labor system and has contributed to improving the socio-economic status of young girls like Sima and reducing their vulnerability in the society. In 2009, BASE rescued Sima from a landlord’s home in Nepal Gunj. She was 8 years old at the time and had worked for that landlord for 3 to 4 years where she would cook and wash clothes and dishes. Her mother had sent her to work for the landlord as a way of supplementing her family’s income. She had also been promised that her daughter would attend school but that was not the case. Typically, the children rescued by BASE would spend a month at the BASE children’s rehabilitation center before being returned to their parents. Unfortunately for Sima, her family was unable to take her back and provide her with an education. BASE pledged to her to the Children Peace Home (CPH) so that she could attend school and have a safe place to live. Sima says that she is very happy that BASE rescued her and placed her at CPH. She is doing well at school, this past exam she emerged position 3, and enjoys playing with the other children when she retunes home. Her favorite subjects at school are Social Studies and English. She is also an active member of the Eco and Peace Clubs. When I asked her what she wants to do in the future after school she said, “I want to help needy people like me.”

     As a mythical creature, the lion an auspicious symbol of valor, energy and wisdom. It also represents strength, goodness and the spirit of change. Bhola Nath Yogi, the principal of Hindu Vidyapeeth Nepal School and the founder of the Children’s Peace Home, has indeed defied all odds and become a beacon of hope in his community. As incredible as his story was of all the work that he has done for his community, it would take an even more radical turn in 2005, when Bhola built a children’s orphanage home on his family’s land. The home has helped street children, orphans and other desperate children by providing everything from shelter and clothing to education and medical care. Bhola has become a father to the fatherless.

     

     Bhola Nagi Yogi. Founder – Hindu Vidyapeeth Nepal School & Children Peace Home

     While he is deservedly proud of the sanctuary he has built over the past 13 years, Bhola is clearly most pleased when he talks about the accomplishments of the children who call him father: a child like Sima Chaudhary who came to him when she was 8 years old and is now preparing to sit for her Secondary Education Examination (SEE) national exams in the April 2019. “They are very determined,” says Bhola of all the children, adding his next dream is to build more facilities to support more children on the organization’s site. “I believe you can transform the world, one child a time,” he says with a peaceful smile. “As a child, I wanted to be important, but where I am now is more important to the people around me.” Bhola supports 29 children who live at the orphanage and 182 students at the school.

     Extraordinary, indeed.

      

      

      

326. Ivan Olanya

     July 28, 2018 5:10 am 3 Comments

      

     

     

     Advocacy Project first met Ivan in 2015 at Tochi Primary School. He is a bright student with a one track mind. “I do not want a girlfriend; I just want to study to reach Standard 4.” When I ask him about after he finishes secondary school, he grins and looks down at the grass, “We’ll see.”

     Ivan suffers from a mild form of cerebral palsy which makes walking painful. He aspires to be an electrical engineer and to repay his mother, who has been supporting him, single-handedly, his whole life. “She doesn’t have a job; she works on the farm so that I can stay at a private school”. Ivan says his mom was the only person to encourage him. “You know, children just like to tease. Its fine until they realize you are not like them,  that you are different. Once they see you cannot run or jump or play football, they just laugh at you”.  Ivan goes silent for a long minute, reliving some of the bullying was clearly a lot to bear. “I could not even go to the bathroom because it hurts when I squat. This is why the [GDPU latrine] was so helpful for me. I could use the handrails without pain or fear of falling over.”

     He goes silent again, this time for much longer. He eventually comes back with a softer look on his face. “It’s better now that I am in secondary school. The students are much friendlier and there are other disabled students there. People still make jokes, but that does not matter. My disability does not stop me from doing anything.” The shift in optimism was stark but genuine. It seems like Ivan is used to shaking it off, letting go of the past in exchange for the future. Within seconds, he is talking about physics and mathematics. From 2015 to today

     ---

     ---

     Ivan has blossomed. He thanks GDPU and AP for helping him feel more comfortable in school and I thanked him for being an inspiration.

     

327. The Gift

     July 24, 2018 7:34 am 4 Comments

     It is not uncommon globally for minority communities to live in fear of eviction from their ancestral lands. Nepal is no exception. In Nepal, the ownership of land determines the economic prosperity, social status and the political hold a family or an individual has over the rest of the community. Land is probably the most important asset in any rural agrarian society. Rural community lands cover about two-thirds of Nepal’s land area. Like most developing countries, agriculture is the primary source of livelihoods for the majority of Nepal’s population. However, there is a large percentage of the population (approximately 25%) that do not have land to farm on. The situation is further worsened by the uneven distribution of agricultural land in the country.

     

     Fertile Lands Of The Tarai Region

     The exclusion of the Kamaiyas from access to productive assets such as land is one of the main reasons why poverty among the Tharu continues to permeate. Landlessness negatively impacts an individual’s right to food, housing, water, health and work because most of the community relies on subsistence farming for their livelihood. Inequality in land distribution among the Tharu community in particular was brought about by customary system of land tenure where the original inhabitants of the region settled there and cultivated the land but did not have any land certificates or any records to show ownership. While the Tharu had no records of the land they were cultivating, the settlers registered the land in their name, forcing the Tharu to work as agricultural laborers. Over time, this practice was replaced by the ill practice of bonded labor which is known as the Kamaiya bonded labor system.

     After the historic moment in July 2000 when the Nepalese government declared the Kamaiya system of bonded labor as illegal, many Tharu community members were left landless and homeless. The government of Nepal promised them small pieces of land and building materials where they could settle and start a fresh. As recent as August 2017, the Minister for Land Reform & Management assured that all the remaining Kamaiyas would be rehabilitated within that fiscal year. But many of these Kamaiyas wait desperately for the realization of this promise. These Kamiayas remain destitute but quietly demand for the resettlement money and timber that was promised to them by the government.

     

     Rosani Chaudhary ~ 31

     In the early 1990’s, being landless in Nepal also meant that you were considered stateless. Backward Society Education (BASE) saw the need of these people and offered to assist them to purchase land. The first exercise involved the saving of 100 Nepali Rupees monthly by each Kamaiya family household. They would then collectively purchase a small plot of land (1 kattha) that they would resettle on. BASE introduced a saving scheme for the Kamaiyas. Every day, they would take a handful of rice or as much as they could do without and store it in a pot. BASE would then sell the rice on their behalf and deposit the money in a bank account in the name of the Kamaiyas. 500 Nepali Rupees was the minimum amount to open a bank account. As an incentive, BASE matched the first year’s saving by 300%, second year’s by 200% and third year’s by 100%. The minimum amount required to be matched by BASE was 1,200 Nepali Rupees. The cost of 1 kattha of land at the time ranged between 3,000 – 5,000 Nepali Rupees (1 kattha = 0.08 acres). 221 Kamaiya families benefited from this program. However, the project was too expensive to scale up to assist the 100,000 families who had been affected by the bonded labor system at the time.

     

     Land Bought By BASE In Lalmatiya Chowk ~ Lalmatiya Kamaiya Muktinagar Village

     BASE’s decision to help these families was more of a response to an existing need than a responsibility. As much as BASE understood that addressing housing, land and property issues was a key component of national responsibility, it recognized its strong role at the grass root level. They understood their duty to assist their fellow community members to obtain appropriate compensation. Securing their housing, land and property rights is, of course, one of the main components of finding durable solutions to being landless. While the government has made efforts to provide mechanisms for Kamaiya compensation, those mechanisms have rarely been adequate to deal – at least in a timely manner – with the scale and complexity of the Kamaiya problem.

     

     Maite Chaudhary ~ 52 In His Home That He Purchased With The Help Of BASE ~ Besahi Village, Dang District

     

     Pahari Chaudhary ~ 50 Fetching Water At The Local Well Built By BASE

328. Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken

     3:45 am 3 Comments

     Nepalese women in general who dream of managing their own businesses face many challenges. A disabled young girl born into a family that has been in bonded labor for generations and shares the same ambition, faces even larger challenges. This is because any person living with any disability is less likely to participate actively in making decisions that concern him or her and is less likely to have his or her protection needs met. Asha Kumal, 18, was born deaf and dumb. She has been dependent on her family and friends to communicate with the rest of the people. She started life at a disadvantage, having to always do something extra just to be on the same level.

     

     Asha Kumal ~ 18

     From a young age, Asha viewed going to school as a huge privilege and she was always very eager to learn, her father, Bhagu Bahadur Kumal, explains. While in school, Asha experienced learning difficulties as much as she looked ‘normal’. She became disenfranchised because her educational needs were not being met. She developed low self-esteem and eventually dropped out of school at class 3. Her father informs us that there is an inadequate number of special need schools in Nepal. The few that are available are widely scarce and are only found in major towns. He also says that the number of teachers trained to teach special needs students is low despite the large number of children living with disabilities. Many of these children are deprived of access to basic literacy and numerical skills, he says. But he is very proud that Asha can at least read and write.

     

     Lamatiya Kamaiya Muktinagar Village

     Globally, disabled people are faced with discrimination and barriers to full participation in employment programs and skills training. Because of ignorance and discrimination, disabled people are often debarred in work. Society’s argument is centered on their inability to compete on the basis of relevant skills or qualifications. Many communities, mostly in developing countries, still associate disability with curses and bad omens. This is the case in Nepal too. Unfortunately, this has impeded the country’s development of services for children with disabilities, prevented parents from accepting their children’s disabilities, and makes social inclusion for these children almost impossible. BASE, however, provided a 3-month specialized training course at a nearby community training center as a way to empower young women who had been freed for the Kamaiya system and to also shift the mentality surrounding disabilities to bring part of the population out of the shadows. Asha attended this training in 2015 and learnt how to sew pieces of clothing.

     Shanta asks Asha what she thought of the vocational training program and whether she would like to enroll in another one (in Nepali):

     

     Shanta writes out the questions for Asha to respond to

     

     She responds through sign language:

     “I liked training and it was good for me. I need more training on the latest fashion trends. Right now, I can only make a petticoat which I sell for 100 Nepali Rupees and a kurta (a local Nepali clothing) which I sell for 250 Nepali Rupees.”

     

     Asha Sewing On Her Machine That Was Bought For Her By BASE

     The word ‘opportunity’ means a set of circumstances in which a course of successful action is possible. Opportunity is scarce for disabled people. But what is even more rare is the willingness to take advantage of an opportunity that may present itself. A person with no money, no education, no connections can rise as far as his or her ability and ambition will take him or her.  The importance of these vocational training programs cannot be over emphasized. By equipping former Kamlaris and / or their children with basic skills in technical fields will enable them to pursue employment opportunities which will ultimately contribute towards their socio-economic inclusion.

     In Andrew Carnegie’s words, a “man may be born in poverty, but he does not have to go through life in poverty. He may be illiterate but he does not have to remain so. But . . . no amount of opportunity will benefit the man who neglects or refuses to take possession of his own mind power and use it for his own personal advancement.”

     

     Decorative Pieces Made By Asha

329. May 11th, 2003

     July 22, 2018 10:50 am 4 Comments

     

     May 11^th, 2003. Olympia is partial deaf, her voice is normally rough and uneven, but when she said May 11^th, 2003, the words came out smoothly. Clearly this is not her first time telling this story. When Olympia was about eight years old, Gulu was the epicenter of violence. “We were suffering a lot. We would hear the sounds of gunshots while at school. Some of the kids would jump out the windows, but we all had to run. Wherever we went, we had to run.”  To the market, school, home, or church. Everywhere she went, she ran.

     “We were never at home; it was too dangerous to be there especially at night. We would cook whatever food we had. He has to run with it, to the bush or town. We had to hide from the rebels.” She describes nights spent sleeping in the dirt, hidden under tall grass, the air filled with the sounds of mosquitoes and screams. The flames from burning houses transformed the soilders’ shadows into monsters. “Some nights, we could not leave [in time] so we hid in our house. Men would come at night, banging on doors, looking for people. If you made a noise, you die”. Her father would keep guard all night. The slightest sound, a twig breaking or the wind, was agonizing. There were many sleepiness nights in those days. “We’d go out in the morning to find our fields uprooted. Houses burnt…and bodies.”  Olympia lost her hearing during the violence. The last vivid sounds she remembers are people crying and gunshots. But then came May 11^th, 2003.

     “You know, in Uganda the first born son is very important. I barely remember my brother because he was taken from his bed while I was still young.” Olympia’s parents wanted the best for their children and sent their first born to a private, boarding school in Gulu town. It was a nice school with a good reputation, and it was supposed to be safer than staying in the villages. But in the middle of the night, the LRA came over the walls of the school like raiders. Chaos followed, few boys were kidnapped, forced to fight and kill their own people.  “We never ever saw [my brother] again. Some of his classmates escaped that night. But he was taken into the bush. Some who were taken came home once the war ended, but he never came back. We don’t know if he is alive or dead. We pray every night for him to come home.”  17 years, 6 months, and 21 days after her family was ripped apart, she still prays. Even with peace, these traumas linger.

     The effects of war do not disappear after some signatures on a piece of paper. The pain lingers for generations.  “With the peace talks, [the violence] was reduced, but the memories are still there. Even now, if a motorcycle [backfires] people’s hearts start pumping. Some drop down; others just run without looking back. I still remember everything, how can I forget what I have seen?”

     

     Olympia and Ivan are interning with GDPU this summer!

330. A Woman With Honor

     July 21, 2018 3:24 am 4 Comments

     Meet Sunita Chaudhary…25

     

     Sunita Chaudhary ~ 25

     Sunita is the current central president of the Freed Kamlari Development Forum (FKDF), a community-based organization in Ghorahi, Dang district in Nepal that hopes to “build a civilized, prosperous and developed Kamlari free society.” Since its establishment in June 2010, FKDF has assisted many freed Kamlaris to better themselves economically and socially through advocacy, empowerment and entrepreneurial programs implemented by FKDF. Her commitment, and that of the organization in which she serves, is to “work for the welfare, economic and social empowerment of the freed Kamlaris.”

     

     FKDF Offices – Ghorahi

     Living in poverty, Sunita was forced to go to work for a landlord in Ghorahi under the false pretense that she would be provided with an education, a necessity that her parents could not accord her. When her grandmother passed away, her parents borrowed money from a landlord and sent her to work for him as a way to repay the loan. She was immediately forced into a system that she knew nothing about. At the tender age of 8, she was held as a bonded laborer doing domestic chores for a household of 28 members. Her childhood stolen from her.

     Back then, it seemed that Sunita was destined to follow in her family’s footsteps to become a bonded laborer. But that changed when she was rescued by the Friends of Needy Children after 2 years working as a Kamlari. This organization later became the Freed Kamlari Development Forum (FKDF). As a young girl, Sunita knew that helping free her fellow sisters was her destiny. She said that those 2 years she worked as a Kamlari confronted her with the truth about the crimes against young Tharu girls and challenged her to face up to her responsibility as a Tharu community member to protect young girls from human and child rights’ violations. Sunita has risen through the ranks within FKDF, serving first as a social mobilizer and later on as a district president and now serves as the central president of the entire organization. As a way of formalizing her training, she is pursuing her bachelor’s degree in Education at Mahendra Multiple Campus. She hopes to use this opportunity to further advance the agendas set out by FKDF.

     

     With a total number of approximately 13,000 members, FKDF has not only grown in size but also in capacity and has championed for the betterment of the lives of former Kamlaris. FKDF has offered short term vocational programs to a number of these young women who have gone to become small business owners in several sectors. These vocational training programs enable these young women to earn an income and build crucial life skills. These young women lack access to financial capital and have limited opportunities to gain education, knowledge, and skills that can lead to economic advancement. The inadequate policy frameworks and inequitable gender norms also often create barriers to their economic advancement.

     

     Kamala & Sudama Chaudhary Repairing An Auto – Kathmandu  

     

     Laxmi Chaudhary Holding Her Business Permit Certificate

     Of the different services offered by FKDF, the issuing of identity card to freed Kamlaris is of the most importance as it has become a necessity for people to access various services offered by governmental and a few non-governmental institutions. With these identity cards, former Kamlaris can apply for national identity cards from the government which gives them proof of citizenship, access to scholarship opportunities form the government (the government has set aside 12 million Nepali Rupees as an education fund for former Kamlaris), access to subsidized vocational training programs offered by the government, employment in government agencies and access to subsidized land from the government. The process of receiving these national identity cards is a tall order. In Dang district alone, there are 5,546 former Kamlaris but so far only 500 of them have received the identity cards. Issues of citizenship, statelessness and marginalization have featured the Tharu community in Nepal. This is a group of people with historical or ethnic ties to Nepal but have been rendered stateless for generations. International treaties proclaim citizenship as a basic right. The fact that they are not recognized by the government as citizens exposes them to many challenges, ranging from denial of basic rights to access to employment, housing, education, and healthcare.

     

     Front – FKDF Issued Identity Card

     

     Back – FKDF Issued Identity Card

     

     Front – Government Issued Identity Card

     

     Back – Government Issued Identity Card    

     What I took out of my meeting with Sunita was that delivering the freedom to all Kamlaris and achieving the poverty eradication goal in accordance to the Sustainable Development Goals demands renewed policy approaches and more comprehensive and sophisticated knowledge. Beyond the traditional practices of domestic slavery and servitude, an old problem continues to exist and permeate. She said that poverty among the Kamlaris can only be solved by tackling the issue of inequality among the different castes in Nepal. So long as injustice and exploitation continue to be part of our economic, social and cultural systems, poverty will continue to devastate the lives of thousands of Kamlaris.

331. You Can Teach an Old Dog New Tricks

     July 20, 2018 8:26 am 7 Comments

      

     

     Samburu County, Kenya

      

     Samburu County in Northern Kenya is absolutely beautiful. I am 99% sure that the artists for the Disney movie “The Lion King” visited it to draw inspiration from the landscape when creating the movie. The vast green hills roll with tall green and yellow grasses, there are mountains in the distance, and the low green bushes and trees are exactly how I imagined Kenya would look like. But this beautiful landscape was a battlefield just 7 years ago.

     Children Peace Initiative (CPI) Kenya has been working in Samburu County with the Samburu and Pokot tribes since 2012. The conflict between the Samburu and Pokot started in 2005 and ravaged the lands until 2012 when CPI Kenya intervened and held their first of four Peace Camps for Pokot and Samburu children. From 2012-2016, CPI Kenya held a Peace Camp every year for the children. This not only ended the conflict but also created a harmonious, peaceful coexistence between the two tribes. They don’t just live separately and no longer fight; they live together. They rely on each other now. They inter-marry. They visit each other. They hold a weekly market for each other and conduct business and trade with each other. Their cattle graze in both Samburu and Pokot lands. They own animals together. They pray for each other. And they love each other. The communities truly have been transformed, and it is because of the work CPI Kenya did with their children.

     

     Samburu County, Kenya

      

     For the past nine days, the CPI Kenya team and I have been in Samburu County meeting with the families who received a shared Heifer for Peace in 2015. These beneficiaries shared not only valuable data that helps quantify the impact of CPI Kenya’s work here but also shared some incredibly moving stories. Programs are put into place in order to assist these people in gaining back their independence and getting employed. They can go to driving school, or electrician trade school, and there are several other courses that will train you in different vocations. With these new qualifications it is easy to get a job from a number of factories and businesses in the area, so they can regain full control of their life. 

      

     

     Malatu (left) and Losuke (right) embrace upon their reunion

      

     I had the pleasure to interview two fathers’ whose sons attended CPI Kenya’s Peace Camp in 2012. Their names were Malatu Lebenayo, who is Samburu, and Losuke Lonyangaking, who is Pokot. Because of the conflict, both of these men lost their homes. Both were unable to farm and grow food for their families. Both of these men’s children had to drop out of school because it was too dangerous to attend. Both lost cattle due to raids. Both had their children sleep with their shoes on at night, in case they had to flee from a raid and hide in the bush. And both blamed the other tribe for the struggles and losses their families had to endure.

     Watch the video of Malatu and Losuke being reunited by CPI Kenya! (Due to living approximately 16 miles apart, having no transport, and both being 60+ years of age, Malatu and Losuke only see each other every 2-3 months. We brought Malatu from his village to visit Losuke during one of our trips to Pokot lands)

     After seven years of fighting, Malatu and Losuke were a part of the brave group of parents who allowed their children to attend Peace Camp and interact with children from the other tribe. Their sons, John and Topote became friends at Peace Camp, and came home inspired by their friendship and the possibility that they could be the ones to bring peace to their communities. Through John and Topote, Malatu and Losuke met and began to warm towards each other. Through a series of engagements and interactions fostered by CPI Kenya, Malatu and Losuke grew to become best friends. “I was 60-some years old and had never entered a Pokot home until CPI Kenya came” said Malatu. “Now we are kin. This friendship is going to last – we make it stronger every day.”

     

     “Kabisa! Kabisa!” (“Total! Total!”) Losuke and Malatu’s answer to my questions about integration and trust between their two tribes

      

     In 2015 Losuke and Malatu received a shared Heifer for Peace, through CPI Kenya’s Heifers for Peace program. This shared heifer solidified the friendship formed between the two families through the children, and now their bond is unbreakable. To pastoralists, a cow is sacred; cows are a part of their identity and are their livelihood. So when Losuke and Malatu decided that Malatu would keep and raise the heifer, and that Losuke would receive the first calf it gives birth to, their pastoralist bond was fortified. Sure enough, their Heifer for Peace gave birth to a calf a few months ago, and Malatu handed over this calf to Losuke. When I asked them if there were any problems with their sharing the heifer, both vehemently responded “No! None!” Losuke went on to say “I trusted Malatu to take good care of the heifer. And he did. And now I have a calf because of him!” They then shook hands again, and shared a look only best friends can share.

     The benefits of their shared Heifer for Peace will continue for the rest of these men’s lives; a cow can give birth up to 12 times in its lifetime, so that means Malatu and Losuke could each receive six more calves from their one shared Heifer for Peace. Essentially, a family’s cattle herd can be completely rebuilt and repopulated by one heifer, and this is the opportunity CPI Kenya provided these men.

     

     Amani! Amani!

      

     When I asked Malatu and Losuke why CPI Kenya’s approach to peacebuilding worked, compared to all the multiple other governmental and NGO failed attempts, Malatu answered simply. “The peace is fair, not political. We accepted the peace because of the friendships and all the suffering from before. And then we proved to each other that we’re trustworthy because of the Heifers for Peace.”

     Malatu and Losuke are why I titled this blog “You Can Teach an Old Dog New Tricks”. Not to emphasize their age (sorry, gents!), but to show how entire communities have been transformed by CPI Kenya’s work. By working with children, both the Pokot and the Samburu have overcome a lifetime of prejudice, forgiven the sins of each other’s tribes, and embraced each other through peace. Just seven years ago these men were at war, and today they call themselves brothers. “Our friendship is from the heart. Even the way we embrace each other comes from the heart” says Losuke. And it’s true.

     

     Donations = Heifers = Peace!

      

     To help CPI Kenya purchase 50 Heifers for Peace for 50 Pokot and 50 Samburu families whose children went to Peace Camp in 2015, please donate! All donations are tax deductible.

     Want to see more photos? Check out my Flickr Album!

332. 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)

333. 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.

334. Balika Bik – Seizing an Opportunity

     July 16, 2018 2:04 am 5 Comments

     This series of blog posts tells the stories of the people affected by chhaupadi, with a view to exploring different aspects of the practice in depth. All testimony and photographs in this series have been made available with the relevant subject’s express consent. A general introduction to chhaupadi is available here and there are more photographs in this album. 

      

     “When I had my first period, my mother told me to go to the chhau goth [hut], which made me very sad”, 17 year-old Balika says, recalling the first time she was forced to practice chhaupadi. Her mother may have been the one telling her to spend five days in the chhau goth every month, but Balika knows that she wasn’t the driving force behind the practice in her family. Her grandmother was the one who believed most fervently that women and girls are untouchable and impure during menstruation, and therefore need to be segregated from the rest of the family during this time.

      

     

     Balika Bik during her interview with Dipika Shrestha, Girls Empowerment Officer with the Centre for Agro-Ecology and Development (CAED)

      

     Balika, who is in Grade 10 and loves studying the Nepali language, gives answers to interview questions that never directly apportion blame. The story of how she escaped chhaupadi can be implied from the incidence of a series of important events over the last few years. “I had a grandmother who lived with us. I practiced while she was alive…not anymore now. She died two years after I first started menstruating.” Whether deliberately or not, Balika gives her interviewers another key piece of the puzzle during a different part of our conversation: “I used to stay in the chhau goth, but stopped doing so after two years.”

      

     

     Plantations surrounding Gutu village, Surkhet District, where Balika lives

      

     This gracious act of deference towards her late grandmother cannot be attributed to a fear of speaking out, because Balika confronted her parents on chhaupadi in an assertive way. She must have been aware that, with the views of the older generation becoming a thing of the past, her family had a valuable opportunity to reframe its attitudes towards women and natural reproductive processes. “I used what I learned in school and from the Centre for Agro-Ecology and Development to convince my parents to let me sleep inside.” To her, this has been the most critical improvement, although her family has adopted other reforms since her grandmother’s death that have helped to make her period a little more comfortable, and a whole lot more dignified. “I’m now allowed to touch and speak with boys and men”, Balika explains with a small, triumphant smile.

      

     

     Hari Kala Poudel has seen many members of different generations come and go in Gutu village. Unlike Balika’s late grandmother, Hari is one of the few older women in the village who believes that women and girls should be allowed to sleep inside while menstruating.

      

     Have all restrictions on what she can do when she is menstruating been lifted? “I’m still not allowed to enter the kitchen or any temple, or to worship at home”, Balika says. All in all, however, her tone and outlook are positive. “Most of all, I feel so relieved that my mother doesn’t force me into that hut anymore.”

335. The End of My Fellowship

     July 14, 2018 12:42 pm 10 Comments

     My first day in Biratnagar started with breakfast with Indira (CWN founder) at Devkishan’s house, a businessman in Biratnagar. The rest of the day I spent in my hotel room finalizing my work plan for my fellowship with CWN and editing my blog. 

     That evening I started throwing up a couple hours after dinner. I had been warned about having stomach issues while traveling in Nepal so I took some medicine I brought with me from the US and tried to sleep it off. After a restless night of running to the bathroom to throw up I threw up blood the next morning. RED FLAG!!

     I was hoping to witness a hands on hospital experience during my fellowship in Nepal but I had no idea that the hands would be on me. After a culturally shocking experience of trying to get to the hospital with Indira, then going through hours of tests (majority of the time not knowing what was going on because of the language barrier), and strangers taking pictures of me, I ended up having to get an appendectomy (surgical removal of an inflamed appendix).

     

     While recovering in the hospital I reflected on my experience to deicide if I felt comfortable continuing my fellowship with CWN. The fact that I was neglected during the testing period and most of the recovery time in the hospital to the point I had to take myself down the hall to the bathroom I decided not to continue my fellowship with CWN.

     The day I was discharged the doctor gave me the ok to fly back to Kathmandu and to follow up with a doctor there. I flew back to Kathmandu the same day and stayed with Nity’s wonderful family and an AP fellow Caroline in Kathmandu. These wonderful people along with AP fellows Lara and Komal, who came to visit, helped me heal mentally and physically!

     

     My next decision was if I would continue my AP fellowship with another partnering organization or go back home to the United States. I consulted a local Kathmandu doctor first to see when it would be possible to make the long flight. He advised after the staples were removed (one week after my surgery). I then consulted AP fellows that I had made friends with, and my family and friends about my decision. And in a moment of silence after eating another delicious meal by Nity’s mother (ya’ll her food would lift anybody’s spirit) I reflected on an interview I was in back in April:

     https://www.facebook.com/nyupublichealth/videos/10156724868075016/

      

     I decided not to continue my fellowship and return home to recover mentally and physically. As I stated in my interview “…you have to remember to take care of yourself while taking care of others.” It’s funny how your own advice can help you down the road.

     Two days after getting my staples out in Kathmandu I returned home to the United States. Although my journey ended early and I never made it to my final destination I still learned a lot! I am very thankful to have had this opportunity!

     

     Saying goodbye to my host family.

      

     Quick Q&A:

      

     • What happened to the money that was raised for my fellowship? I donated it to the Advocacy project. Thank you everyone that supported my campaign!
     • How are you doing now? I am much better thanks to all the support and listening to my body. (See thank you list below)
     • Will you travel again? Oh yes! Traveling is in my blood! This was the 5th continent I have been to and I have 2 more to go! I am actually planning my next trip as we speak!
     •  Is this line of work for you? YES! One day I would like to try working in the field again! My experience showed me that this field of work needs me!

      

     

     Kathmandu airport.

      

     Special Thanks to:

     God– For seeing me through this!

     My mom and dad– For responding quickly and helping me get the help I needed!

     My Birth Father– For also responding quickly and helping me get the help I needed!

     My Family and Friends– For all the love, prayers, and support from far away!

     The Advocacy Project Staff and Board Members– For stepping in and making sure all logistics were handled and supporting my decision!

     Dr. Om and Surgery Staff– For being the best part of my visit and taking the time to explain to me what was going on!

     Devendra Thakur– For  being a good samaritan volunteering to take care of me and serve as my translator during my recovery time in the post operating room and becoming my Nepali brother!

     Keshika Neupane and Nursing Staff– For taking great care of me in the post operating room and talking to me when I was alone!

     चेतन सापकोटा– For staying in the hospital after my surgery, getting more minutes on my phone, and being a nice friend!

     Caroline Armstrong Hall– For getting me from the Kathmandu airport and being an awesome supportive friend!

     Nity, Shruti, and The Jaiswal Family– For welcoming me back into their home in Kathmandu, feeding me amazing meals, and taking care of me as I recovered!

     New York University– For checking in and confirming that all logistics were being handled.

     The Nepal US Embassy– For checking in and making sure I received the care I needed and that I returned to the US safely.

     Dr. Sunil Sharma– For making sure I got admitted and received the care that I needed.

     Nobel Medical College Teaching Hospital– For providing the care that I needed!

     Indira Thapa– For taking me to the best hospital in the region, letting me use your phone while mine was out of minutes, getting things I needed when I requested, and helping me fly back to Kathmandu.

     Anyone else that supported me and helped me through this experience!

     THANK YOU!

336. Sunita Dhungana – The Nuts and Bolts of Chhaupadi

     July 13, 2018 12:59 am 4 Comments

     This series of blog posts tells the stories of the people affected by chhaupadi, with a view to explore different aspects of the practice in depth. All testimony and photographs in this series have been made available with the relevant subject’s express consent. A general introduction to chhaupadi is available here and there are more photographs in this album. 

      

     14 year-old Sunita Dhugana’s favorite subject at school is math. It might be her deductive mind that makes her the perfect candidate for the first post in this blog series—she gives answers to interview questions that comprehensively cover the practical components of the chhaupadi custom. Sunita uses her experiences to reveal how the cultural prescriptions of menstrual banishment play out in practice, citing fact after fact to illustrate her story in a concrete way.

      

     

     Sunita Dhungana with Tulasi Kadel standing behind her

      

     “[My family’s] chhau goth has no doors, no window, no lock; it doesn’t feel safe…but at least it has a bed frame”, she says, referring to the hut that was constructed to house all of the female members of her family during their menstrual period. Sunita explains matter-of-factly how it all happens.

      

     

     A chhau goth (not the one used by Sunita’s family). The dishes in this photograph are used by women and girls only when they are menstruating, and may not be touched by other family members. 

      

     Every month, when her time comes, she moves into the chhau goth for four days. She sleeps there and, when she wakes in the mornings, is brought some food by her mother. The food comes on a separate plate that is used only during these four days each month; there are also designated chhaupadi utensils that are segregated in the same way. Sunita has to wash these utensils and plate herself, in a separate bucket of water, because they have been touched by someone who—as far as her grandmother is concerned—is impure. “For drinking, washing and so on,” she explains, “I have to fetch a separate supply of water for myself”.

      

     

     A secondary school classroom in the village of Gutu, Surkhet District, where Sunita lives

      

     When Sunita returns home from school, she goes straight back into the chhau goth, because she is forbidden from entering the family home. “Sometimes my friends, mother or sister keep me company”, she says. “I also help my mother around the house, but I don’t have to do any heavy tasks because she takes care of them.” Sunita realizes that her mother consciously reduces her workload, regardless of whether she is menstruating or not, to give her as much time as possible to study and read. Other girls in her village are not as fortunate and have to carry heavy loads (including water, firewood and fodder), walk long distances and care for dozens of goats, oxen or buffaloes every day—even after nights of exhaustion and poor sleep spent in a chhau goth.

      

     

     The road Sunita takes to walk to school

      

     Sunita is grateful to her mother for taking on more work to give her all the time she needs to progress at school, but equally disappointed that she has not been convinced by the arguments Sunita has raised with her for ending chhaupadi. “This practice is bad, it leaves me feeling unsafe and vulnerable”, she explains. Nevertheless, she remains hopeful that one day her parents will listen to her and stop forcing her into the chhau goth. After all, she reasons, other girls in the village are being allowed to sleep indoors, slowly but surely. It will only be a matter of time.

      

337. #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.

338. Daughters of the Tharu

     4:15 am 7 Comments

      

     

     Women of the Tharu Community – Besahi Village

     In a time when there is an active global movement for securing girls’ rights, the daughters of the Tharu seem to be unfortunately forgotten. The Tharu, a small community in western Nepal that accounts for approximately 13% of the Nepali population, are the indigenous people of the Tarai. Despite being the original inhabitants of Nepal’s lowlands, they have been the victims of exploitation at the hands of settlers who migrated to their homeland from the hills. In the first half of the 20^th century, the Tarai was covered in dense forest and ridden in malaria meaning that other people could not live there. Only the Tharu, who possessed natural immunity to malaria enabling them to survive in such a harsh environment.  Following the eradication of malaria in the 1950’s and 1960’s, the fertile land of the Tarai could no longer be hidden to the eyes of the people living in the hills and mountains. Gradually, they begun to migrate to the Tarai to cultivate the fertile lands.

     Being naive and illiterate, the Tharu were easily tricked into signing contracts which gave away their ancestral lands for minimal compensation. With no land left to support them, the Tharu found themselves in debt to their new landlords requiring them to work for their landlords until their debt was fully paid off. But the debt could never be paid off and the Tharu became slaves known as Kamaiya bonded laborers. As a marginalized community, most of their daughters were sent to work as domestic servants in the homes of the landowners. But why does child labor continue to be a persistent issue in Nepal despite national statistics showing a continuous decline?

     

     A Tharu Community Elder

     Before I dive into the numbers, let’s define what child labor is. Child labor, as defined by the International Labor Organization (ILO), refers to any work that deprives children off their childhood and their right to education, health, safety and moral development based on the ILO standards on child labour are defined by the ILO Minimum Age Convention, 1973 (No. 138) and the Worst Form of Child Labour Convention, 1999, (No. 182). Though child labor is declining at the rate of 100,000 every year, Nepal still accounts for 1.6 million children between (5-17 years) in child labor. Of these 621,000 are estimated to be engaged in hazardous work. Estimates suggest that 60 per cent of children in hazardous workplace are girls (373,000).

     Of the different forms of child labor in Nepal, the employment of Tharu girls as domestic servants (Kamlaharis / Kamlaris) has received the most publicity. The Kamlaris have been subjected to serious human rights violations by their so-called masters or landlords. Many of these young girls were compelled to work for their landlords instead of attending school and some of them were subjected to sexual harassment and abuse. These conditions of slavery have continued through several generations because the Kamaiya families were never able to earn enough to pay off their original debt. The necessity to borrow more money from their landlords for clothes, medicine and other essentials only added to their spiraling debt leaving them with no end in sight to their lives of misery and oppression.

     

     Backward Society Education (BASE) begun a non-violent people’s movement across Nepal for the total liberation of Kamaiyas. Peaceful protests were organized and legal petitions to the central government were sent. Over 200,000 ordinary Nepalese people participated in one of Nepal’s greatest periods of non-violent political struggle. As a result of this movement, the government declared the complete abolition of the Kamaiya system in July 2000. This was the apex of the Kamaiya movement. However, the joy and happiness experienced did not last long. The now freed Kamaiyas who had been living for generations on their landlords’ properties were suddenly thrown out on the streets. They had no place to live or food to eat. Over approximately 200,000 Kamaiyas who were freed that day, many of the families have still not received the land that was promised to them by the government. Thousands of their children have been forced to return to conditions of bonded labor to pay off newly incurred debts. Their lives are still rung by poverty and suffering. Many of them rely on daily wage labor to enable them to live a hand to mouth existence and are still waiting for the government to fulfill its promise before rehabilitation.

     

     Sushma Chaudhary ~ 30

     The needs today of the freed Kamaiyas are education, employment, healthcare and full political participation in a democratic Nepal. BASE continues to strive through peaceful means to advocate for these needs as well as providing its own grassroots services to the Tharu. Continuous support and commitment is still needed by the government to finally resolve the trials of the Kamaiya bonded laborers. BASE will never give up its peaceful struggle for justice neither will the daughters of Tharu give up their quest of being autonomous.

339. 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

340. A brief ride to the market

     June 27, 2018 5:59 pm 8 Comments

     “The market is very close to here.” After about twenty minutes of walking, I realized that close in Uganda did not mean the same thing as close in America. I gave up on exercise and decided to hop on a bodaboda (motorcycle).  For less than a dollar, they will take you anywhere you want to go in town.  I didn’t realize when I flagged down this particular motorcycle that I would get much more than a ride to the market.

     James grew up in Gulu town. His family used to own land a nearby village, but the war forced them to flee.  Even after peace returned to the region, his parents refused to return to a place where they saw women and children murdered.  He says it’s hard to remember what Gulu town used to look like because now most roads are paved. Modern buildings have replaced the mud brick, thatched roofed hut that once covered the entire town.  “”It’s all because of the war” he said as I climbed on the back of his bodaboda. “”Every situation has its advantages and disadvantages” he explained, “When the war was still ongoing, there was development like we never saw before. All of a sudden all these international NGOs flocked to Gulu and brought with them money. Health care was free. School was free. Of course people died, but do you think wazungu (westerns) would have cared about Gulu if not for Kony?”

     Despite the wind rushing past as we rode down road, I was transfixed on James’ point.  Just like the gold rush had created boom towns in the American West, so had conflict transformed Gulu from a nowhere town in northern Uganda to the unofficial NGO capital of Uganda.  But with every boom logically follows a bust. “Now that we are at peace, these NGOs are closing down and moving to places like South Sudan or the Congo.  These NGOs hired so many locals to work for them, where will people find jobs like that again?” I had no response.  This is the dark side of international development. These organizations are driven by their donors to go where the need is greatest; even if that means the core issues that caused that need in the first place go unaddressed. These organizations use buzzwords like sustainability and human-centered, but long lasting change is not sexy.  Feeding children during a famine makes for a better photo than empowering the same children to rebuild their communities once peace returns.  It also takes less time.  A Band-Aid instead of a cure.

     I reached the market within 10 minutes.  I thanked James for the ride, handed him 1,000 shillings (30 cents) and he drove off. I never got a picture of him, but I remember this conversation vividly. There are professors who have dedicated their entire lives to make the point that James made in a brief ride to the market.

      

     Since I have no pictures of James, here are a few random shots from my time in Gulu thus far!

     

     

     

     

     

     

      

      

341. Hills and Valleys

     June 25, 2018 4:37 am 12 Comments

     Losing all sense of time due to jet lag I kept having to ask myself; What day is it? What time is it back at home? What is the temperature outside? My first day in Nepal I slept for the most part, went to the grocery with my host family, then met with the leaders of the organization I would be working with during my summer fellowship. The founder of the organization let me know that she would start her journey to Dhankuta the next day and offered me a ride. I accepted the offer thinking that this would be the perfect time to bond before starting work together. Before I could even learn the name of the street I was staying on in Katmandu I was off to my next destination! To be completely honest I was feeling like a fish out of water. My usual habit when in a new place is to dedicate the first day or so to fight jet lag, relax, and learn the lay of the land. But in the line of work I am entering there is no time for that! Goodbye comfort zone! Goodbye getting settled in one place! (In retrospect I wish I stuck to my usual habit of getting settled.)

     

     The journey was supposed to start at 7:25 AM the next day. Our departure from Kathmandu got a little delayed because I had to chase my host family’s dog back into their fence. I was trying not to let the dog out but thanks to my backpack I had to open the gate wider to exit. Once Bella (the dog) was done protesting I was able to get her back where she belonged and meet my ride around the corner from the house. Our trip began. 

     With paved and unpaved roads 4 wheel drive is a must in Nepal. There is no cruising on the highway at 60 mph either. Unless you don’t care about your car that is. With no A/C in the car we all had our windows down to catch the breeze. This also meant that all of the exhaust from buses and trucks consistently entered the car along with dust from the road. I was told about the road conditions before so whenever the air got too thick for me I would tie a scarf around my mouth and nose. Traffic was also an issue along the way.

     

     During the beautiful ride to our first destination, Biratnagar, the view of the hills and valleys triggered excitement, and gratefulness! At one point I found myself pushing back tears. There is something about nature and admiring the greatness of God. Gazing at the scenery felt like a foreshadow into my weeks ahead. Around every sharp curve there was a new view. Even with the occasional pouring rain & winding roads there was beauty in it all. Like our trip I was expecting to hear tragic, rough stories from the people I met. Specifically the women I met with uterine prolapse. I was also expecting a moment of time to witness the resilience, passion, love, and beauty of the people I met. There is beauty in valleys and hills no matter how dark or treacherous they may be. If there is a way up then there is always a way down. This is something I think we all have in common. Everyone has a story! Everyone has their own experiences!

     

     Koshi River

     We made a couple stops along our way. One at an outhouse, the next for lunch in a beautiful valley, and the last at the biggest river in Nepal, the Koshi river. One very important stop we made was to get a sim card for my phone. I had to nag the people I was with to get one. At one point they even teased me for asking which I did not mind because when it comes to my safety I do not play! Having a working phone is very important! (More on this point later) We arrived in Biratnagar around 7:30 PM. After checking into our hotel I showered off the road residue and went to bed excited to explore the new area I was in.

     TO BE CONTINUED…

342. Bittersweet Tales from Western Nepal

     June 23, 2018 12:19 am 8 Comments

     Aruna has patience that almost seems defined by her determination. Perhaps this is a useful (if somewhat unlikely) combination of traits for anyone with her job—an Advocacy and Training Officer working on the reproductive rights campaigns of the Centre for Agro-Ecology and Development (CAED) in Nepal.

     

     CAED Office, Kathmandu

      

     She explains the origins of chhaupadi, a practice of banishing women to a chhau goth (hut) during their menstrual period that persists in western Nepal. More information on this will follow in later blog posts, but for the benefit of readers who are unfamiliar with the practice, it is founded on a belief prevailing in certain Hindu cultures that women are impure during this time and after childbirth. Chhaupadi roughly translates as “the condition of being untouchable during menstruation”.

     

     Chhau goth

      

     In addition to their banishment from the family home, Aruna explains, women and girls are forbidden from touching household items and other people (except infants); engaging in social and family events; consuming any dairy, meat, vegetables or fruit; and bathing. She is joined by Kulyani, who helps with translating and adds to Aruna’s descriptions. Another CAED staff member stops by to listen to our discussion.

     Aruna attributes the spread of chhaupadhi to a restrictive religious interpretation propagated by gurus and other spiritual leaders a few centuries back (for example, in the Garud Puran and Manusmriti). We all marvel at the contrast with older Hindu texts, which do not mention menstrual impurity.

     

     Aruna, Field Officer with CAED

      

     “The most difficult part of putting an end to this practice is the mindset”, Aruna says. A few years ago, she was in a village called Murma in far western Nepal, raising awareness about the dangers of chhaupadi (including rape, illness and death). She managed to convince 75 households to allow their women to sleep on the verandahs outside their houses, where they could be closer to their family and away from the dark and damp confines of the chhau goth. Aruna was happy with this first step. 10 women even began sleeping indoors.

     

     The dangers of chhaupadi reported in a local newspaper

      

     These 10 success stories have probably been short-lived. On the last day of the training program, one of the girls in the village began menstruating for the first time and her family agreed to let her sleep inside, to Aruna’s delight. She woke with a crick in her neck, which almost all villagers took to be an irrefutable reminder of the punishment that will be dealt to all those who fail to practice chhaupadhi. I’m afraid to ask whether the group of 10 women returned to the chhau goth, and suddenly understand why determination needs to be coupled with patience in this line of work.

343. The Reason I Came to Nepal- What is Uterine Prolapse?

     June 21, 2018 6:04 am 10 Comments

     I am sure that many of you are wondering what uterine prolapse is (like I was when I saw it in The Advocacy Project fellowship application). Here you will get a glimpse into what uterine prolapse is and how it impacts the lives of Nepali women.

     Definition

     The descent or herniation of the pelvic organ, uterus, rectum or bladder into the vagina (Amnesty International ,2014); when the muscles (levator ani muscles/ pelvic floor) around the uterus weaken the and the uterus moves into the vagina.

     

     Normal position of uterus.

     Uterine: relating to the uterus (the female organ that develops eggs) or womb (Merriam-Webster)

     Prolapse: out of place (Merriam-Webster)

     Is Uterine Prolapse Treatable?

     Yes. There are 4 stages of uterine prolapse and different ways to treat each stage.

     • Stage 1: uterus is in the upper half of the vagina; muscle strengthening exercise can prevent continued muscle weakness
     • Stage 2: uterus is at the opening of the vagina; a ring pessary is placed into the vagina to keep the uterus in place and support pelvic organs
     • Stage 3 & 4: uterus protrudes or is completely out of the vagina; pelvic floor repair surgery is done to tighten vagina walls or a hysterectomy is completed to remove the uterus.
       

       Severe uterine prolapse.

     Do women die from this?

     NO! But it still affects women’s DALYs (Disability-Adjusted Life Year) and in Nepal many women are abused due to their condition. More on this can be read: Vulvodynia: Is a ‘Depressed’ Vagina The Reason You Find Sex Painful?

     Common Causes

     • Old age
     • Young child bearing age
     • Strain on pelvic muscles from obesity, heavy object lifting, constipation, or persistent coughing
     • High number of births and low periods between
     • Prolonged difficult labor
     • Malnutrition
     • Pushing down on abdomen during labor

     *The causes in italics are common among Nepali Women*

     Symptoms

     • Uterus protruding from vagina (severe cases); sometimes ulcers on prolapsed uterus
     • Backache
     • Difficulty carrying out daily tasks, walking, sitting, lifting objects
     • Difficulty urinating or defecating
     • Urine leaking
     • Sexual intercourse discomfort or difficulty
     • Discharge and strong odder from vagina

     Barriers

     • Social Stigma/ Shame: Women avoid treatment because of fear that family and/or community members will hate and isolate them. Women have also experienced physical and emotional abuse.
     • Cultural Practices: Men have the authority to decide if a woman can seek health care in certain caste groups and communities. Women are in charge of heavy manual labor to sustain household income. Women are deemed useless if they are not able to bare children and work.
     • Lack of Health Care Access: Healthcare clinics are not available in every region of Nepal. For some the trip to a health clinic or hospital is too expensive. The trip and treatment would also require the women to take off work which reduces the household income.

     (Amnesty International ,2014)

     What is being done in Nepal?

     The Nepali government mainly focuses on treatment of uterine prolapse. One way they ensure treatment is provided is through prolapse screening camps where surgery is given to women diagnosed with uterine prolapse. Monitoring and prevention of uterine prolapse is lacking however. Only focusing on treatment for uterine prolapse will not stop women from developing uterine prolapse. Also ignoring the issues surrounding uterine prolapse such as gender discrimination is a violation of international law.

     During my fellowship I will explore how Care Women Nepal (CWN) is effectively addressing the issue of uterine prolapse through helping facilitate the Women’s Health Camp.

344. 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!

      

345. Uganda-1 Chris- 0

     June 11, 2018 2:04 pm 9 Comments

     To summarize my first week in Uganda, all I need to say is – it can only get better from here.

     Allow me to explain.  On the eight hour bus ride from Kampala to Gulu, I fell asleep.  I know, seems innocent enough.  Unfortunately someone noticed the sleepy mzungu (white person) so I when I woke up in Gulu, my backpack was gone.  Stolen to be exact.  Oh man, that was a bad way to start this adventure.  Laptop, kindle, cords, battery packs, and my toothbrush! I would like to lie and say I handled it with dignity. But I’m a little more hotheaded than that.  I don’t believe any Ugandan has heard such a large variety of English curse words.  F bombs could be heard echoing throughout the bus stand.  Like I said, hotheaded.

     I felt so deflated.  Not because my stuff was gone, stuff can be replaced.  What really shook me was how stupid I was.  I have lived in East Africa for over three years so I considered myself an expert, a professional, a modern day David Livingstone. That’s how life works, right? As soon as you get a bit too cocky, life comes along to humble you.  Well, consider me humbled.

     You may be wondering at this point of the story, if Chris’ laptop was stolen, how is he writing this blog? Short answer – good people.  I arrived at the office of the Gulu Disabled Person Union (GDPU) with my mouth still full of expletives.  I was having a personal pity party when I got out of my taxi. Then I saw a man with no legs sitting on the ground fixing his wheelchair. It was pretty hot outside, even for a Ugandan, so sweat was trickling down his face as he worked.  I was amazed, not because I had never seen a man without legs, but because he had a smile as bright as the African sun.  I walked over to introduce myself, but before I said a word he told me how sorry he was to hear about my laptop.  News travels fast out here.  Charles Okwonga lost his legs after stepping on a landmine and I had the nerve to complain about a laptop.

     

     Then I met Patrick Ojok, the director of GDPU, who did not hesitate to offer me his laptop. People I never met before began messaging me on facebook to offer me condolences and access to their laptop. Local Ugandans stop me in the street to apologize on behalf of the country.  I have made friends with locals and Peace Corps Volunteers.  How can I be sad when I am surrounded by such wonderful people?  Once again, I have been humbled.  This time by the love and support of people who don’t know me at all. Life is funny that way.  One minute you are questioning your faith in humanity and the next you are sitting in awe of it.

     I don’t intend to write more blog posts like this. The only reason I decided to share this story is because I really believe life doesn’t do things to you, it does things for you.  For the rest of my time here, I will use this blog to highlight the lives and stories of the people of Gulu.  To share the voices of those that are never heard and show the faces of those who go unseen.   So sit back, relax, and enjoy the next ten weeks as I show you a side of Uganda you haven’t seen before!  And if you have’t yet, please consider supporting our work so everyone can live with dignity regardless of their disability.  Just follow the link to donate – Support GDPU

     

346. Jack of All Trades! But a Master at What?

     June 10, 2018 12:45 pm 14 Comments

     Hello everyone and welcome to my blog! Last week I completed my pre-travel training in Washington D.C. led by the Advocacy Project! During the five day training 10 fellows, including myself, learned about nonprofit management, monitoring and evaluation, videography, photography, fundraising, storytelling, website building, podcasting, and blogging. I think it’s safe to say that we are now a jack of all trades!

     Click here to checkout the other 2018 Peace Fellow blogs!
     This summer I will use these skills during my fellowship with Care for Women Nepal (CWN) located in Dhankuta, Nepal. The mission of CWN is to improve health care access for women through CWN’s annual women’s health camp. The health camp screens for uterine prolapse, a health issue prevalent among women in Nepal. For many of the women traveling from surrounding areas of Dhankuta this is their only opportunity to receive health care services. CWN covers the cost for surgery and treatment for women that are in need of surgery for uterine prolapse including travel expenses.

     

     The 2018 Peace Fellows traveling to Nepal!

     My goal is to tell the stories of the people behind CWN and the individuals benefiting from their work. Throughout my journey my blog will shift from focusing on my personnel experience to the stories of the individuals I connect with. In order to achieve this goal I must figure out which platform I will master during my ten week fellowship. Below you will find my first attempts at trying to figure out my platform during training.

     My first video:

     My first podcast: 

     

     Click the image to listen!

     Honestly I like both platforms right now!

     Quick Q&A:

     Why am I excited to go to Nepal? For almost a decade during my undergraduate and graduate studies I have focused heavily on human rights and infectious disease. Through this fellowship I will be able to apply the skills I have obtained in the real world! This is also my first time traveling to Southeast Asia.

     Why am I nervous about going to Nepal? This opportunity will serve as a test to see if working in the non-governmental organization world is really for me.

     What is uterine prolapse? Stay tuned to find out! Hope you are ready to journey with me! 

347. My Pre-Departure Journey To Nepal…NAMASTE

     June 7, 2018 1:24 pm 10 Comments

     NAMASTE ?!

     Do not think I forgot about the blog, only at this time I have no news to tell. The countdown continues its march. At this moment, I am uncertain of when my adventure will begin but allow me to present my upcoming fellowship with the Advocacy Project (AP). The Advocacy Project aims to “help marginalized communities to tell their stories, strengthen their organizations, take action, and mobilize new support.” And in less than two weeks, I hope to be departing for Nepal to support a community-based organization known as Backward Society Education (BASE) and help their campaign in fighting the practice of domestic slavery of young girls known as Kamlaris.

     

     The program I intend to participate in, for which I hope to travel to Dang district in western Nepal, is with BASE. BASE is committed to “building an equitable, peaceful and advanced society in Nepal through advocacy, socio-economic development, human resource and institutional development, cultural, environmental and human rights protection and preservation.” I decided to participate in this program for two main reasons: it will give me an opportunity to apply the critical thinking skills I have acquired through formal instruction in a real-world setting, and it also will give me an opportunity to engage with young Nepalese girls and hear their stories. As an added bonus, I will be able to visit a different part of the world and diversify my experience outside of the African context.

     

     While in Nepal, I will tell the stories of a couple girls who have been freed from slavery and give them a platform to air their less privileged voices. I will support the host organization (BASE) in the four main ways AP builds capacity. That is through telling the story, strengthening organizations, taking action while producing change and through mobilizing support. It is going to be a fast-paced fellowship, but I am confident that after the rigorous week of skill building and training by AP at Georgetown University, Washington, DC, I have the necessary tools to keep up with and adapt to the different environments I will be experiencing.

     

     Perhaps the greatest day-to-day challenge will, in fact, be the environment. Monsoon season is coming! It is summer time in Nepal right now, but it is also the rainy season. Kathmandu will be warm, but most of the other cities we travel to will likely be cool and wet due to their high elevation. I will be staying in Dang for the majority of my journey, with a couple of weeks being spent in Kathmandu. Layered clothing, rain gear, and hydration will be essential!

     

     I hope you’ll join me on this journey by following along with my latest blog! I plan to post at least once a week over the course of 10 weeks, but I will of course have to work out all of the details once I’m on the ground in Nepal – Wi-Fi availability and our travel schedule may vary.

     This blog is intended to be both a catalog of my adventures as well as a critical analysis of the places and peoples I will come into contact with. I will explore cultural confluence – be that between myself and modern Nepalese people – through personal encounters and observations in the classroom and on-site in Dang, Nepal.

     Thank you very much for reading and please stay tuned for more!

348. Reflections From 31,000 Feet

     June 6, 2018 2:39 pm 18 Comments

     

     The 2018 AP Peace Fellows!

     Hello from 31,000 feet above the North Atlantic! As I write this first blog, I’m sitting in row 22 of the first leg of my journey to Nairobi, Kenya. Despite the length of this first flight (13 hours, woof!), I find myself incredibly excited. For the last five days, the nine other Peace Fellows and I went through training with the Advocacy Project (AP) to prepare us for our work this summer in Kenya, Uganda, Nepal, Zimbabwe, Vietnam, and Jordan. While our fellowships this summer will be very different, (click here if you want to read about the other fellowships!) we all formed friendships and a unique bond over the work we’ll be doing this summer and the passion we all have for grass-roots organizations leading to social change.

     To give some background and a better understanding of what I’ll be doing this summer, it’s important to first understand what the Advocacy Project is. AP is a non-profit organization whose mission is to give a voice to the voiceless and to help marginalized communities take action to protect their rights. AP does this by partnering with community-based organizations (CBO’s) around the world, sending a Peace Fellow to work with them for 10 weeks to help strengthen their organization by telling their story, helping develop their programs, assisting in fundraising efforts, helping develop their IT and social media, and boosting their international promotion.

     

     Iain (Executive Director of AP) and Karen (Program Manager of AP) hold a quilt that was made by female Iraqi and Syrian refugees in Jordan, who are helped by AP’s partner the Collateral Repair Project

     What makes AP so different from other non-profits and NGO’s is that AP recognizes the strength of local solutions for local problems. While a practice may work in one part of the world, it may not work in another, and that is why AP partners with community-based organizations to try and help effect change. I love this model; it empowers CBO’s across the globe while recognizing that rubber-stamp solutions are not as effective as grass-root solutions.

     That is why I am heading to Kenya to spend 10 weeks working in Nairobi, Baringo County, and Samburu County with the Children Peace Initiative Kenya! AP and CPI Kenya have been in partnership for three years now; I will write more in my next blog about CPI Kenya and the righteous work they do, but if you’re curious feel free to check them here .

     

     Caroline and Lara interview Lindsey as part of our film training

     Keeping all that in mind, AP conducted five days of intense training for us Peace Fellows, covering subjects such as blogging, conducting interviews, security, cultural sensitivity, podcasting, video editing, photography, crowdsourcing, budgeting, website building, monitoring and evaluation, and much more. We shared our goals for this summer, our hopes, our fears, our concerns, our excitement, and of course we shared a pint or two together at the closing reception 🙂

     

     #TeamNepal – Komal, Caroline, Michelle, Lara, & Lindsey all head to various parts of Nepal as AP Peace Fellows, and Nity (from Nepal) will be supporting them as an AP intern!

     Our training wrapped up Sunday evening with a going-away reception at AP’s offices, where we toasted to the incredible directors Iain and Karen and said our goodbyes. Unfortunately, I had to call it quits earlier than I wanted, but if you know me then you can probably guess that I hadn’t started my packing yet. And 15 hours after I started packing I was wheels-up, en route Nairobi!

     

     #TeamAfrica – Alex, Chris and I are the 3 Peace Fellows working in Africa for the next 10 weeks. I head to Kenya to work with the children in warring pastoral tribes, Alex heads to Zimbabwe to work to end child marriage, and Chris heads to Uganda to help build handicap-accessible latrines in schools!

     As I sit here on the plane I know that trying to sleep is fruitless; the adrenaline I have for reaching Nairobi and meeting the wonderful people at CPI Kenya is way too high. I’ll wrap this up by thanking you for reading through the whole blog and asking you to continue reading it (I’ll be posting one a week) and if you like it, then feel free to share it!

     Cheers,

     Colleen

349. Looking Back on Ten Weeks at Peace Labs

     March 20, 2018 11:47 am Leave a Comment

     As a conclusion to my summer internship, after returning to school at Columbia University’s School of International and Public Affairs (SIPA), I, along with other students who had taken a course on peacebuilding fieldwork the previous spring, presented our experiences at the Applied Peacebuilding Symposium (September 29, 2017). The presentations followed the format of PechaKucha, which comes from the Japanese for “chit-chat,” and provides a more dynamic structure for PowerPoint presentations. The approach consists of 20 slides, often of only images, shown for exactly 20 seconds each. Below is the substance of my presentation.

      

     

     This is the logo of the Beirut-based conflict resolution/peacebuilding NGO Peace Labs, were I was as an intern over the summer, receiving support from a Washington, D.C. based NGO, The Advocacy Project, as one of their summer Peace Fellows.

     Peace Labs’ Arabic name, which you can see at the bottom, translates to ‘the Lebanese team for conflict transformation.’

      

     This is a picture of my desk at Peace Labs’ Beirut office that the founder and director, Jean-Paul Chami, sent me soon before I arrived in Lebanon. I spent most of my time there, but since Peace Labs’ activities focus on the north of the country, I got to spend some time there as well, in and around Tripoli.

      

      

      

      

     This is Jean-Paul – we call him “JP” – at one of several whiteboards we had in the office. His background is in facilitation and training, so visuals and diagrams were some of his favorite/trademark tools, which he used in almost any meeting or discussion…

      

      

     including at a café on the road to Tripoli, which turned into a strategic planning session, using the back of a paper placemat to map out the organization’s future. I then turned the diagram into a concept note that I think they’re still using.

     I still have that placemat, too.

      

     I saw these pages hanging up in JP’s office, as a visual representation of Peace Labs’ approach.

     First of all, they’re trying to give people different lenses and different perspectives through which to see their conflicts.

      

     As a track-2 organization, they’re also a connection between the local/grassroots and the national/policy-making-level.

     Some of their tools are facilitations, trainings, workshops, and what they call ‘communities of practice,’ which you can see here, which is when local figures who have an interest in conflict resolution gather amongst themselves and with interested people from other villages to share knowledge and best practices for conflict resolution.

     

      

     They’ve also worked to build “Local Conflict Advisory Teams,” which are local figures trained about conflict, who are then reference points that the communities can turn to when conflicts arise.

      

      

     Another major aspect of Peace Labs’ approach is reflection and analysis of peacebuilding practices. It’s not enough to just implement projects; it’s important to reflect on whether the programs are having the right kind of impact and to share knowledge and best practices with other organizations working on conflict.

     

      

     This was a conference hosted by an organization called House of Peace, that Peace Labs was invited to participate in, along with other representatives from local and international organizations.

      

      

      

      

     This is one of the most famous symbols of Beirut: a mosque and church standing side-by-side. It’s a testament to the diversity and potential harmony in Lebanon, but it’s also a reminder of the potential conflict.

     Lebanon’s Civil War involved various sectarian militias, and although fighting officially stopped over 20 years ago, many of the underlying tensions were not fully dealt with, and some say the war never really ended, especially since many of the same leaders from various factions during the Civil War are still in government now.

     

      

     Another symbol of Beirut is Martyrs’ Square (here all dressed up for Army Day), with its monument all full of bullet holes.

      

      

      

     One of the remnants of the Civil War, where they haven’t been paved over and covered up; throughout the city you can find facades pockmarked from bullets from the war. This is a building along the former ‘Green Line’ that divided East and West Beirut, called “Green” because, as the frontline, it was uninhabitable, and since no one group could control it, Mother Nature took over, and there was green running through the city.

      

     And while the Green Line in Beirut exists now only in people’s imagination and memory, more recent conflict in the north has created new divides. In Tripoli, partly as a result of unresolved Civil War tensions, partly as a result of spillover from Syria, but largely because of economic marginalization, there was a period of violent clashes between communities on opposite sides of Syria Street, which you can see here.

      

     This is the building of the Ruwwad Center, an organization that works with youth: the physical building is located in one neighborhood in Tripoli, while the front entrance opens into a gated courtyard in another neighborhood. During the period of the clashes, in order for children from the lower neighborhood to safely enter the Center, a side entrance had to be built.

      

      

      

     

      

     These are embroidered keychains made by the women’s workshop of another Tripoli-based NGO which brings together women from both sides of the conflict, as well as refugee women for economic empowerment and other programs. SHIFT, the organization that owns the building that houses the women’s workshop, also serves as a social entrepreneurship incubator to help sustain local economic development efforts, which is necessary, given the (often politically-backed and financed) destruction of the communities was not followed with official reconstruction efforts.

      

      

      

     

     While Syrian refugees get a lot of attention these days (and rightfully so), Palestinians have been refugees in Lebanon for a long time, some over half a century. This is the office of the governing organization in the Palestinian camp of Beddawi, outside Tripoli. Palestinian camps in Lebanon are entirely self-organized, providing their own government and security, with little input from the Lebanese government.

      

     This is Abu Rami, a senior member of the popular committee in the camp, in charge of services, which are among the main challenges faced by Palestinians in the camp because it now hosts over 50,000 people, even though it is only one square kilometer and was originally intended for less than half that number.

      

     Because of this, one of the major problems is social tension coming from overcrowding in the camp since Palestinians can’t own property in Lebanon outside the camp.

      

     Another major problem is that many jobs in Lebanon are restricted, so many Palestinians, even highly educated, can’t get good jobs. This leads to high unemployment, poverty, and associated problems of disaffected youth, who may then become involved in violent clashes or the recent increase in drug abuse in the camp.

      

     I thought it would be fitting to end my presentation with a peaceful sunset because Lebanon is a really beautiful country, and at the risk of sounding cliché, I think it’s also a useful metaphor because no matter how bad or complicated things seem in Lebanon and the Middle East in general, people and organizations like the ones I’ve mentioned are working to make sure that the future is brighter.

      

     Thanks for reading.

      

350. Beyond the office: local encounters and new friendships in Beirut

     11:36 am Leave a Comment

     It’s now been a few weeks since I finished my internship/fellowship with Peace Labs and the Advocacy Project, and while I already know what a great experience it was, I’m sure it will take some time for me to realize the full impact it has had on me, both professionally and personally. Reflecting back on my ten weeks in Lebanon, I realize that my experiences outside the office were just as memorable as my workdays, and in many ways complemented what I learned while interning at Peace Labs. As part of my preparations before coming here, I underwent Hostile Environment Awareness Training. It made me worry a bit. “They’re sending me to a place where I might need to know these things?” I thought to myself. I immediately pictured some kind of war-torn country, debris everywhere. That was my mistake. It’s good to be careful, but the added stress of me assuming the worst did not benefit me in any way. Hopefully I have now learned this, and it sticks.

     

     The famous ‘Pigeon Rocks’ of Beirut

      

     When I first arrived in Beirut, I initially stayed at one of the hostels near the nightlife area where I encountered dozens of foreign travelers who wanted to make the most of their time in Beirut. At one café in the neighborhood, I had several conversations with a bartender who turned out to be a Syrian from Aleppo. The pockmarks from bullets along the walls of the hostel dating from the Lebanese Civil War – a sight that turned out to be common away from the highly rebuilt downtown area – were a reminder of the devastation that accompanies civil wars and of the destruction that had recently been going on in his hometown.

     

     On the waterfront in Tripoli

     After a week at the hostel, I moved to an apartment in a more residential, less touristic neighborhood, nearer to the Peace Labs office. There, my apartment mates were from different parts of Syria and Lebanon, and worked locally at different jobs. Friends arriving at the apartment also went beyond national borders to include an Iraqi and other Syrians of various backgrounds. Using a mix of Arabic and English with the help of Google Translate, we were able to communicate and all became friends.

     

     View from my apartment in Beirut

     Other friend groups that I became a part of were involved in different kinds of activities both in Beirut and around the country, which provided additional opportunities to meet locals, as well as travelers, expats, and other individuals from different cultures. One building where we would often meet up was busy with various kinds of activities including improv theater, an NGO office, language exchange, and Friday night dinners organized by a Syrian friend who wanted to offer Syrian and Lebanese cuisine, accompanied by homemade wine and arak (traditional Lebanese liquor) that another friend brought from his village for foreigners to experience and enjoy at reasonable prices. I not only enjoyed eating there, but also ended up helping out in the kitchen when things got hectic.

     Store with my name on it in Beirut’s Armenian neighborhood

     Much of the news regarding the Middle East that arrives in the U.S. focuses on hot-button political issues that often obscure the human aspect behind the events. For those who have never been to the region, this is perhaps also more difficult to recognize. It is all too easy these days, as it has been throughout history, to categorize other individuals as opponents because they live on the other side of any particular border, whether a physical boundary or an imaginary line. Groups fighting other groups can be divided into large expanses, East vs. West, North vs. South, along national or religious lines, or even between neighborhoods, which had occurred in Tripoli, as I discussed in a previous post. As the seventeenth-century French mathematician and physicist Blaise Pascal remarked, however, “Can anything be more ridiculous than that a man has a right to kill me because he dwells the other side of the water, and because his prince has a quarrel with mine, although I have none with him?” (Pensees, IV [1670]). My time at Peace Labs and my interactions outside the office have reinforced my conviction that getting to know others through communication and open interaction can lead not only to friendship between individuals, but, ideally, peaceful coexistence among peoples.

      

     

      

      

351. Secondary Peacebuilding in Challenging Contexts: Ruwwad Center in Tripoli

     11:21 am Leave a Comment

     Ruwwad Al Tanmeya is a regional community development organization, founded in Jordan in 2005 by Fadi Ghandour (the founder of Aramex), as part of his corporate social responsibility (CSR) efforts. Ruwwad expanded to Egypt and Ramallah in 2011, and it opened in Tripoli, Lebanon, in 2012.

     The following is based on a conversation with Sarah Al-Charif, director of Ruwwad Al Tanmeya in Lebanon.

     While Ruwwad is not explicitly a peacebuilding organization, in Tripoli, given the fact that the communities of Jabal Mohsen and Beb El-Tebbeneh are both equally integrated and working together at Ruwwad, the organization has, in fact, contributed to peacebuilding. While supporting education, economic empowerment, and civic engagement is their primary goal, they have a significant secondary peacebuilding component. Sarah explains that, while they do not organize conferences or workshops about peacebuilding or conflict management, they are actively involved in the process itself: “peacebuilding for us is more tangible; you can measure it. Because you’re getting people together from both communities to be educated, to learn together by attending the same university classes, to be together on the playground, to be together in the workshops that we do, to work together, to volunteer together. So this is why we see the peacebuilding itself as a byproduct of the programs that we do.”

      

     Sarah has been deeply connected and instrumental in the development of the Ruwwad Center in Lebanon. Since 2010, she had been working with Hala Fadel, a social entrepreneur and businesswoman who focuses on promoting social impact and entrepreneurship in the Arab region. Sarah worked with her on entrepreneurial competitions in Tripoli and North Lebanon supporting entrepreneurs to start their own businesses. After achieving notable success in the city, they decided to continue with more initiatives in Tripoli.

      

     2012 was the peak of instability and insecurity in Tripoli due to the sectarian clashes happening between the neighborhoods of Beb El Tebbaneh and Jabal Mohsen. Hala was able to see the importance of intervening in such a context at such a sensitive time. Hala and Sarah had the idea of working on development initiatives in Tebbaneh and Jabal Mohsen, but wanted to conduct an initial community needs assessment to deepen their understanding of the context, programmatic needs, and grassroots concerns. Having access to a strategically located building, and having a team, a vision, and a needs assessment, Hala (through her connection with Fadi) was able to establish Ruwwad Al Tanmeya in Lebanon, with herself as chairwoman.

     Although they didn’t start operating from the building until January 2013, they started activities from the summer of 2012. Since then, the Center has witnessed the various evolutions of the conflict, having operated during ten of twenty rounds of fighting, at the time of the reconciliation in April 2014, and in the post-reconciliation period up to the present.

     The Ruwwad Center is unique for several reasons. First of all, it is mainly funded through the private sector. Business entrepreneurs deploy their resources, connections, knowledge, etc. to support marginalized communities. This gives the Center a significant competitive advantage vis-à-vis other NGOs. Second, the location is strategic in that from the outset it enabled the organization to bring people together while the surrounding environment was trying to tear them apart. Third, the team of people who have been behind the operations from the beginning feel a strong sense of ownership and dedication to their work at the Center. Fourth, the model itself helps the people become aware of their own resources and strengths to support their own communities.

     For a community development program to be successful, it must rely on, and be supported by, members of that community. People from the outside will not properly understand the needs – and thus will not be able to really solve the problems  – of the community in question because they will come with their own perspective and experiences. Through Ruwwad programs, community members discover what skills and capabilities they have, and what it takes to develop their communities. The programs themselves are also carefully designed. Every year, staff go to Jordan for regional training on methodologies, which they then integrate in their programs with the youth, so that the youth can then transfer this learning to the beneficiaries.

     All of the Ruwwad Centers follow the same model with three main programs: Youth Organizing, Child Development, and Community Support. The Youth Organizing program opens the door for youth ages 14-25 that are marginalized and in financial need, who want to pursue their education at university or polytechnic institutes, who have shown leadership skills, and who are passionate about giving back to their community. After several rounds of applications, written tests, interviews, and participation in community engagement projects, if selected, they are provided with a full scholarship until they graduate.

      

     

     The scholarship is conditional, however. As scholars, they must also be volunteers, dedicating four hours per week to support their local community through Ruwwad programs. They must also succeed academically as well as participate in the enrichment programs offered by Ruwwad. Each week, Ruwwad hosts cultural debate sessions, called Dardashat, where they bring speakers or facilitators, and give the youth a space to express themselves and listen to each other on a particular topic. This is a significant component of their life skills training as they learn to listen actively and to respect, accept, and appreciate diversity. This also provides a space for them to find common ground and discuss painful moments they’ve gone through, realizing they’ve shared similar pain, and now share a same purpose to live with dignity, to be educated, and to have a better future. Scholars also attend business skills trainings to empower their language, IT, entrepreneurial, and soft skills. Thus, when they graduate after 3-5 years, the scholars have at least a Bachelor’s degree from a university or polytechnic institute, 100 hours of social experience in their local communities, and employable skills to be competitive in the job market. Ruwwad also supports them to find an internship, job opportunities, or even to start their own business.

     The community service hours of the scholars are spent either in the child development program or the community support program. The child development program supports children ages 6-12 from the community, and incorporates an inquiry-based learning methodology, which encourages the children to be explorers and to research and provide answers for themselves. This is fostered through a particular methodology which is integrated in the storytelling, creative arts, creative sciences, sports, wood workshop, children’s literature, among other activities. The child development programs are run both as a child learning incubator in the community center, as well as in public schools in the community where Ruwwad has permission to operate. Furthermore, they offer parental and community support programs to support the parents of the children.

     

     The third program is the community support program, which focuses mainly on empowering women. This program includes the Women Advancement track, which supports women from both communities economically and educationally. Three years ago, as a component of their economic support program, Ruwwad opened a community kitchen, where women who share the painful effects of the conflict (loss of family members, etc.) can come together, share a new purpose, and support their families.

     The women also go through an educational cycle which supports their learning through a curriculum delivered either at Ruwwad or through partnerships to raise awareness about legal issues, human rights, nutrition, hygiene, etc. Moreover, the medical student volunteers at Ruwwad also design an educational curriculum for the women to raise awareness about health and hygiene, conducting sessions every week or every two weeks.

     

     The community support programs also feature various other kinds of business/economic support programs through microloans, grants, or in-kind support. The Ruwwad Center also implements some other project-based programs, such as the French Fund for Innovative Projects from Civil Societies and Coalitions of Actors (PISCCA), where high school students receive either French or English language support and IT, in order to be prepared for, and succeed in, university studies and the job market. Some of these high school students also later become scholar-volunteers at Ruwwad. In this sense, Ruwwad is looking to complete the cycle, reaching back to empower everyone from childhood until they enter the job market.

     

      

      

      

     All this is not without challenges, however. In fact, the Ruwwad Center has faced challenges and overcome obstacles since its inception. During the period of clashes, security was one of the biggest concerns. Even getting to the Center was dangerous. While physically located in Beb El Tebbeneh, the front entrance to the Center opens on Jabal Mohsen. Thus, in order for people to safely enter from Tebbeneh, a side entrance had to be built.

      

      

      

      

      

     Side entrance to the Ruwwad Center

      

     Even so, for some of the youth, even those from Tebbeneh or Jabal who may have lived on the periphery of their neighborhoods, convincing their parents to let them go to the heart of the conflict was certainly a challenge.

      

     

     But even aside from the conflict, the very nature of their work presents many obstacles. While working with marginalized communities and women empowerment programs already presents a set of challenges, Sarah explains that, in addition, “the community service itself was a challenge; because it’s a new concept to engage people and to tell them ‘you have what it takes to give back to your community.’ So this is a new model for them; a new concept.”

     Additionally, given the dominance of political and religious affiliations in the area, building trust with the communities also posed a challenge. The people were initially cautious about a potential hidden agenda of the Center. However, after seeing the bravery, dedication, and perseverance of the people at Ruwwad, working impartially despite the conflict, and supporting both sides equally, it didn’t take long for the Center to build this trust and credibility with the communities.

     

     View of Syria Street from the roof of the Ruwwad Center

      

     Through these programs, the Ruwwad Center is contributing to the development of new leadership within the communities, not built on any religious or political affiliations, but on the caliber and qualifications of people more aware of their problems and more passionate about representing their communities. Given that it takes between three and five years for the scholars to finish their programs and earn their degrees, the first significant batch graduated at the end of last year. Many have already found jobs or internships, but they still maintain their connection to Ruwwad, stopping by to visit when they have the chance, and continuing to support and serve as ambassadors, advocating both for their communities and for the Center itself. We all look forward to their future successes and continued efforts to support their communities.

      

      

      

      

     *Visual diagrams taken from Ruwwad pamphlet

      

352. Nepal on my mind

     November 16, 2017 11:51 am Leave a Comment

     “Activism is not a fashion show.” On the contrary, it is a lot less organized, and involves a multitude of actors and stakeholders. The one and most important take away from my experience in Nepal is that Transitional Justice as most things are is highly contextual. In particular transitional justice is incredibly unique depending on the dynamics of the preceding conflict and the politics at play. One thing that however remains common across contexts; there are always actors behind the scenes fighting for victims and for some semblance of justice. Three months later, the people I met in Nepal remain etched in my mind . I therefore wanted to take my final blog as an opportunity to spotlight a few of those actors and their various roles:

     Dewan Rai “You cannot jail the powerful” On one of our first days in Nepal, we met with Kathmandu Post journalist, Dewan Rai who has written extensively on the transitional justice process and its politicization. He has and continues to play a key role in bringing attention to the real issues facing the process, particularly political barriers and key moments and ways forward based on his experience and investigations. 

     Ramesh “Activism is not a fashion show” Although I do not remember his last name as we met in an informal setting, Ramesh works for a German organization in Nepal and was focused on memorialization as a field of study. Memorialization is often neglected yet it is an integral part of the healing process, collectively and individually. I found an interesting article by Simon Robins, a researcher in transitional justice who highlighted some of the ways Nepal has memorialized the conflict: Ramesh thus is facilitation some important programs and strongly believed that it is a complex and multi-faceted process that needs to involve the victims on the ground first and foremost. Hence, the quote above.

     Ram Bhandari “Its all about critical engagement” Ram Bhandari, founder of NEFAD, and whose father was disappeared during the conflict is an active and seemingly unstoppable activist. He’s developed a three-pronged approach to NEFAD; family mobilization, advocacy and small programs (such as economic development programs in Bardiya). Ram’s dedication is what keeps him going and his will to see the voices of victims heard is a key driver for his work. 

     Sarita Thapa “Most women just want the truth” Sarita, as you have probably read in previous blogs is one of the most inspiring people I met in Nepal. Despite being through numerous hardships herself, she has dedicated most of her life and time to victim engagement in the Bardiya regions, gathering stories, organizing the Bardiya women to form a business and being a liaison between women on the ground and the two truth commissions. She is truly superwoman as she is often described.

     In addition to national efforts, a few months into the semester as I reflect on my experience in Nepal, I came across an article written earlier this year in the New York Times. Despite constant fear that Nepal is largely absent from the news, and that the process has been forgotten, there are a close knit of researchers and journalists working to ensure that the process remains on the headlines locally and internationally, 10 years later and despite lack of support from international organizations.

     Please read the article here: https://www.nytimes.com/2017/01/29/world/asia/a-decade-after-nepals-maoist-rebellion-little-justice-for-victims.html

     I am truly grateful for my experience in Nepal, the friends I made, the adventures we experienced and most of all the brave and resilient women of Bardiya who are survivors in every sense of the word.

     

353. Story of a peacemaker: Creativity at its best in local conflict conciliation

     November 10, 2017 8:15 pm Leave a Comment

     Despite the attention the recent influx of Syrian refugees receives in ‘Western’ media, many may be surprised to know that Lebanon, a small country (10,452 km² [4,036 sq mi], smaller than the U.S. state of Connecticut) of around 6 million people (slightly larger than the population of the U.S. state of Maryland), hosts the second largest population of refugees worldwide (behind Pakistan^[1]), and has the highest density of refugees-to-host population. But this is not a recent phenomenon. In fact, there are some refugees who have been in Lebanon for over half a century.

     

     Administrative office within the Beddawi Palestinian Camp near Tripoli

     The population of Palestinian refugees in Lebanon is estimated at around 450,000, which is around 10% of the total population, although accurate demographic information is difficult to find for Lebanon in general given that, for political reasons, there has not been an official census since 1932. The earliest arrivals date back to 1948 following the First Arab-Israeli War, but they have continued to come, some even two-time refugees – having fled originally to Syria, and now being forced to Lebanon as a result of the conflict there.

     In Lebanon, Palestinians live in a number of designated camps throughout the country. These camps are run completely independent of the Lebanese government and, in coordination with the Palestinian Authority, are responsible for the organization and security of the camps. Since 2013 Peace Labs has been involved in projects in the Beddawi camp, near Tripoli, and during my summer internship I had the opportunity to speak with Abu Rami, who is in charge of providing services in the camp. In addition to working with the Peace Labs program, Abu Rami does social reconciliation work in conjunction with various popular entities, social groups, and NGOs working in the camp.

     

     Abu Rami in his office

     Abu Rami was born in 1953 in Tripoli, Lebanon, to parents from northern Palestine. In 1968, he joined the Palestinian military organization which polices the camps, and eventually went to study in Bulgaria as part of a program organized by the Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO), which sent groups of Palestinians to study abroad in order to later return and transfer their knowledge to help improve the situation of the Palestinians.

     Having studied psychology and business in Bulgaria, Abu Rami joined the popular committee upon his return. Within the Palestinian camps, there are three governmental structures: the head office, which communicates/coordinates with the Lebanese government; the popular committees, which serve as the governing structure for the camps; and the Palestinian security force, which acts as a police force for the camps, as well as connecting to the Lebanese military in case there are any serious problems in the camps.

      

     

      

     The role of the popular committee is to help the people and provide services, such as water, electricity, health, education, and sanitation. As part of the popular committee, Abu Rami oversees service provision, and has also been involved in a number of other activities: serving as an organizer and working in the archives, running a sports club within the camp, communicating among organizations inside and outside the camp, and dealing with legal issues related to refugees, particularly the status of children. He was also in charge of the refugees who fled northward after the Israeli invasion and occupation of southern Lebanon in 1982, and, more recently, he is responsible for following up with the approximately one thousand families of refugees from Syria who have moved into the camp.

     Work in Beddawi poses various challenges. The camp was built in 1957 in a 1km² area provided for the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA), which is responsible for supporting Palestinian refugees, and was originally intended for 17,500 people. Today, the camp holds upwards of 50,000 people, but its geographic area has not expanded along with the population growth because Palestinians are legally barred from owning property in Lebanon outside of the designated camps. This is a major challenge for Beddawi, as Palestinians from 1967, and later those who fled southern Lebanon in 1982, joined those from 1948 who were already living in the camp. Furthermore, Syrians, Palestinians from Syria, Lebanese, and Kurdish people live in the camp. The overpopulation of the camp is a source of tension within the camp as people live in crowded buildings, often with little space between the buildings themselves, and even take over the little public space available.

     

     In addition to the detrimental effect that the lack of green areas or public spaces has on the quality of life in the camp, the limited property has significant consequences for social life in the camp. One of the most common has to do with inheritance, given that all children should inherit equally, but this frequently leads to intra-familial conflict.

     Abu Rami told the story of one family in which the mother and father both passed away, leaving five children: three sons (two of which were living in Germany), and two daughters. Although all the siblings had rights to the house, the brother who was still living in the camp tried to get the sisters to marry so that he would get the entire house, and be able to marry and bring his wife there. The other siblings naturally protested, but the brother persisted, even making modifications to the house to suit his needs. When this situation was brought to the attention of the local government, Abu Rami and other members of the popular committee met with each of the siblings, including one of the brothers who came back from Germany, to try to find a way to resolve the issue that was fair and acceptable to all. In the end, they decided on an economic solution, which was for the youngest brother to pay his siblings $5,000 for their share of the house. Yet there remained the issue that the youngest brother did not have the money to pay. At this point, the boss of the youngest brother (who worked in construction) stepped in, and contracted the debt with the understanding that the youngest brother would repay little by little through his work.

     

     This episode showcases several aspects of the community’s approach to resolving social conflict. The first is the practice of engaging all the parties involved as well as the committee of service providers, and in the case of inheritance disputes, the committee that works with the prisons. They then call them all together and try to find a solution that works for all sides. If they can’t find a solution in the first meeting, they will ask for another one at a later date, with the interim time meant for everyone to continue thinking about the problem and looking for a small “key” to resolve the conflict in a way that is acceptable to all. At times, however, if they cannot come up with a solution on their own, they may try to engage other people, organizations, or local authorities to provide new solutions, incentives, or pressure, particularly if they take a decision that some parties are not happy with. Depending on the issue, they may also ask the Lebanese government to get involved, given that it is ultimately responsible for the wellbeing of the Palestinian people living there.

     Abu Rami also stressed that they work to solve problems right away. If conflicts are left to fester, they will eventually expand, and be much harder to solve. He gave the example of problems stemming from the schools. In the camp, the primary school classrooms run by UNRWA sometimes have up to fifty students. Under these circumstances, teachers are not able to effectively manage the class, and students are not able to learn. Furthermore, if/when conflict arises among the pupils, these problems can be brought home to the parents, potentially leading to tensions between families and groups. This also creates friction between the parents and the schools. For this reason, there are many people, like Abu Rami, who, in addition to their work in the popular committee, serve as local mediators, ready to address these problems as they appear.

     

      

     Related to the problem of overpopulation are problems related to the provision of services, such as water and electricity, which are often not enough or not distributed evenly to everyone. It should be noted that the camps operate independently of the Lebanese state, and receive no services from it. Most services are provided and distributed by the UNRWA (except electricity, which is brought in from Lebanon), and the popular committees try to supply the rest. But even so, this is a major source of conflict in the camp. Frequently, problems arise among neighbors who share water pipes or electrical lines, with accusations of abuse or excessive use of utilities, and even potential thefts.

     These problems are exacerbated by the fact that the UNRWA, which is responsible for giving services to the Palestinians, is not able to provide as much as they were in the past. While they used to give education and health for all of the refugees, the major donor countries are not able to continue supporting, meaning that the UNRWA has had to cut down on its services. This has led to tensions between the refugees and the UNRWA, and a situation in which people cannot afford services such as health and education. The health clinics themselves have also been affected, as there aren’t enough doctors or medicine to take care of the patients, and if a case is serious enough that the person needs to be transferred to a hospital, the people cannot afford the medical expenses.

     The popular committee is not exempt from these conflicts with the community. Since the popular committee is responsible for providing the services that UNRWA doesn’t, they are often the point of contact for the community, even for electricity, which is supplied (at a cost) by a Lebanese company called Qadisha. If the company is late to fix an operational malfunction or some other problem with the power, it is often the popular committee that bears the brunt of the blame for the shortage.

     

     Perhaps the most important challenges confronting the Palestinians of Beddawi are economic. Palestinians in Lebanon face substantial obstacles for employment outside the camps. For this reason, many young, even highly educated, Palestinians find themselves unemployed, and without future prospects for improved living conditions – a significant contributing factor to instability and tensions in the camp.

      

     These economic considerations also affect the family and social life of the camp’s inhabitants. They are the reason behind many of the fights over inheritance, but also play a role in conflicts over marriage and divorce. Abu Rami told another story of a family in which the son wanted to marry, but without enough money, and no possibility for a separate living space, the father objected, and after an escalation of the conflict, the mother and son left the house. Abu Rami went to talk to each party and explained each other’s point of view, and was eventually able to reconcile the family.

     Because the popular committee has very limited funds, collected from very low taxes or small percentages on sale and rental contracts, they rely heavily on support from other organizations to help. For example, following the influx of refugees fleeing the Nahr El Bared camp after the clashes there, the electrical company was not able to cope with the added strain. At that time, the popular committee asked the UNRWA to work with them and the electric company to make sure everyone had access to electricity. Furthermore, the Norwegian Refugee Council has helped to fix houses, and the Red Cross has helped Palestinian refugees from Syria by paying for rents in the camp, as well as working with the popular committee to buy a piece of land and make it suitable for them to have a place to bury their deceased relatives.

     

     The solutions most often proposed by the NGOs or government, however, don’t address the real roots of the economic and social problems. And while Peace Labs doesn’t offer any concrete services – and for this reason many of the camp’s inhabitants may not even know that they were running a project there – Abu Rami said that he liked the program and that, for him, the knowledge that Peace Labs brought was a very important and significant service to the community.

     The story of Peace Labs’ involvement in Beddawi began in 2013 when a group of people came to the camp, offering to work with the Palestinians to help them know more about their conflicts and the root causes. Out of these meeting was formed a group of Palestinians who were to focus on mediation and resolving conflicts within the camp. For two years they met, brought speakers and experts, and conducted activities to spread awareness and help make people more aware of the types of conflict in the camp, as well as the potential causes and solutions.

     Abu Rami said he felt the Peace Labs program was particularly rewarding for him because he thinks people should always learn, even at his age, and that the work he did with the group offered him different strategies and a more organized process for dealing with conflict, solving problems, and making peace. It also helped him with communication and analysis of the source of the problem, as well as of the context, i.e., who caused it, and who might have certain influence or could otherwise help resolve it.

     

     Abu Rami also noted that he liked Peace Labs’ approach because it’s not only a question of bringing a service, but that it’s also important to study the situation, the people, and their needs in order to provide the right services. In other words, you can’t have a project without asking the people or soliciting their opinions. This has the added effect of showing solidarity with, and concern for, the people, which, for marginalized communities, is of significant value.

     Additionally, Abu Rami felt that the education, research, and solutions/opportunities Peace Labs provided were real services. For example, Peace Labs did some research on the way people came to work in the public places, and proposed that all the people gather in a particular place to sell their goods, and that the road be cleaned and made nice.

     Knowing that this blog would be read by a mostly American audience, when I asked if there was anything he would like to say to them, Abu Rami asked for the American people to be with the Palestinians. He acknowledged that the United States are great funders of the UNRWA, but politically speaking, he asked the Americans to be kind. He added that the American people are educated and understanding, and that they have great knowledge about Palestine and its history. And because the U.S. are a great power, they can influence others and have the power to help get the people back to their homes, noting that Palestinians are not living well outside of their homeland.

     Abu Rami was one of those who would have been able to receive Lebanese nationality, which would likely have made life easier for him; however, he says that he refused because his Palestinian identity is too integral a part of him to give up. Behind the frail exterior is a very smart, kind, energetic, and determined man, who works tirelessly to improve the lives of those in his community. From the little time I spent with him, and from the interactions I observed, it was clear that Abu Rami is a dearly beloved and well-respected figure in his community. Partnerships like the one between Peace Labs and Abu Rami are essential for effectively transforming conflict at the local level. But without the resolution of higher-level political and legal questions, they likely face a long-term and potentially endless struggle for peace.

      

     ^[1] The Daily Star, 7 January 2015, “Lebanon hosts second largest refugee population: UN”

      

      

      

      

354. Story of a Peacemaker: How much can be swept under the rug?

     7:49 pm Leave a Comment

     Some conflicts are either too political or too complicated for outsiders (and maybe even insiders) to understand, and yet one is nevertheless expected to take a side. Although I studied Middle Eastern history in college, knowing that the Lebanese Civil War was so complex, and that I would never fully understand it, I chose to remain blissfully ignorant, essentially ignoring it in my studies. However, when I found out that I had been accepted to an internship position at a peacebuilding NGO in Lebanon for the summer, I realized I needed a crash course on the subject to, at a minimum, recognize some of the names of certain key figures, and have a rough idea of what had happened (for a general overview, I would recommend Al Jazeera’s 15-part series on the War in Lebanon from 2001).

      

     

     One of the most well-known symbols of Beirut: Mohammad Al-Amin Mosque and St. Georges Maronite Church standing side by side in Downtown Beirut

      

     Surfing through Wikipedia, it’s easy to fall down the rabbit hole, reading about one massacre, carried out in retaliation for another, which was reprisal for an assassination, which was spurred on by other killings, and so on, and so on; a vicious cycle of violence begetting more violence which engulfed the country for fifteen years.

     Hindsight, they say, is 20/20; and as a foreigner scrolling through Wikipedia, this was plain enough for me to see, but for someone who had been affected by the conflict or been at the heart of the violence, it must have been blinding, a state that contributed to the perpetuation of these injustices.

     While watching video clips and documentaries on YouTube, someone I noticed who seemed also to recognize the danger of this cycle was a former combatant named Assaad Chaftari. He was featured in two videos: an Al Jazeera report on the over 17,000 individuals still considered ‘missing’ from the civil war and a France 24 report on the legacy of the civil war.

      

      

     At the time I did not expect that I’d have the opportunity to meet Assaad in person, but when talking with JP about potential topics for blogs, he suggested a list of organizations and individuals whose work I could highlight, and given that he and Peace Labs had collaborated with Assaad and Fighters for Peace, he contacted Assaad and asked if he would be interested in meeting with me. The following stems from our July 31, 2017, meeting and includes context derived from a range of external sources.

     Assaad studied engineering before the war, but eventually became a high-ranking intelligence officer in a Christian militia during the war – a status which put him in the position to be responsible for many deaths throughout the conflict. However, he’s now vice-president of the organization Fighters for Peace, and is still involved in Initiatives of Change (IofC), the organization he credits for having transformed him.

     

     https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_Buchman

     Frank Buchman, founder of IofC

      

     IofC started with the work of the American minister Frank Buchman, who in the 1920s was instrumental in the development of the Oxford Group, an organization that sought to address societal problems through personal transformation. In the 1930s, during the build-up to WWII, the organization took on a new name derived from the argument that, rather than rearm militarily, European nations should rearm morally. The name Moral Re-Armament is still used in Lebanon, but the organization was officially renamed Initiatives of Change (IofC) in 2001.

     

     http://www.iofc.org

      

     Fighters for Peace is a much newer organization: a Lebanese NGO comprising former fighters from the Lebanese Civil War who came together in 2012 in response to the violence in Tripoli, with a desire to prevent a new generation from repeating the mistakes of the past. The two main goals of the organization are: 1) creating awareness about – and immunizing youth against – violence and radicalization; and 2) changing the hearts of ex-fighters.

     

      

     http://fightersforpeace.org

      

     According to Assaad, former fighters may be in a variety of situations regarding their past. Some may praise the war and the wartime as a period when life was easier and when they were appreciated or even celebrated as heroes. Others may be totally silent, never speaking of it, assuming their children and grandchildren don’t know that they were a part of the war. Some may even regret their actions, but keep it to themselves for a variety of reasons.

     This situation is detrimental, however, particularly for the youth who subconsciously inherit certain ideologies or mindsets from school, their parents, their society/community, politics, and the media. For this reason, Assaad says he could not continue hiding, as many still do, saying that he wasn’t wrong, that this was the logic of the war, that he was defending himself/his cause, or that he was only following the orders of his many superiors.

     In 2000 Assaad published an open letter in the Lebanese press both apologizing for his actions during the war and stating his forgiveness of those who acted against him and his family or community. “At the end, it was clear that I had to take this commitment for the sake of redeeming, maybe, what I had done and for the sake of the generations that would follow. Because I was somewhere a victim of the silence of the generations who came before me, and I did not want my son and the youth to be my victims again. Sometimes staying silent is a worse sin than what you did.”

     Assaad began this transformative journey towards the end of the civil war, during a period he recalls as the darkest of his life. At that point, he and his wife were forced to leave Christian areas and live among their former enemies, leaving everything they had for their former friends and allies to appropriate. It was then that they encountered Initiatives of Change – a group he describes as saying: “We are against you in politics, but we are with you on a human level, and we want to seek what is good for you on a human level.” Assaad’s wife was the first to go, and eventually she convinced him to join her despite his initial suspicion and doubts as to potential hidden agendas, leadership, funding, and foreign influence. Eventually, though, he started to regularly attend their meetings and participate in their dialogues where he interacted with different groups, among which were the people he had once hated as enemies.

     It was then that Assaad decided to change. “It does not begin by itself,” he says, “you have to open the door.” And he notes that “change is a process, a long process, a very painful process. Especially when there is blood on your past. Some things you can change easily, if you go and express your regret, redeem and/or repair, but you cannot bring back to life someone you’ve killed.”

     For someone as zealously devoted to his cause as Assaad was, “admitting that you were wrong is the toughest part of it, maybe. Admitting it to yourself is as difficult as admitting it to others.” And doing it publicly is toughest of all.

     Undaunted, after his transformation, Assaad started working to change others – to join a call for people to recover their moral compass, and to return to moral values and a non-violent ethics. A major component of this transformation has been his approach toward violence and war itself. He hopes that his apology and the apologies of others from different sides – different militias and/or religious/ideological causes – will help demonstrate to others that the use of violence in general is wrong, regardless of the cause.

     Nonetheless, apologies, and even accountability, for a fifteen-year civil war, in which almost everyone, especially at the higher political levels, was implicated, are few and far between. As Assaad discussed this with me, he described the public apologies of which he was aware. Of these, Samir Geagea’s was perhaps the one that received the most attention. Geagea had been the leader of the Lebanese Forces party during the war, and later imprisoned (many say for exclusively political reasons) for eleven years in solitary confinement from 1994 until he was released after the Cedar Revolution and the Syrian withdrawal from Lebanon in 2005. In 2008 he presented an apology; however, the old political divisions remained, with those already in favor of Geagea supporting him, and those already against him seeing it as politically motivated: “An apology coming from the brain, not the heart.”

     

     http://www.lebaneseexaminer.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/samir-geagea-1024×682.jpg

     Samir Geagea

      

     According to Assaad, Walid Jumblatt, leader of the Druze community in Lebanon, and son of Kamal Jumblatt, the assassinated founder of the Progressive Socialist Party, also expressed regret on two occasions, but “in the Lebanese way, where you speak of everything but you don’t speak of what is needed, but you express it one way or another.”

     

     http://www.michaeltotten.com/archives/2009/09/the-warlord-in.php

     Walid Jumblatt

      

     The third Lebanese group Assaad mentioned was the Organisation de l’action communiste au Liban (OACL), which, he said, carried out a critical study of their behavior during the war, but did not publish it, keeping it internal to the organization. Assaad also noted that only one publicly expressed sentence of the former leader expressed regret.

     The group Assaad felt was most serious in terms of its apology was the Palestinians. In 2007, their embassy in Lebanon issued a declaration apologizing for their actions during the war, noting especially that they should have acted differently toward a hosting country such as Lebanon. However, due to internal Palestinian political divisions, some factions supported the apology, while others were against it. According to Assaad, this is one of the reasons why the declaration did not receive the attention it deserved. Nevertheless, Assaad answered them. He organized the signatures of 44 Christian figures, and two months later published a statement accepting their apology and apologizing in turn. For Assaad, personally, it was also an occasion to reconcile with some of the leaders of the Palestinians in Lebanon.

     One reason Assaad felt apologies are hard to come by is that those same names I found time and again on Wikipedia and in accounts of the Lebanese civil war are the same names that I hear today running the government. As he said, “in general, after civil wars, the entities which took part in the fighting are dismantled, while in Lebanon, they are in power again – they are in power now. Not only that. They kept their names, I’m speaking of the political entities or militias, and their military names.”

     In an attempt to end the war, a general amnesty was granted, meaning that, as Judy Barsalou says, “only one major war criminal, Samir Geaga, was tried and imprisoned after the civil war ended in 1990. Because former warlords held key governmental positions, no effort was made at a national level to account for the grueling fifteen-year civil war” (Judy Barsalou in Barry Hart, ed. Peacebuilding in Traumatized Societies,p. 36).

     

     Monument to the civil war martyrs of the Christian Kataeb party

      

     Assaad added that “the communities are [still] behind those parties and those names,” and that the popular sentiment is that if you come forward and apologize, “you are weakening your group, even if you have already left them. Because it means that you are a traitor to your own. And I was – I’m still – called by some of my comrades as a traitor. Because they felt that accusing myself – and I never accused others of my party or my group, never – accusing myself was enough for them, and that it meant that I was accusing everybody.”

     He also noted that there may be a cultural element to it as well: “You show weakness when you forgive, or when you ask for forgiveness.” Furthermore, “in Lebanon, when you want to forgive someone, we don’t have the word ‘I forgive you.’ You say, ‘may God forgive you,’ or ‘may God forgive what is already in the past’ but we don’t use the word ‘I forgive.’ And when you ask for forgiveness, you use the plural. We don’t say ‘I am sorry,’ we say ‘forgive us’ – in the plural. So the individual does not exist. ‘سامحونا’ [sam7ouna], we say in Arabic. Meaning, forgive ‘us,’ never forgive ‘me.’”

     When I asked about the end of the civil war, Assaad countered with “did it end?” stating that he felt the conflict was still ongoing. He mentioned that the previous week, when speaking at a public event regarding the process of reconciliation, he commented that ‘Lebanon is maybe the only country which has known a civil war and still commemorates the beginning of the civil war, and not its end.’ And the lack of a specific, acute end to the conflict, combined with the continuation of events, as well as the lack of a concerted effort to deal with national/collective or personal trauma and historical issues going back centuries, further contribute to the sense of perpetuation of the war. As Barsalou notes, “instead, national authorities made physical reconstruction the top national priority” (op. cit., p. 36). To this effect, the downtown area, which had been all but destroyed (sometimes intentionally) during the war, was entirely rebuilt and refashioned into the posh, although largely empty, central district it is today, covering over any reminders of the devastation it had endured during the war.

     

     View of the reconstructed central downtown area of Beirut

     Much the same has been done in other spheres related to the war. The common excuse is that the war is still too recent, and although officially stopped, the lingering causes and tensions remain latent in society, nothing having been resolved by the fifteen years and an estimated 150,000 – 200,000 deaths. Many say that to start a process of digging up the truth and rehashing the experience of the war would only reignite those suppressed feelings and bring about another civil war.

                           

     Memorial to the assassinated Christian militia leader and president-elect, Bachir Gemmeyel (left)

      

     Memorial to the assassinated Sunni Muslim Prime Minister, Rafic Hariri, in front of the Saint Nichan Armenian Orthodox Cathedral (right)

      

     Assaad, however, believes that the country has become stuck at the transitional phase, and that these issues still need to be addressed. And the best way to deal with these issues, he says, is “by addressing them. It’s as simple as that. And writing our history. Writing it even if we don’t agree on it.” He then encouraged critical thinking on the part of the reader to realize that that there are different versions of the same events, but not to pick a version – instead, to recognize that “this is the truth, in the end, the truth of everybody is the real truth.”
     Assaad proposed that history be written and told at three levels: the personal, which would involve listening to the people who lived it, who were victims of it, or who lost relatives because of the event; second, the community level; and third, a national level to discover what causes civil war and how to prevent it in the future.

     

     Street art from Beirut’s southern suburbs

     He noted that in schools the history textbooks end with the creation of an independent Lebanese state because there’s too much controversy about the history since then. He added that there have been five national commissions tasked with writing an official history book, but that none of them were able to produce a result, particularly because politicians raised issues from centuries ago as new issues.

     This means that many people today, particularly the youth, have a limited understanding of the war, still conveyed to them through an ideological or sectarian lens. “If they know,” Assaad says, “they know sometimes the results – what they hear from their parents” about which side killed people from which other side – a conclusion meant to “summarize the whole history of the relations” between the groups, focusing on the negative aspects without addressing the full details and ignoring incidents of people helping each other during the war regardless of ideological or religious differences.

     He suggested that students and teachers be taught about the losses incurred during the civil war: “The figures are shocking, sometimes; and this is a good way to tell people that you cannot go to war for free.”

     Assaad and Fighters for Peace are particularly involved in working with youth for this reason. He adds that “being young is very dangerous. Because you are enthusiastic, first; you look for adrenaline, second; and third, you can be convinced of a cause very easily. While if you are much older, you are wiser at a certain level, so you think twice before engaging. And you try to see what is behind it and why.” Nevertheless, the approach, strategy, and techniques are largely the same. “In general, there’s not a huge difference in the logic that brings you to carry weapons and to kill.” And for Assaad and Fighters for Peace, their personal history gives them an advantage in this regard because from their experience, they understand the logic of war and of the fighters themselves, and communicate to them in a way they can relate to – without academic or theoretical jargon.

     Recently, Fighters for Peace has been involved in the Roadmap to Reconciliation project in Tripoli alongside Peace Labs and several other organizations. Regarding differences between dealing with fighters from the civil war, and those from the recent conflicts in Tripoli, Assaad notes, “first, it’s a Muslim-Muslim conflict in Tripoli. Two, it’s recent. So when you address ex-fighters of the civil war, you address people who are 52 or older. But when you address fighters of the recent incidents in Tripoli, it’s 15and above.” Additionally, “most of the reasons for the fighting in Tripoli were because of poverty, while the Civil War had political and ideological motives behind it. Of course, poverty was one of the reasons too, but it was not the essential thing.” Moreover, “while the Civil War was political at a certain level, and many of the events were commandeered by politicians, in Tripoli it’s more obvious.” Assaad gave the example of battles named by the fighters themselves for the politicians who distributed money and weapons. Of the 21 or 22 rounds, it is known why and who is behind each one. And although to a certain extent it could be compared to the situation in Palestine during the Civil War, an additional component to the recent conflict is the effect of events in Syria.

     For all these reasons, Fighters for Peace prepared two camps for ex-fighters: one for those from the Civil War, and one for fighters from the more recent conflicts. Assaad says that they want fighters from Tripoli to address their peers because while no one can doubt his qualification to speak on the subject, he acknowledges that it makes a difference being a Christian from Beirut talking about war and peace.

     Overall, Assaad is optimistic for the prospects of continued peace, if only because of an international consensus from the major, and even some regional, players that Lebanon be “kept aside.” At the very least, external forces are not encouraging a new civil war in Lebanon, whether because they need it as a model of conviviality for elsewhere, or as a buffer or release valve to contain some of the pressures of its regional neighborhood. He also pointed out the internal disequilibrium in military force that has thus far prevented any internal opposition, and, given the lack of interest in opening an internal front, looks to be sustainable for the near future. Additionally, Assaad believes there is greater awareness of the costs of war, and he also credits the many NGOs and civil society organizations working against discrimination, and for dialogue, non-violent approaches, conflict resolution, historical memory, and oral history, as contributing to the stability of peace.

      

     In addition to the work he does for his organizations, his other outreach and speaking engagements, and his appearances in documentaries and news segments viewable on TV or YouTube, Assaad has also written a book, La Vérité même si ma voix tremble, which, he says, is not a history of the war, but a personal account of his experience before, during, and after, and why he’s doing what he’s doing now.

     To learn more about the work of Fighters for Peace or Initiatives of Change, visit their websites:

     http://fightersforpeace.org/

     http://www.iofc.org/

      

      

      

      

355. Peacebuilding stories from the field: Tripoli

     7:34 pm 66 Comments

     When I heard that Peace Labs was implementing programs in northern Lebanon, naturally I did a search for YouTube videos about the area. One of the first that came up was a VICE News report about the conflict between Beb El Tebbeneh and Jabal Mohsen, two neighborhoods in the northern city of Tripoli, Lebanon’s second largest. As my mother sat down to watch the video with me, I realized too late that this was not the best introduction to Lebanon for her to see. Although she has always encouraged me to travel and supported my wandering to places out of the norm, doing a summer internship in what looked like a war zone was a bit too much. Eventually, though, I was able to reassure her that the communities in which Peace Labs was actually working were not near the fighting in Tripoli, and that if it were really that dangerous, I wouldn’t be sent there.

     In a later conversation with JP, the director of Peace Labs, I learned that they had a small office in Tripoli and that I would most likely be spending some time working there in order to be closer to the target communities. As it turns out, the office is strategically (and symbolically) located precisely on the border between the two neighborhoods I had seen fighting in the documentary. By having an office right in the middle of a former fighting zone, Peace Labs hopes to send a message proving its commitment to working with these conflict-affected groups. I was, of course, thrilled to go; my mother, not so much.

     The tensions between these communities in Tripoli have precedents in the Civil War (1975-1990) and the Syrian occupation of Lebanon (1976-2005), and while often simplified and portrayed as sectarian conflict between the neighborhood of Jabal Mohsen, which is primarily Alawite, and those in neighboring Beb El Tebbeneh, who are mostly Sunni, the fighting has much to do with historical, political, and economic considerations. All the same, the recent conflict in Syria has spilled over across the border into Lebanon and exacerbated these tensions, with Jabal Mohsen siding with the Syrian regime, and Beb El Tebbeneh supporting the opposition.

     Until three years ago, various sporadic and intermittent rounds of fighting would occasionally erupt between the neighborhoods. Many claim it was an open secret that the fighting was being sponsored by certain political interests, particularly given that inhabitants of the historically marginalized and impoverished northern region would not spend their limited resources on weapons without external prompting and financial support. Three years ago, however, it was apparently decided at higher political levels that the fighting in these communities was no longer in the best interest of those promoting it, and soon after arrangements were made for the fighting to stop.

     

     One of the major lingering problems from the conflict, as one can imagine, is the continued presence of ex-fighters. On a personal level, these individuals had gone from victims to victimizers and/or heroes during the time of the conflict, but now that the fighting has stopped, they are scorned and seen as criminals by many for their prior activities. The psychological and social toll of this transformation is potentially destabilizing both for the individual and for their community.

     Former fighters also present an opportunity for significant reconciliation work, however, since their involvement in joint peacebuilding programs could show the rest of their communities that cooperation and trust can be built even between former battlefield opponents. The effect could be particularly powerful among the youth, some of whom may see the ex-fighters as role models to emulate, and these efforts would also inspire confidence in the peace process, convincing the communities that fighting will not break out again. The demobilization and rehabilitation of these former fighters is therefore important for peace work in the region.

     

     Along with the fragile social fabric, the physical appearance of the city still bears witness to the ferocity of former battles. While some buildings have been restored, evidence of the fighting abounds in the form of pockmarks from ricocheting bullets on many facades (as well as some larger holes from larger ammunition). Admittedly, these sights are not all that unusual for Lebanon. Outside of the posh downtown area of Beirut, which was rebuilt after the Civil War, pockmarked buildings can be found throughout the capital city. The damage in Tripoli, however, combines the historic scars with much more recent memories.

     

     Another sign of recent tensions is the heavy military presence which, although noticeable even in Beirut, is much more so in Tripoli. Although the city is calm, and the multiple checkpoints don’t seem to require anything more stringent than a look in the eye and a salutary ‘marhaba’ (hello) to the soldier, the heavier military presence nevertheless ensures a rapid response and the ability to quickly and effectively control particular strategic points. Some locals have also expressed a belief that the current ‘peace,’ which they view as only a ceasefire, will continue only as long as the Lebanese Armed Forces maintain their presence in the area, and that fighting would break out again if they were to abandon the checkpoints.

     

     Peace Labs had been involved in peacebuilding and conflict resolution work in northern Lebanon for some time even before the outbreak of the conflict in Syria, but these new dynamics add further complications to already delicate work. One of their recent projects was the Roadmap to Reconciliation in Tripoli (RRT) carried out in collaboration with several other organizations, such as Permanent Peace Movement, Fighters for Peace, Youth for Growth and Development, and SHIFT. This project was designed to test the waters for an eventual reconciliation process.

     

     The word “reconciliation” has a negative connotation in the minds of many locals given their past experiences both in the Civil War and during the more recent conflicts. The RRT was therefore intended to gauge the attitudes and receptiveness of the communities to participate in a peacebuilding process. Since a ‘reconciliation’ process dictated from above was unlikely to be successful, and, in fact, more likely to perpetuate the conflict dynamics, the RRT’s grassroots approach sought to understand the needs and demands of the communities in order to lay the groundwork for future programs. After rigorous analysis and discussion with both community members and peacebuilding professionals, the RRT also suggested various kinds of interventions that could contribute to creating peace in the area.

     

     The project methodology followed five stages. First was the establishment of a committee of experts from various organizations to design and plan the process. Next came the research, stakeholder analysis, and outreach. In this stage, the committee identified the stakeholders and explained the project through community leaders and gatekeepers, which allowed them greater access to community members and affected groups. In the data collection phase, they conducted ‘communal conversations’ and key informant interviews. The fourth phase was data analysis, which was supported by their technical partner and inspiration, the Forum for Cities in Transition (FCT), led by Professor Padraig O’Malley who, together with an FCT delegation, came to Tripoli to discuss the findings of the research before inviting the Tripoli delegation (along with delegations from 15 other cities) to a conference in Stolat, Bulgaria to further delve into the details and recommendations. The final stage was soliciting feedback from the community and drafting the Roadmap to Reconciliation document. In this stage, the committee reengaged the participants from the data collection phase, presented their findings, and encouraged the communities to take ownership of the project and become actively involved in implementing the RRT’s recommendations.

     

     Because of its history of tensions, both recent and more distant, combined with the spillover from the conflict in Syria, in terms of both violence and refugees, on top of the already large population of Palestinian refugees who have been there for decades, combined with the fact that the area is one of the more marginalized and impoverished of an already resource-limited country, northern Lebanon is particularly susceptible to the potential reemergence of large-scale violence. Thus, organizations such as Peace Labs, and particularly projects like the RRT, which prepare the ground and inform the field, are needed now more than ever.

     But after so much harm, there is limited political interest in this kind of social and urban restoration work. As Elias Khlat says in his film Tripoli: Road to Reconciliation; Part 1, “the conflict zones are left alone in the struggle to heal their wounds. As if the absence of war were enough alone to bring back life… As if nothing had happened before.” It is therefore essential to support the efforts of the organizations taking the initiative, and for more to join in these efforts. This will allow them to put sufficient pressure on the political level to act for the benefit of these communities, further ensuring such violence does not break out again.

      

      

      

     *Photos used with permission from Elias Khlat’s film, Tripoli: Road to Reconciliation; Part 1

      

      

      

      

356. Making a dent – reflecting on my time with GDPU

     October 8, 2017 9:14 pm 188 Comments

     

     Ogul PS latrine block installed by a different NGO.

     When I first tried writing this reflection I was back from Uganda but my semester had not started yet and I was struggling with how to convey the various things I learned from this summer. Since getting back into the swing of school again, I am looking at my summer a little bit differently. I am still incredibly grateful and honored by the opportunity and I will not forget the people I worked alongside who are continuing to do great work in Gulu. I also won’t forget Gulu, a very unique city in Northern Uganda, that was home for ten weeks. However, one of the things that I keep coming back to about this summer is the lack of international programming dedicated to persons with disabilities (PWDs) or that considers their needs, requirements, and rights. A glaring example for me were the latrines that were installed at Ogul Primary School by a different NGO a few years back. The girls toilets were supposed to be accessible, I think, however, there was no path leading to them from the school (so someone in a wheel chair could not access them), and they were just squat latrines without any handrails to help students with physical disabilities. So although the idea of installing latrines was a good thought for the school, the project didn’t go all the way through to consider all of the students who may need to use the toilets.

     It seems that persons with disabilities are often forgotten in planning and programming. Working with the Gulu Disabled Persons Union (GDPU) this summer I worked alongside people who were striving hard to make a difference in their community with minimal resources. I learned a lot of things from them and from my work but one of the most critical lessons was the need to encourage awareness and action among neighborhoods, communities, national, and international organizations to ensure the needs and rights of PWDs are taken into account. We did this at Ogul Primary School and I was happy that the school was open to the lessons we brought with us and felt comfortable enough to ask their questions. However, more needs to be done and GDPU just doesn’t have the resources to do it on their own, other organizations need to step up to the plate and make sure their programming is inclusive.

     

     Students from a former GDPU program designed to teach PWDs skills like electrical repair gather for a focus group over the summer.

     Looking back on my work this summer, I am very proud of all of it. I’m happy that Ogul Primary School was open and welcoming to the accessible toilet project and that the local government officials turned out for the handing over ceremony to lend their voices in support of sanitation, hygiene, and disability rights. Despite being proud of this, there were times when I felt like I could’ve done more. We always do when we’re confronted with a large problem like improving the lives and opportunities for PWDs. But on returning to school, I was reminded in one of my classes this semester that despite facing an immense and daunting issue (disability rights) we are all still able to make a dent. We aren’t going to solve the world’s problems because that is not the job of one person or one organization, however, we can make a dent. I made a dent this summer and I intend to continue to do so.

     

     Standing with Ogul Primary School’s Head Teacher in front of the new latrines!

357. Travesty of Justice in Nepal

     December 19, 2016 6:32 pm Leave a Comment

     Why has the human rights movement turned its back on relatives of the disappeared in Nepal?

     Kathmandu, Nepal: A disappearance, to human rights advocates, is the worst crime imaginable.
     So why has the human rights movement – including Human Rights Watch and Amnesty
     International – turned its back on the families of those who disappeared in Nepal?

     I was asked this question recently in the Midwestern district of Bardiya by women who lost
     relatives during the Maoist insurgency between 1996 and 2006. Some of the victims were taken
     by Maoists. Most were seized by Nepal’s security forces. None have reappeared.

     I have reported on disappearances in several countries and never failed to be inspired by the
     family members, who refuse to accept the loss of their loved ones. These Nepali women are
     among the most determined and bravest I have ever met.

     Their relatives were among 1,475 Nepalis who disappeared during the insurgency. This may
     seem small in relation to Nepal’s population of 28 million. In addition, many of the victims were
     from the Tharu, a minority in the Midwest of Nepal that has no representatives in parliament
     and exerts very little political influence.

     Nonetheless, many Nepalis view the disappearances as among the worst wounds of a brutal
     insurgency that have still not healed, ten years after the signing of the November 21 2006 Peace Accord. Until the issue is resolved, the political and social cohesion of Nepal will be put at risk.

     This makes it all the more surprising that the families have been badly let down by Western
     governments, the United Nations and human rights advocates who are normally vocal defenders
     of transitional justice.

     At issue is a 2014 law which established two commissions, one to investigate disappearances
     and the other to promote truth and reconciliation more generally. But the law also offered an
     amnesty for serious abuses committed during the emergency, and this has caused the
     international community to boycott the entire process. The last time a US official visited the
     commission on the missing was in April 2015.

     The legal deadlock may soon be resolved thanks to Nepal’s Supreme Court, which has ordered
     the law revised. The government is currently considering a draft that would rule out amnesty for
     murder, torture, disappearances, and rape committed during the conflict. If passed, the law
     should open the way to investigations that could even lead to the door of the current Prime
     Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal, who led the Maoist insurgency.

     So, one might ask, is this not an example of successful pressure by the human rights movement?
     Not to family members of the disappeared. They feel betrayed and abandoned. By boycotting the
     commissions, they say, the human rights professionals have ignored their right to be heard and
     to know the truth.

     The commissions have been harshly criticized by Nepalis for being slow to act and bureaucratic,
     but they have also chalked up some achievements. Between them they have registered some
     68,000 incidents and received 2,886 complaints from family members which could, if properly
     investigated, help to provide an official record for future generations – perhaps the most
     important function of truth commissions.

     The two commissions have also argued for a reparations policy that has paid $5,000 to most
     families and is considering a further $3,000 per family – a significant sum for the women I met
     recently, many of whom lost their breadwinners. If it is extended in February, the commission
     on the missing plans to collect ante–mortem data on the disappeared and follow up with
     exhumations, which would be a big step forward.

     Most important, the commissions have heard directly from family members. This is a critically
     important feature of truth commissions, and several women told me that they had found it
     cathartic to denounce their loss to an official body. By providing families with a forum, the
     commissions have also strengthened their national networks and advocates, like the Conflict
     Victims Common Platform and NEFAD (the National Network of Families of Disappeared and
     Missing Nepal). This has helped to build women’s civil society in isolated regions like Bardiya.

     These are significant outcomes, but they would have been more impressive if the human rights
     specialists and Western governments had contributed their resources and expertise. Why did
     they not work with the families in strengthening the commissions while at the same time
     arguing for the amnesty provision to be revised? It would have been difficult, but creativity has
     been a hallmark of the struggle for transitional justice – think of the way Human Rights Watch
     secured the indictment of Hissene Habre in Chad. It is hard not to conclude that a historic
     opportunity has been lost in Nepal.

     There is still time to change course. The next few weeks will be decisive as the commissions
     come up for an extension in February and the Nepali government struggles to revise the all–
     important law. Western governments should work with human rights leaders like Amnesty
     International, Human Rights Watch, and the International Center for Transitional Justice to
     support the process, starting now. It is particularly important that the commissions produce
     strong and credible reports that will endure.

     Finally, we should all listen to those who matter most – the grieving wives, sisters and daughters
     of the disappeared. These and other family members deserve enormous credit for the progress
     achieved so far. They should be ignored no longer.

      

358. World Bank Mountaineer Raises Funds for Rape Survivors in Mali

     June 2, 2016 7:22 am 117 Comments

     Download the pdf here.

359. Settlement expansion, closures in West Bank

     October 6, 2015 12:52 pm 1 Comment

     Published August 4, 2005

     co-written by: Ahmad Jaradat 

     On Thursday Israel’s Housing Ministry proposed the building of 72 more housing units in the settlement of Betar Ilit in the West Bank. In the past year many proposals have been approved for further expansion of Israeli settlements in East Jerusalem and the West Bank despite requests by the international community to uphold its promise to freeze settlement expansion. These steps are part of an effort to solidify Israel’s hold of the greater Jerusalem area. 

     Construction of the second section of the wall began in the West Bank city of Qalqilya on Wednesday morning. This part of the wall will be four kilometers long and 100 meters wide. 2000 dunams of Palestinian land will be confiscated for the construction of the wall. This land includes portions of olive tree field currently used by Palestinian farmers. Parts of it will be destroyed for the wall’s construction, while other areas will be on the Israeli side of the wall and the farmers will not be able to access it. In some areas the wall will extend 25 kilometers into the West Bank area, engulfing the greater Ma’ale Adumim settlement. 

     All entrances of Qalqilya remain closed and many checkpoints were set up across the city on Wednesday morning. In one checkpoint near Azoon, Palestinians waiting in line were said to have been checked physically and asked to remove their clothing. Their signatures and fingerprints were taken as well.Israeli forces reentered Tulkarm Wednesday morning and closed all the entrances. They set up checkpoints inside the city itself, in effect sequestering each neighborhood in the area. The southern part of the city was the main focus of the Israeli forces. The forces used loudspeakers to evacuate all the Palestinians from their homes in order to search the houses. Doors were forcefully broken and many household items were left damaged or in disarray. Some Palestinians were arrested in the process, including Palestinian National Council member Adnan Domeiri. 

     All entrances around the Jenin area are closed in preparation for the withdrawal of four Israeli settlements in the area. In Hebron, the Israeli army beat a 17-year-old Palestinian boy after stopping him on his way home. He was taken to the hospital and is considered in serious condition. In another incident, a 23-year-old boy walking through his family’s land was beaten by settlers who had claimed the land to be theirs. He is said to be recovering in a local hospital.
     

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:3,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     Published August 4, 2005<\/span><\/b><\/p>

     co-written by: Ahmad Jaradat <\/span><\/b><\/p>

     On Thursday Israel\u2019s Housing Ministry proposed the building of 72 more housing units in the settlement of Betar Ilit in the West Bank. In the past year many proposals have been approved for further expansion of Israeli settlements in East Jerusalem and the West Bank despite requests by the international community to uphold its promise to freeze settlement expansion. These steps are part of an effort to solidify Israel\u2019s hold of the greater Jerusalem area. <\/span><\/p>

     Construction of the second section of the wall began in the West Bank city of Qalqilya on Wednesday morning. This part of the wall will be four kilometers long and 100 meters wide. 2000 dunams of Palestinian land will be confiscated for the construction of the wall. This land includes portions of olive tree field currently used by Palestinian farmers. Parts of it will be destroyed for the wall\u2019s construction, while other areas will be on the Israeli side of the wall and the farmers will not be able to access it. In some areas the wall will extend 25 kilometers into the West Bank area, engulfing the greater Ma\u2019ale Adumim settlement. <\/span><\/p>

     All entrances of Qalqilya remain closed and many checkpoints were set up across the city on Wednesday morning. In one checkpoint near Azoon, Palestinians waiting in line were said to have been checked physically and asked to remove their clothing. Their signatures and fingerprints were taken as well.Israeli forces reentered Tulkarm Wednesday morning and closed all the entrances. They set up checkpoints inside the city itself, in effect sequestering each neighborhood in the area. The southern part of the city was the main focus of the Israeli forces. The forces used loudspeakers to evacuate all the Palestinians from their homes in order to search the houses. Doors were forcefully broken and many household items were left damaged or in disarray. Some Palestinians were arrested in the process, including Palestinian National Council member Adnan Domeiri. <\/span><\/p>

     All entrances around the Jenin area are closed in preparation for the withdrawal of four Israeli settlements in the area. In Hebron, the Israeli army beat a 17-year-old Palestinian boy after stopping him on his way home. He was taken to the hospital and is considered in serious condition. In another incident, a 23-year-old boy walking through his family\u2019s land was beaten by settlers who had claimed the land to be theirs. He is said to be recovering in a local hospital.\n<\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

360. More Palestinian homes destroyed as Israeli settlements expand in West Bank

     12:50 pm 92 Comments

     Published August 3, 2005

     co-written by: Ahmad Jaradat

     Any observer following the events unfolding in the occupied Palestinian territories will notice countless human rights violations. These include the violation of basic rights such as right of movement, right of education, right of health treatment, rights of women, rights of children, rights of working, and most importantly the fundamental rights to live and have shelter.

     The right of housing is a basic right of humans. Since the first days of the occupation, the Israeli Authority has systematically destroying Palestinian homes. Military orders were issued to justify such violations. For supposed ‘security reasons’ thousands of houses were demolished throughout the occupied territories. The family home of any Palestinian arrested in suspicion of involvement in militant activity is regularly demolished. It is seen as a kind of collective punishment against all families as well as Israel’s method of suppression, despite the fact that this is a violation of the Geneva Conventions and all humanitarian laws.

     Another justification used by Israel for its home demolition policy is based around the notion that those houses have been built illegally without permission. Thousands of houses have been demolished under the rationale of that argument. These days, Israel’s use of licensing violations as the justification for home demolitions is increasing in the West Bank. A few months ago tens of houses were demolished in an area south of Hebron and more houses were put on a list for future demolition. More than ten houses were demolished or given demolition orders in Walaja village west of Bethlehem. Last week, three houses were demolished in Khader village, and more orders were given to Palestinian families in the northern West Bank villages of Masha and Wadi Maleh. The same zoning and administrative excuses were given for the demolition orders issued in the East Jerusalem Palestinian village of Silwan.

     Large demonstrations took place yesterday in Borgeen village in the north of West Bank in objection to Israel’s home demolition policy. Internationalists from the Solidarity Movement and Israelis from peace groups participated in the demonstration. Many houses in the area have already been demolished and the Military Authority issued orders to demolish 18 more. The ways in which this affects the life of thousands of Palestinians who have fallen victim to Israel’s home demolition policy are immeasurable. The families whose houses were demolished are living in tents and caves, or in the crowded homes of their relatives. While home demolitions hamper the entire family’s ability to carry out their daily activities, Palestinian children suffer the greatest emotional trauma from witnessing their homes demolished.

     This policy has intensified in the areas of the occupied territories where settlement projects are under way. There is a direct link between the settlement expansion projects and the house demolition operations for license reasons. In every case the Israeli government has demolished, or has approved plans to demolish, Palestinian homes in areas strategically needed for future settlement expansion plans or the route of the separation wall. This is particularly apparent in Alkhader, in an area south of Hebron, where three houses were demolished last week and ten more are listed to be demolished. An Israeli settler road is in the process of being built in that exact area. The Israeli government continues its efforts to expand settlements and demolish Palestinian neighborhoods in the West Bank at a time when it is supposedly involved in negotiations with the Palestinian Authority. These policies contradict Israel’s stated interest in negotiating a peace agreement with the Palestinians. Israel’s peace negotiations with the Palestinian Authority and withdrawal from Gaza can therefore only be seen as an effort to distract the international community at a time when human rights violations are taking place in the occupied territories.

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:3,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     Published August 3, 2005<\/b><\/span><\/p>

     co-written by: Ahmad Jaradat<\/span><\/p>

     Any observer following the events unfolding in the occupied Palestinian territories will notice countless human rights violations. These include the violation of basic rights such as right of movement, right of education, right of health treatment, rights of women, rights of children, rights of working, and most importantly the fundamental rights to live and have shelter.<\/span><\/p>

     The right of housing is a basic right of humans. Since the first days of the occupation, the Israeli Authority has systematically destroying Palestinian homes. Military orders were issued to justify such violations. For supposed \u2018security reasons\u2019 thousands of houses were demolished throughout the occupied territories. The family home of any Palestinian arrested in suspicion of involvement in militant activity is regularly demolished. It is seen as a kind of collective punishment against all families as well as Israel\u2019s method of suppression, despite the fact that this is a violation of the Geneva Conventions and all humanitarian laws.<\/span><\/p>

     Another justification used by Israel for its home demolition policy is based around the notion that those houses have been built illegally without permission. Thousands of houses have been demolished under the rationale of that argument. These days, Israel\u2019s use of licensing violations as the justification for home demolitions is increasing in the West Bank. A few months ago tens of houses were demolished in an area south of Hebron and more houses were put on a list for future demolition. More than ten houses were demolished or given demolition orders in Walaja village west of Bethlehem. Last week, three houses were demolished in Khader village, and more orders were given to Palestinian families in the northern West Bank villages of Masha and Wadi Maleh. The same zoning and administrative excuses were given for the demolition orders issued in the East Jerusalem Palestinian village of Silwan.<\/span><\/p>

     Large demonstrations took place yesterday in Borgeen village in the north of West Bank in objection to Israel\u2019s home demolition policy. Internationalists from the Solidarity Movement and Israelis from peace groups participated in the demonstration. Many houses in the area have already been demolished and the Military Authority issued orders to demolish 18 more. The ways in which this affects the life of thousands of Palestinians who have fallen victim to Israel\u2019s home demolition policy are immeasurable. The families whose houses were demolished are living in tents and caves, or in the crowded homes of their relatives. While home demolitions hamper the entire family\u2019s ability to carry out their daily activities, Palestinian children suffer the greatest emotional trauma from witnessing their homes demolished.<\/span><\/p>

     This policy has intensified in the areas of the occupied territories where settlement projects are under way. There is a direct link between the settlement expansion projects and the house demolition operations for license reasons. In every case the Israeli government has demolished, or has approved plans to demolish, Palestinian homes in areas strategically needed for future settlement expansion plans or the route of the separation wall. This is particularly apparent in Alkhader, in an area south of Hebron, where three houses were demolished last week and ten more are listed to be demolished. An Israeli settler road is in the process of being built in that exact area. The Israeli government continues its efforts to expand settlements and demolish Palestinian neighborhoods in the West Bank at a time when it is supposedly involved in negotiations with the Palestinian Authority. These policies contradict Israel\u2019s stated interest in negotiating a peace agreement with the Palestinians. Israel\u2019s peace negotiations with the Palestinian Authority and withdrawal from Gaza can therefore only be seen as an effort to distract the international community at a time when human rights violations are taking place in the occupied territories.<\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

361. Israeli forces surround Palestinian villages in northern West Bank

     12:47 pm 70 Comments

     co-written by: Ahmad Jaradat

     The Israeli army has surrounded and isolated many Palestinian villages in the north part of the West Bank. The destabilizing closures were enforced two days ago in the area spanning between Nablus and Jenin. Four Israeli settlements in this particular area are slated for withdrawal in two weeks. People suspect the closures will remain in effect at least until the deadline for the Israeli withdrawal, particularly on the main roads.

     The Zatara checkpoint, a checkpoint on the major roadway system allowing for transportation between the northern and southern areas of the West Bank, remains closed. For two weeks Palestinians have been unable to reach Ramallah directly, and have resorted to using longer and more difficult alternative routes. These closures have a destabilizing effect on Palestinian livelihood and economy. Israeli forces Israeli forces invaded Palestinian towns south of Hebron, taking into custody 25 Palestinians. They were held and interrogated for three hours. The troops raided four houses during this time. The Israeli army claimed the raids were ordered for the purpose of finding a wanted member of a Palestinian faction group in the area, but the houses belonged to families. The contents of the houses were damaged as a result.

     240 Palestinians in the Ktsiot prison were placed in the isolated area “3″ of the prison last week and are living under dire conditions. The section has not been used since 1994. The prisoners have no electricity or necessary materials. They are not supplied blankets despite the cool temperatures at night in the desert.

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:3,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     co-written by: Ahmad Jaradat<\/b><\/span><\/p>

     The Israeli army has surrounded and isolated many Palestinian villages in the north part of the West Bank. The destabilizing closures were enforced two days ago in the area spanning between Nablus and Jenin. Four Israeli settlements in this particular area are slated for withdrawal in two weeks. People suspect the closures will remain in effect at least until the deadline for the Israeli withdrawal, particularly on the main roads.<\/span><\/p>

     The Zatara checkpoint, a checkpoint on the major roadway system allowing for transportation between the northern and southern areas of the West Bank, remains closed. For two weeks Palestinians have been unable to reach Ramallah directly, and have resorted to using longer and more difficult alternative routes. These closures have a destabilizing effect on Palestinian livelihood and economy. Israeli forces Israeli forces invaded Palestinian towns south of Hebron, taking into custody 25 Palestinians. They were held and interrogated for three hours. The troops raided four houses during this time. The Israeli army claimed the raids were ordered for the purpose of finding a wanted member of a Palestinian faction group in the area, but the houses belonged to families. The contents of the houses were damaged as a result.<\/span><\/p>

     240 Palestinians in the Ktsiot prison were placed in the isolated area \u201c3\u2033 of the prison last week and are living under dire conditions. The section has not been used since 1994. The prisoners have no electricity or necessary materials. They are not supplied blankets despite the cool temperatures at night in the desert. <\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

362. Three homes demolished in West Bank village of Al Hader

     12:45 pm 79 Comments

     July 28, 2005

     Three Palestinian houses were demolished Wednesday morning in the Al-Rukdah neighborhood of Al-Hader, a village near Betlehem. Tens of soldiers entered the area with a bulldozer and demolished three, one-story houses belonging to a local family. The area was closed for the demolition, and journalists were not allowed to enter the ‘military area.’ The demolition is not considered part of an operation against militant groups, but rather as a step in clearing land for the purpose of creating a separation wall. The proposed path of the separation wall will engulf the greater Jerusalem area and its municipalities into Israeli territory. The path of the wall extends significantly into the East Jerusalem and West Bank area that has been occupied by Israel following the 1967 war.

     Four months ago, the Israeli army issued orders to demolish 15 houses in the area. The purpose for these house demolitions, as given under the proposal, was to demolish houses build illegally. Yet it is in the direct path of the proposed separation wall currently under construction, and fits in with a larger effort to include Israeli West Bank settlements within the Israeli side of the wall and cutting off the Palestinian villages. Some of these efforts force Palestinians to relocate entirely for land legally theirs. If this path of the wall is completed in the Al-Hader area, the residential area will be outside of the wall, while their arable land will be on the Israeli side. This land is currently used by Palestinian farmers and is known for its lush grapevines and orchards. Once the wall is built, these farmers will not be able to access their land, and will have no alternative area to cultivate.

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:3,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     July 28, 2005<\/b><\/span><\/p>

     Three Palestinian houses were demolished Wednesday morning in the Al-Rukdah neighborhood of Al-Hader, a village near Betlehem. Tens of soldiers entered the area with a bulldozer and demolished three, one-story houses belonging to a local family. The area was closed for the demolition, and journalists were not allowed to enter the \u2018military area.\u2019 The demolition is not considered part of an operation against militant groups, but rather as a step in clearing land for the purpose of creating a separation wall. The proposed path of the separation wall will engulf the greater Jerusalem area and its municipalities into Israeli territory. The path of the wall extends significantly into the East Jerusalem and West Bank area that has been occupied by Israel following the 1967 war.<\/span><\/p>\n

     Four months ago, the Israeli army issued orders to demolish 15 houses in the area. The purpose for these house demolitions, as given under the proposal, was to demolish houses build illegally. Yet it is in the direct path of the proposed separation wall currently under construction, and fits in with a larger effort to include Israeli West Bank settlements within the Israeli side of the wall and cutting off the Palestinian villages. Some of these efforts force Palestinians to relocate entirely for land legally theirs. If this path of the wall is completed in the Al-Hader area, the residential area will be outside of the wall, while their arable land will be on the Israeli side. This land is currently used by Palestinian farmers and is known for its lush grapevines and orchards. Once the wall is built, these farmers will not be able to access their land, and will have no alternative area to cultivate.<\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

363. New dates for Palestinian local and parliamentary elections

     12:43 pm 87 Comments

     Posted July 26, 2005

     The Palestinian Authority (PA) and Hamas have set a new date for local and parliamentary elections, which were postponed by the PA in light of the Gaza withdrawal. The new dates for local elections are set for September 29th and December 8th. Parliamentary elections are scheduled to take place in late December and early January. The decision follows weeks of tensions and violence between the PA and Hamas. The elections were originally slated for July 17th and the postponement had angered Hamas, which was expected to fair well in the elections. Many in the organization believe the PA postponed the elections out of fear that Fatah, which currently dominates the PA but is seen by many as being corrupt and ineffective, will lose in the elections. This agreement is the first step towards a rapprochement between Hamas and the PA. In recent days, Hamas has reduced the number of Kassam rockets attacks on Israeli settlements. In contrast, Israel continues its effort to arrest and kill members of Palestinian groups in the West Bank and Gaza. On Tuesday morning the Israeli army arrested five Palestinians in the Jenin area and one near Hebron. The charges against them remain unknown. There are no reports of their affiliation with any resistance group. During this time, Israeli forces invaded the West Bank city of Bethlehem, entered a house, and arrested two men. Closures in the West Bank city of Tul Karm remained in place, with many checkpoints stationed around the city. On Monday evening, Israel shelled the city of Rafah in Gaza, damaging electricity lines but causing no casualties.

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:3,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     Posted July 26, 2005<\/p>\n

     The Palestinian Authority (PA) and Hamas have set a new date for local and parliamentary elections, which were postponed by the PA in light of the Gaza withdrawal. The new dates for local elections are set for September 29th and December 8th. Parliamentary elections are scheduled to take place in late December and early January. The decision follows weeks of tensions and violence between the PA and Hamas. The elections were originally slated for July 17th and the postponement had angered Hamas, which was expected to fair well in the elections. Many in the organization believe the PA postponed the elections out of fear that Fatah, which currently dominates the PA but is seen by many as being corrupt and ineffective, will lose in the elections. This agreement is the first step towards a rapprochement between Hamas and the PA. In recent days, Hamas has reduced the number of Kassam rockets attacks on Israeli settlements. In contrast, Israel continues its effort to arrest and kill members of Palestinian groups in the West Bank and Gaza. On Tuesday morning the Israeli army arrested five Palestinians in the Jenin area and one near Hebron. The charges against them remain unknown. There are no reports of their affiliation with any resistance group. During this time, Israeli forces invaded the West Bank city of Bethlehem, entered a house, and arrested two men. Closures in the West Bank city of Tul Karm remained in place, with many checkpoints stationed around the city. On Monday evening, Israel shelled the city of Rafah in Gaza, damaging electricity lines but causing no casualties.<\/p>“,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

364. Israeli forces continue West Bank operations

     12:41 pm Leave a Comment

     July 24, 2005

     co-written by: Ahmad Jaradat 

     Israeli forces continued their operations the West Bank and have imposed a curfew in downtown Hebron. The operations intensified after clashes between the Israeli forces and Palestinians in the area on Friday. The Israeli army has raided and searched many houses in the West Bank. In downtown Hebron, 100 settlers marched against the withdrawal from Gaza. Some settlers threw stones and threatened Palestinians near the mosque. A Palestinian bystander was shot and killed from his injury by the Israeli military operating in Hebron. Palestinian gunmen opened fire on an Israeli military fort, injuring two soldiers. The Israeli military continues to enforce closures throughout the West Bank, preventing Palestinian residents from traveling to work or delivering goods. The closures began last week, and many Palestinians are forced to travel through the mountains in order to reach their destination.

     Palestinian gunmen opened fire on a car at Kissufim, a key entry point into Gaza’s Israeli settlements, and killed two Israeli passengers. Two of the gunmen were chased and killed by Israeli troops. Following the attack, Israeli military planes shelled electricity sources in the Palestinian area of Khan Yunus, causing no injuries, but leaving residents without electricity.

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:3,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     July 24, 2005<\/b><\/p>

     co-written by: Ahmad Jaradat <\/b><\/p>

     Israeli forces continued their operations the West Bank and have imposed a curfew in downtown Hebron. The operations intensified after clashes between the Israeli forces and Palestinians in the area on Friday. The Israeli army has raided and searched many houses in the West Bank. In downtown Hebron, 100 settlers marched against the withdrawal from Gaza. Some settlers threw stones and threatened Palestinians near the mosque. A Palestinian bystander was shot and killed from his injury by the Israeli military operating in Hebron. Palestinian gunmen opened fire on an Israeli military fort, injuring two soldiers. The Israeli military continues to enforce closures throughout the West Bank, preventing Palestinian residents from traveling to work or delivering goods. The closures began last week, and many Palestinians are forced to travel through the mountains in order to reach their destination.<\/p>

     Palestinian gunmen opened fire on a car at Kissufim, a key entry point into Gaza\u2019s Israeli settlements, and killed two Israeli passengers. Two of the gunmen were chased and killed by Israeli troops. Following the attack, Israeli military planes shelled electricity sources in the Palestinian area of Khan Yunus, causing no injuries, but leaving residents without electricity.<\/p>\n”,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

365. Pham Thi Do and her family

     September 20, 2015 12:20 pm Leave a Comment

     As was the case with several of our family visits, we left the family of Nguyen Van Xoan and his wife Pham Thi Do feeling that the burden of Agent Orange falls most heavily on mothers. It’s not that fathers are uninvolved – no-one could be more concerned about his children than Mr Xoan. But mothers seem to feel the anguish more deeply. They give care, but they also need caring for.

     Nguyen Van Xoan is a former veteran. He was poisoned by dioxin after he drank contaminated water while serving in the army in Quang Tri province. He remembers it like this: “I saw a plane drop spray over the forest and saw the forest burning. I covered my face. I drank the water. I thought the water came from the rain. It was fresh and did not seem dangerous.”

     Mr Xoan was invalided out of the army in 1979 because of health problems that seemed minor at the time – headaches, coughs, fatigue. But he did not improve and in 2007 he was certified as an Agent Orange casualty by the Vietnamese government. That year he began to receive compensation of 2 million Dong a month.

     Mr Xoan and his wife Pham Thi Do had their first child soon after the war ended. The child died from “brain damage” which they now assume was linked to Agent Orange. The second child died at birth from a miscarriage. The next two children were born healthy and went on to marry. Their photos hang proudly on the wall.

     Their first child to survive with AO complications, Trung, was born in 1979. Trung enjoyed a normal childhood until his legs began to fail him. Today, the arches under his feet are malformed, and this prevents him from walking properly. When we arrive to visit with the AEPD outreach worker that oversees this family, Trung shows us photos of his father visiting the graves of his friends who fought during the war but did not make it home.

     Tuan the Craftsman

     Trung’s younger brother, Ngyuen Van Tuan, born in 1995, suffers from similar complications, although his legs are more severely malformed than those of his brother. For a while Tuan tried to walk, but as his legs got worse his classmates began to make fun of him. This left his parents with no other choice but to take him out of school. A few months passed and the doctor informed them that Tuan would need a wheelchair for the rest of his life. Tuan and his brother also share the added burden of hemophilia, which Tuan contracted at the age of five.

     Tuan has much to complain about, yet he shows no resentment and has a winning smile. He is proud of his father – veterans in Vietnam are treated like heroes – but he also wanted desperately to stay in school. “I do not blame my father,” he says. “I am proud of him. But I faced many social barriers at school. Students did not play with me. I then developed a problem with one leg and was forced to use a cane. My grandfather used to take me to school. Then my other leg went bad and I had to leave school altogether.” He was 15, and just entering grade 9.

     Undaunted, Tuan turned to handicrafts. Helped by a mentor from the AEPD, who also attends the same self-help group, Tuan learned how to make objects from simple materials that are easily available at the local store.

     Tuan has turned the house into a personal studio, with chopsticks, glue and varnish spread neatly on top of a table. He made a wonderful model of Hue University – the oldest in Vietnam – from hundreds of chopsticks and sold it to the Advocacy Project during our visit. It took three days to make and was his first sale. Quite an occasion! Tuan’s dreams don’t end there. “I want to make web pages so that I can work from home,” he tells Armando. Tuan’s main problem comes from a lack of a computer and internet connection, but he does not expect that to hold him up for long. “I’m already reading about it from books I get from the market,” he added.

     “Tuan has much to complain about, yet he shows no resentment and has a winning smile. He is proud of his father – veterans in Vietnam are treated like heroes – but he also wanted desperately to stay in school. ‘I do not blame my father,’ he says.”

     Luyen

     Tuan’s older sister Luyen is another Agent Orange victim. She was born in 1992 with cerebral palsy. We meet with her on a stormy day as she lies in bed, pressing her nails into her hands and grinding her teeth. This, says her mother Pham Thi Do, is a sign that “the weather is about to change.” At times, Luyen squeezes her nails so hard that they cut her palms. Her parents give her a folded carton to hold in her hands to protect her from further cutting. Mrs Pham welcomes Armando with a smile when he enters Luyen’s room, and she continues to wipe her daughter’s face with a damp cloth.

     Soon after, Mr. Xoan silently peeks into the room. Armando takes his photo and feels like crying. Mr. Xoan seems lost. His wife, in contrast, is totally engaged in caring for her daughter. “Taking care of Luyen is a full time job, 24 hours of the day,” she says. Indeed, for the next few hours we see how close the bond is between mother and daughter. Luyen caresses her mother’s arms and shoulder whenever she can, as if showing her affection and gratitude for the sacrifice made by her mother.

     As Armando looks for anything that will help tell the family story, he notices a photo lying on a desk. The children are shown standing straight and tall, which is very different from the way they are in real life. Armando inquires, and Mrs Pham replies: “A friend of mine took our faces from different photos and photo-shopped them to the bodies.” Perhaps this is the way Mr. Xoan and Mrs. Pham want to remember their family: healthy, looking good and with no sign of the damn herbicide that changed their lives forever.

     Pham Thi Do, at work in the fields

     In one of Armando’s later visits to the family, he finds that neither Mr Xoan, Tuan or Trung are not at home. “They went to Hue for their monthly hemophilia treatment,” says Mrs. Pham. The treatment costs 6 million Dong ($270.6), which is a huge amount, even though 80% is covered by insurance.

     On Armando’s next visit Xoan is at home but the family buffalo is nowhere to be seen. “We had to sell the buffalo to pay for the hemophilia treatment of Tuan and Trung,” says Mr. Xoan. When one considers that this family only receives 5.3 million Dong in AO compensation a month, it is hardly surprising that they are constantly selling assets to cover the medical bills.

     Pham Thi Do’s work day begins at 5.00 am in the fields

     By this time, Tuan has returned from the treatment in Hue. Luyen, as always, is lying on her bed in the darkened room. But this time Mrs. Pham and Trung are not to be seen. “My son, Trung, is still in Hue because he wasn’t doing so well when he was first seen by the Doctor. My wife is out in the fields harvesting the rice” says Mr. Xoan.

     We notice rice seeds scattered all over the floor. It had been harvested the day before. Harvesting happens twice during the year and Armando had been hoping to take video footage of rice paddy, so Mr. Xoan agrees to take him out to meet his wife in the fields.

     Up to now we have seen Mrs. Pham as a caregiver, mother and wife, but here she is in another demanding role. Her day started at 5 am and she has been out in the sun ever since, working the fields as if there was no tomorrow. We all go back to the house and Mrs. Pham immediately begins caring for her daughter Luyen. Armando is amazed at her strength.

     Trung in hospital

     Mrs. Pham explains that Trung is still in the hospital in Hue. Most of the AO families we meet are indoors because of their limited mobility, but here is a chance to meet a family member away from the home. Armando asks if he can visit Trung at the Hospital in Hue, which lies three hours from Dong Hoi. The family agrees and off they go. Trung looks healthier because of the blood transfusions he had been receiving, but is also worried.

     “There’s a shortage of blood at the hospital so I might not get one for a few days,” he says. Indeed, when Armando asks the Doctor when Trung will get his next transfusion, he is told that no one knows because the availability of resources is so unpredictable. Armando then remembers something that Tuan, Trung’s younger brother, had said at the house: “During the week I was in the hospital, I saw three people who died.” Apparently this is quite common. After some back and forth Armando is told that Trung would not be getting any transfusions over the weekend. Armando had no option but to leave, hoping for the best.

     Armando returned later to Mr. Xoan’s house to say one last goodbye. It turned out to be a very emotional exchange. “This family will forever stay in my heart,” wrote Armando later. “I know that Linh, my interpreter and co-worker, feels the same. I hope we meet again soon.”

366. Le Thanh Duc, Ho Thi Hong, and their three daughters

     September 15, 2015 12:19 pm Leave a Comment

     Le Thanh Duc meets with us in the same room where he met with Kelly Howell in 2013. His three daughters are lying on the same large bed that they lay on two years ago, and seem bathed in the same colors and afternoon light. They are now aged 30, 27 and 29. They interrupt our talk with short barks and moans.

     Mr. Duc and his wife Ho Thi Hong have suffered another tragedy since they met with Kelly. Their youngest son died in 2014 at the age of 18 in a car accident. He had been spared Agent Orange and the irony was striking. Everyone was so nervous when Mr. Duc’s oldest son joined the army that AEPD even asked the authorities to keep an eye out for him.

     The loss of her son has further unnerved Mr. Duc’s wife, who has never come to terms with the illness of their three daughters. Linh, our translator, says she is “shocked, depressed and sad – not at all normal.” Mrs. Hong appears midway through our discussion and bursts into tears when we produce a print-out from the AP website which carries a photo of her daughters.

     The problem is that she is also a primary caregiver in this damaged family. Unlike other families, where the mother is strong, Mrs. Hong clearly needs care herself.

     Luckily, it is not all bad. In a reversal of roles, her husband is upbeat and optimistic. Since he met with Kelly in 2013, Mr. Duc has used a loan from AEPD to launch a new business to make fish sauce. He also appeared on television on December 3, 2014, to celebrate International Disability Day. This turned him into a celebrity and he tells us with pride that a company in Hanoi donated 100 million Dong to disability causes after seeing him on television. “I like to raise awareness!” he says through Linh.

     Mr. Duc is bursting to give us a tour of his business, which he runs with his sister, and he takes us down the path to a shed where it all happens. Oblivious to the smell, he tells us that AEPD loaned him 17 million Dong (through Irish Aid) in 2013, which he used to buy ten large pots and other equipment. Each year he borrows 10 million Dong to buy anchovies, which he stores in the pots for several months. It normally costs about 12 million Dong to fill the pots, but it cost almost double in 2014 because of the storms, which the Vietnamese put down to climate change. After a year of stewing, the fish sauce is ripe, ready and very strong. It is also very popular in restaurants.

     Mr. Duc earns 3.4 million Dong from selling fish. In addition, he receives 9 million Dong a month from the government for the Agent Orange sickness suffered by his daughters, himself and his wife. This may seem like a lot, but his expenses are considerable: 1 million Dong to pay for home care and several million Dong a month to pay for electricity and the repayment on his bank loan. It does not leave much. And as Armando points out, his fish business depends on the whims of Mother Nature.

     Mr. Duc is undaunted. He wants to buy more pots and open a store. He also wants to put photos on the walls of his house, which are bare. His enthusiasm is infectious – and unexpected.

367. Mai Thi Loi and her three sons 2015

     September 10, 2015 12:20 pm Leave a Comment

     We are not prepared for what we find at the home of Mai Thi Loi, the widow of a war veteran who lives in the Tuyen Hoa ward of Quang Trach district.

     We have come with Tuan, an experienced AEPD outreach worker, and with a local government official from the district. Tuan is responsible for three of the seven wards in the district and he estimates that there may be about 170 AO victims in this ward alone. Tuan has come to meet new families and see if they would like to form a self-help group for AO survivors. He has heard that Mrs. Loi is living in a remote area and has serious needs. Outreach workers like Mr. Tuan play a critically important role as advocates for AO families, and intermediaries with the government.

     Mrs. Loi’s husband, Nguyen Van Tri, was born in 1958 and served in the army between 1972 and 1976. No one knows how or when he was exposed to Agent Orange, but when he left the military he was already suffering from many of the familiar symptoms, including loss of memory and a violent temper that led him to beat his wife on more than one occasion. He was certified as an Agent Orange victim before he died in 1989 and awarded 790,000 Vietnamese Dong a month in compensation.

     Mrs. Loi’s first two children were born without any symptoms of dioxin poisoning, and both are happily married. But their three younger brothers have all been seriously affected.

     Nguyen Van Hung, the youngest boy, managed two years in first grade until it became clear that he lacked the cognitive ability to cope. Today he helps out with household chores under the watchful eye of his mother, although today he is out somewhere in the neighborhood. His older brother Cuong, 29, has a “small problem with his brain,” says our translator. He never went to school. He sits on a bench smiling amiably.

     Shocking Encounter

     Our encounter with Mrs. Loi’s third and oldest son, Nguyen Van Kien, 31, comes as a complete shock. Neighbors have come to meet our delegation and two of them steer us to towards the darkened room, where we perceive a naked figure chained to the wall. This is Kien. He shouts when he sees us and we back away. Mrs. Loi tells our translator Linh that her son used to wander around when he was a child but began to break things when he grew stronger. It became too much and she was forced to chain him to prevent him from destroying the house. He is naked because he rips off his clothes. He has been confined in this room since the age of 13 and is “getting worse by the day,” says his mother, close to tears.

     Tuan the outreach worker and the government agent seem to take this in their stride. But our translator, Linh, is upset and our hearts go out to Mrs. Loi. “The mother is hurt at having to chain up her son. Mothers are the strongest people in the world,” says Linh.

     We ask the government worker how it is possible for this man to be chained up in the dark. Is there no alternative? She explains that the nearest mental hospital is in the city of Hue, but that even if Kien were admitted, Mrs. Loi would still have to visit him and provide him with food and care. That would mean endless traveling to Hue, which she cannot afford. It would also mean surrendering her son to others.

     “If he leaves, I won’t ever see him since I don’t have the money to travel,” says Mrs. Loi. So she remains torn between her love for her son and fear at his rages, unable to treat his condition with anything other than the occasional tranquilizer. This case, like no other, brings home the impact of Agent Orange on victims and their aging, overwhelmed, parents.

     The Pressure of Poverty

     Mrs. Loi has to make do somehow, and she is a hard worker with a support system in the village. She owns some pigs and farms some rice paddy which produces 30 kilos of rice twice a year. She also receives 790,000 Dong in government compensation for each of her three sons every month. Until recently, she also received 360,000 Dong as a caregiver, but that was discontinued. She appealed to the authorities but has not received an answer. The government also gives her 30,000 Dong a month to cover electricity bills. Finally, she is supported by her neighbors, who watch over her children when she has to visit the doctor and help to cover the bills. She is deeply grateful.

     ‘Mrs. Loi remains torn between her love for her son and fear at his rages.’

     But none of this is enough. Once a month, she takes the two younger sons to the Dong Le hospital, 37 kilometers away, for a check-up. The treatment is free but the transport costs 600,000 Dong per trip.

     We have two final issues to overcome before we leave this damaged family. We would like to leave Mrs. Loi some money but are told by the AEPD outreach worker that this would create expectations among other families and make AEPD’s job harder. So we reluctantly put our money away.

     We also wonder how we can capture the true impact of this family’s crisis through photos – Armando’s great skill – without exploiting the terrible image of the chained and naked man. We talk this through with the AEPD team. Iain takes some photos of Mrs. Loi and Kien from a distance, and it is agreed that Armando will return to conduct a video interview.

     By the time of Armando’s second visit, Mrs. Loi is at ease with Armando and his camera. Armando is able to produce some memorable images that make the point without demeaning his subject.

368. Le Van Dung, Dang Thi Miet, and their 12 missing children

     August 31, 2015 12:22 pm Leave a Comment

     Le Van Dung and his wife Dang Thi Miet have produced thirteen children and buried twelve of them. It’s hard to imagine how one survives such an experience, but they welcome us into their home with warmth and gratitude. Mrs Miet seems exhausted, but has a winning smile. Her husband wears his VAWA badge and his veteran’s red star with pride. This couple has not been demeaned by their loss.

     We visit their spacious house (which was built and financed by a grant from the provincial Ministry of Labour, Invalids and Social Affairs (MOLISA)) with Tran Van Luan, an AEPD outreach worker. According to Mr Luan, 24 Agent Orange victims are living in this ward. AEPD only started working with the family 6 months ago, and has yet to involve them in any activities.

     Mr. Dung and Mrs Miet both served in the military during the war. Mr Dung fought, while his wife worked on roads. Mr. Dung was exposed to Agent Orange in Quang Tri province when US forces sprayed the area where he was stationed, leaving the forest burning and Mr Dung gasping for air.

     Of the couple’s thirteen children, twelve died in the first few weeks. The longest that any of the twelve lived was 8 months and they remember hoping against hope that she would survive. Sadly, it was not to be. “When the baby fell ill we took her to the hospital. The doctor could not save her. She had many symptoms. Her limbs grew smaller all the time.”

     “When the baby fell ill we took her to the hospital. The doctor could not save her. She had many symptoms. Her limbs grew smaller all the time.”

     Le Thi Ngoc Thuy, the daughter who survived, was born in 1979. She has suffered from a bad memory, depression and headaches ever since and seems quiet and withdrawn. She had two children by her husband, but he left her. Mrs Thuy receives 700,000 Dong a month in compensation and earns a small income from cutting grass.

     Of Mrs Thuy’s two children, one is free from dioxin poisoning – at least for now. The second child, Le Thi Phuong Thao is full of spirit and moves restlessly from lap to lap as her grandparents talk to their strange visitors. Le Thi Phuong Thao is in the first grade at school and seems smart and curious, but her teacher says she has a bad memory and a grade point average of around 6 out of 10. Her eyes are an even bigger problem. Le Thi Phuong Thao’s eyesight has been deteriorating steadily since she was born and is now functioning at around 70%. She goes to Hanoi every six months for a check-up and new glasses. But she cannot have surgery until she reaches the age of eighteen, so she is in a race against time.

     The family assumes that Le Thi Phuong Thao’s medical issues were caused by dioxin, and she is listed as a victim of Agent Orange by MOLYSA, the government ministry. In spite of this, the family gets no money for Le Thi Phuong Thao because government compensation does not extend to the third generation.

     We meet one other member of this family whose life has been ruined by Agent Orange. Le Minh Duc, 12, is the son of Mr Dung’s younger brother, now deceased. Duc is in a wheelchair was certified by the government as an Agent Orange victim in 2012. His leg was operated on three months ago. He seems extraordinarily frail.

     As with the other Agent Orange families we met, the Dung family is struggling to pay the bills. Mr Dung and his wife each receive 1.9 million Dong a month. Their daughter receives 700,000 Dong, and their nephew Duc receives 600,000 Dong. But it costs 5 million Dong each time they take Le Thi Phuong Thao to Hanoi for her medical check-up every six months.

     AEPD is helping to identify options. The family is a member of a local AEPD self-help group and Mr Dung appreciate the company: “I like to sing together and meet other members. They have raised funds to help us.” They are also thinking of how to earn a living. Le Thi Ngoc Thuy, the daughter, dreams of buying a sugar cane machine which will allow her to press the cane and make a popular local drink that she could sell outside schools. There is also plenty of rich farming and available in the area. A buffalo would certainly help, says Mr Dung.

369. Tran Thi Thao, Ngo Gia Hue, and their three daughters

     August 26, 2015 8:26 pm Leave a Comment

     “All she can do is sleep and eat”

     Ngo Gia Hue joined the Vietnamese army in 1975, the last year of the war. Efforts were already underway to clean up Agent Orange and Mr. Hue remembers moving “colorful boxes” at Da Nang airport shortly after the American forces had withdrawn. He also remembers seeing liquid leaking from the sides. He began to experience the AO symptoms – headaches and back-aches – after he left the military and returned home.

     Mr. Hue lives today with his wife Tran Thi Thao and six children in the ward of Phong Hoa, one of seventeen wards in Tuyen Hoa district. The village is a long drive from Dong Hoi through spectacular mountain scenery that looks in places like the floating mountains from the movie Avatar. The Hue family house is large and leafy. Several dogs are sharing the courtyard with a long hammock and three motorcycles. One belongs to Ngi Thi Thuy, who guided our car in through the village.

     This is new territory for AEPD. AEPD has established 37 self-help clubs throughout Quang Binh, but none are in this district. However, the needs are great. In this ward alone, 160 people receive government support for a disability and 30 are registered as affected by AO. AEPD has sent one of its most experience outreach workers, Mr. Hoc, who himself suffered a severe leg wound in the war, to investigate. Mr. Hoc has responsibility for seven wards in this district.

     When Ngo Gia Hue first started suffering from headaches and pain, Agent Orange was largely unknown. It was not until he left the army and started a family that he felt the full weight of dioxin poisoning. Ngi Thi Thuy, 35, the first child and oldest son, was born without symptoms and is married with two children. Ngo Thanh Trung, 32, their second child, was also spared and has two children.

     Ngo Thi Huong

     Ngo Thi Huong, 31, the third daughter, was weak from the time she was born. By the age of 14, Huong could not walk and today she uses a wheelchair, provided by the Red Cross. Huong is sprawled out in the hammock when we arrive and barely moves during our visit. Not only is it difficult for her to talk, but she has trouble remembering. “My daughter was checked out by many doctors,” says Mr. Hue. “We took her to the hospital several times, but they could not help.” Eventually, in 2003, a doctor diagnosed dioxin poisoning.

     Mr. Hue began receiving 1.2 million Dong a month for his daughter Thi Huong in 2003. The misfortunes began to pile up. A fourth daughter died at the age of 18 months. Happily, a fifth child was born without symptoms and married.

      Ngo Thi Than Nhan

     The couple’s next child, Ngo Thi Than Nhan, was severely disabled from the beginning. Nhan, now 24, has never spoken and is able to do little except eat and sleep. She cannot even use a toilet. Her bowel movements are irregular and this poses a challenge for her parents who help her by pumping water into her rectum. Nhan – a tiny figure – lies on the bed in the recesses of the house while her mother feeds her.

     Many of the AO victims like Nhan seem to live in the shadows. Armando and I feel a strong need to capture the image. AEPD has encouraged us to take photos, well aware of their power. The families all understand this. Still, we must take care not to demean our subjects and remember that they are people, not images, no matter what the camera says.

     Mrs. Thao invites Iain to sit on the bed, and he accepts. Someone takes a photo. Feeding Nhan is an act of intimacy and communication as it is between any mother and child. Nhan brushes away the food when it is offered on a spoon, but Mrs. Thao perseveres and eventually, Nhan eats, every fourth or fifth time as her mother strokes her cropped head. Mrs. Thao’s oldest daughter skips up and then leaves. We are told that Nhan reacts to the presence of her sisters and likes it when they play with her.

     The couple’s seventh child, Ngo Thi Toan, now 18, has also been severely affected by Agent Orange. Toan is very small, like her two older sisters, and speaks very slowly. She sits in a chair on the deck and reaches out for my hand almost absentmindedly. Her fingers snake in and out of mine, and she sits quietly as we interview her parents. “She understands, but she has a short memory,” says her father.

     In Need of Money

     Ngo Gia Hue and Tran Thi Thao lived with his family until the Red Cross built the house they now occupy. The government provided them with 1,500 square meters of land in 1989 and this land is now their main source of income apart from the compensation they receive from the government for Mr. Hue (1.6 million Dong) and his three affected daughters.

     The family produces rice and a buffalo would greatly increase their productivity and income. Buffaloes cost 25 million Dong and it takes about two years for the animals to produce offspring that can be sold (for 17 million Dong). But in the meantime, Mr. Thuy could use the buffalo to work his fields or rent the buffalo out to other small farmers. He would use the additional income to build a better toilet and repair the roof. He would also like to see whether an operation might help his daughter Nanh to control her bodily functions.

     While a buffalo would ease the pressure, it would not also solve the challenge of coping with three seriously disabled daughters. Mr. Hue dreams of sending his daughters to school and he has tried to register them many times but without success. Their prospects are not improving.

     Meanwhile, his wife is left with the full-time job of caring for the girls. There always has to be one adult on hand, around the clock. Given this, Mr. Hue is deeply interested in AEPD’s plan for a community group in the ward. “I would like to join,” he says. “We could share information and learn a lot.” But he also knows it will not be easy. Two of his daughters have attended self-help clubs in the past, but the cost of transport was high and the girls needed constant attention. Mr. Hue and his wife and more than willing to try again.

370. Tran Thi Thao 2015

     August 20, 2015 12:23 pm Leave a Comment

     Ngo Gia Hue joined the Vietnamese army in 1975, the last year of the war. Efforts were already underway to clean up Agent Orange and Mr. Hue remembers moving “colorful boxes” at Da Nang airport shortly after the American forces had withdrawn. He also remembers seeing liquid leaking from the sides. He began to experience the AO symptoms – headaches and back-aches – after he left the military and returned home.

     Mr. Hue lives today with his wife Tran Thi Thao and six children in the ward of Phong Hoa, one of seventeen wards in Tuyen Hoa district. The village is a long drive from Dong Hoi through spectacular mountain scenery that looks in places like the floating mountains from the movie Avatar. The Hue family house is large and leafy. Several dogs are sharing the courtyard with a long hammock and three motorcycles. One belongs to Ngi Thi Thuy, who guided our car in through the village.

     This is new territory for AEPD. AEPD has established 37 self-help clubs throughout Quang Binh, but none are in this district. However, the needs are great. In this ward alone, 160 people receive government support for a disability and 30 are registered as affected by AO. AEPD has sent one of its most experience outreach workers, Mr. Hoc, who himself suffered a severe leg wound in the war, to investigate. Mr. Hoc has responsibility for seven wards in this district.

     When Ngo Gia Hue first started suffering from headaches and pain, Agent Orange was largely unknown. It was not until he left the army and started a family that he felt the full weight of dioxin poisoning. Ngi Thi Thuy, 35, the first child and oldest son, was born without symptoms and is married with two children. Ngo Thanh Trung, 32, their second child, was also spared and has two children.

     Ngo Thi Huong

     Ngo Thi Huong, 31, the third daughter, was weak from the time she was born. By the age of 14, Huong could not walk and today she uses a wheelchair, provided by the Red Cross. Huong is sprawled out in the hammock when we arrive and barely moves during our visit. Not only is it difficult for her to talk, but she has trouble remembering. “My daughter was checked out by many doctors,” says Mr. Hue. “We took her to the hospital several times, but they could not help.” Eventually, in 2003, a doctor diagnosed dioxin poisoning.

     Mr. Hue began receiving 1.2 million Dong a month for his daughter Thi Huong in 2003. The misfortunes began to pile up. A fourth daughter died at the age of 18 months. Happily, a fifth child was born without symptoms and married.

      Ngo Thi Than Nhan

     The couple’s next child, Ngo Thi Than Nhan, was severely disabled from the beginning. Nhan, now 24, has never spoken and is able to do little except eat and sleep. She cannot even use a toilet. Her bowel movements are irregular and this poses a challenge for her parents who help her by pumping water into her rectum. Nhan – a tiny figure – lies on the bed in the recesses of the house while her mother feeds her.

     Many of the AO victims like Nhan seem to live in the shadows. Armando and I feel a strong need to capture the image. AEPD has encouraged us to take photos, well aware of their power. The families all understand this. Still, we must take care not to demean our subjects and remember that they are people, not images, no matter what the camera says.

     Mrs. Thao invites Iain to sit on the bed, and he accepts. Someone takes a photo. Feeding Nhan is an act of intimacy and communication as it is between any mother and child. Nhan brushes away the food when it is offered on a spoon, but Mrs. Thao perseveres and eventually, Nhan eats, every fourth or fifth time as her mother strokes her cropped head. Mrs. Thao’s oldest daughter skips up and then leaves. We are told that Nhan reacts to the presence of her sisters and likes it when they play with her.

     The couple’s seventh child, Ngo Thi Toan, now 18, has also been severely affected by Agent Orange. Toan is very small, like her two older sisters, and speaks very slowly. She sits in a chair on the deck and reaches out for my hand almost absentmindedly. Her fingers snake in and out of mine, and she sits quietly as we interview her parents. “She understands, but she has a short memory,” says her father.

     In Need of Money

     Ngo Gia Hue and Tran Thi Thao lived with his family until the Red Cross built the house they now occupy. The government provided them with 1,500 square meters of land in 1989 and this land is now their main source of income apart from the compensation they receive from the government for Mr. Hue (1.6 million Dong) and his three affected daughters.

     The family produces rice and a buffalo would greatly increase their productivity and income. Buffaloes cost 25 million Dong and it takes about two years for the animals to produce offspring that can be sold (for 17 million Dong). But in the meantime, Mr. Thuy could use the buffalo to work his fields or rent the buffalo out to other small farmers. He would use the additional income to build a better toilet and repair the roof. He would also like to see whether an operation might help his daughter Nanh to control her bodily functions.

     While a buffalo would ease the pressure, it would not also solve the challenge of coping with three seriously disabled daughters. Mr. Hue dreams of sending his daughters to school and he has tried to register them many times but without success. Their prospects are not improving.

     Meanwhile, his wife is left with the full-time job of caring for the girls. There always has to be one adult on hand, around the clock. Given this, Mr. Hue is deeply interested in AEPD’s plan for a community group in the ward. “I would like to join,” he says. “We could share information and learn a lot.” But he also knows it will not be easy. Two of his daughters have attended self-help clubs in the past, but the cost of transport was high and the girls needed constant attention. Mr. Hue and his wife and more than willing to try again.

371. June 4, 2015 12:28 pm 90 Comments

372. Concluding Thoughts

     January 11, 2015 4:45 pm Leave a Comment

     It’s bittersweet to sit down and write what will be the final blog of my fellowship. It has been an incredible learning experience for me and has left me with many friends with which I have shared many difficult and exciting experiences all over Peru. I feel like we have accomplished much and I look forward to seeing all that they will do in the future.

     As I reflect back on my time in Peru it’s important to remember that there is more work yet to be done and that this is by no means the end of my work in Peru or with EPAF and AP. During my journey back to the U.S., I had the pleasure to accompany 38 handmade quilt squares made by the people of Sacsamarca. Yesterday, we sent all 38 of our quilt squares from Sacsamarca to a group of quilters in New Jersey who will begin the process of turning the hard work of these past few months into an advocacy quilt (or maybe more than one) that we will use to exhibit and display in the U.S. and Peru. We are very hopeful for this quilt and excited to see the final product of many months of effort and travel.

     I also want to take this opportunity to say thank you to EPAF and The Advocacy Project for giving me the opportunity to participate in these efforts with them and assist in their tireless work for human rights and to provide a voice for the voiceless. I wish them all the best going forward and know that those on whose behalf they work are in the best of hands. Their work should serve as an inspiration to all those fighting against forced disappearance and for human rights around the world. Thank you to everyone who has followed, read and commented on this blog as well. I appreciate it more than you know and I hope the stories were able to shed some light on Peru, EPAF and the search for The Disappeared.

     Please visit https://www.advocacynet.org/ to stay updated on news of the Peruvian quilt and EPAF as well as the rest of Advocacy Project’s global work.

     Thank you.

373. NESPEC CELEBRATES AND EDUCATES ABOUT HUMAN RIGHTS

     December 31, 2014 3:48 am 89 Comments

     NESPEC (Nepal Social Development and People’s Empowerment Center) is a human rights organization at the core and takes advantage of any opportunity to help the people of Nepal learn about human rights. Thus as Universal Children’s Day approached, they geared up to hold a major event. Extending my final stay in Gaighat a few days longer than expected allowed me to participate.

     Instead of participating in a “fluffy” and centralized district headquarter program, NESPEC wanted to use the opportunity to reach as many people as possible at the grassroots level and took their event out of the more developed district headquarters and into the surrounding villages. The program was held in the centrally located village of Harrdiya, and was attended by children from 3 other the neighboring villages that NESPEC transported in via tractor and jeep so they could participate and be honored.

     Children from the villages

     

     The plan for the day was to have a rally, hold a program with inspiring speeches, and present school supplies and uniforms to some of the neediest children from each village. The event was coordinated using the school and community based “Child Clubs” that NESPEC had previously established throughout the 4 villages. These clubs are run by child-only boards supported by an adult sponsor, build leadership in students, and provide enrichment activities ranging from chess, to cultural performances, to sports, to conflict resolution. They also serve as a point of contact to provide support directly to the children, their families, and their communities.

     Even though I knew the overall plan for the day, it turned out to be unlike anything I could have anticipated. In the morning all the organization’s staff and most of the volunteers, in addition to the local reporters who had just been briefed, totaling around 30, piled into (and on top of!) a rented jeep to make the hour-long trek to Harridya. Once there we took over a grass-covered space in the middle of the village and began setting it up. While we moved logs, set up a few chairs, hung a banner, and did a sound check with the bullhorn, groups of children started arriving.

     They emerged out of the dust

     

     All of a sudden there was the sound of chanting and clapping off in the distance and organized chaos ensued. A local Harridya school emerged from a cloud of dust generated by their stamping feet and teachers of students from the surrounding villages quickly organized their classes into marching units to fall in line. The result was an inspiring 45 minute march throughout the village of Harrdiya with children chanting and carrying a variety of signs with inspirational slogans in English and Nepali.

     The last vehicles full of children from the neighboring villages joined in somewhere en route, and upon returning to the clearing and settling everyone down, a program for apx. 450 children began. Following speeches by local leaders and human rights activists was the climax of the event.

     The attentive audience

     

     Forty of the neediest and most deserving children from the 4 villages, coincidently mainly coming from marginalized, oppressed, and indigenous groups were presented with 2 sets of uniform clothes and school supplies. Of particular note to me, as a former teacher, was that these children had been selected to be honored by the child-run boards of each of the Child Clubs. The Child Clubs in turn were given a large bag full of sports equipment and educational goods to support their ongoing activities. The program was concluded with a speech by 13 year old 8th grader, Gita Kumari Khadka, who was the designated Chairwoman of the program.

     Madam Chairwoman

     

     After it all was over the feedback received from the press was unanimously positive. They commended NESPEC for running a truly innovative and meaningful program in the spirit of Universal Children’s Day – and particularly for taking on and successfully tackling the challenges involved in holding a program in the villages, away from the amenities and ease provided by the District center.

     As for me, I had never before heard of Universal Children’s Day, and I can guarantee that I will never again forget it!

     “Insipring Nepal’s Future Leaders”

     

     If you would like to support a new initiative for empowering women being launched by this great organization please follow this link to learn about the program and make a tax-deductible donation:http://www.change.org/nonprofit_page/nonprofit_projects/54285?project_id=26636

374. A Family Bound by Bricks

     December 15, 2014 9:01 am 1 Comment

     Janak Shrestha, his wife Gurans, and their six-year-old son have traveled from Kavre, Banepa to Bhaktapur to work for Brahmayam Mahabir to make bricks for the next six months. The Shrestha family innocently took a 20,000 rupee ($200 USD) advance from a middleman five months ago. Like thousands of families throughout Nepal, Janak gave in to the lure of debt bondage, unaware of the harsh, desolate life that faced not only him, but his entire family. For a half year he will labor from sun up until sun down molding clay into bricks.

     

     The Shrestha Family

     Janak takes a few moments to speak with me as he has a 1,000 brick quota for the day if he is to pay off his debt. His hands and feet crusted thick with clay, he says this is the first year working at the brick kilns. Janak’s usual job is in construction but lack of work left him no other options.

     He must get back to work but says we can speak to his wife and he points to the family home behind the many rows of drying bricks he has made so far today. Their one bedroom hut made of mud, bricks, and tin is about four feet tall. The only one who can stand up inside is Bikalpa, their son. On the floor lays a gas stove and a small mattress, and you can learn what is the best mattress in a box for this purpose. The employer charges the family 3,000 rupees ($30 USD) a week for rent, a hefty amount from their already small earnings only increasing the weight of their debt.

     Gurans sits on an upside down pail cooking noodles over the gas stove and explains that life at the brick kiln is difficult. There are approximately 65 families – 550 people, around 200 of them are children – all sharing one outdoor shower and a toilet facility located behind the office of the kiln. With the smoke, dust-filled air and their home surrounded by ditches filled with water to make the clay Gurans worries immensely for her son’s health and safety. She then looks around and points to the floor and walls made of bricks with large gaps between them – it is impossible to stay warm in here.

     

     Gurans preparing lunch in their home

     When asked if they will return to work and live at the brick kilns next year Gurans quickly replied, “No!” then paused for a moment and said, “life is very difficult but what else to do?”, they can’t do anything but you can help us we ability a special spot on our site hipvpn.com.

     Janak works 6:00 am to 6:00 pm making 70 paisa per brick, the equivalent of 70 cents. Because of the heavy advance, the Shrestha family will likely be bound by the debt bondage for the next year and will again have to live and work in the brick kilns. Once again Bikalpa will miss out on school, childhood, and chances are perpetuate a life bound by poverty.

     But Gurans is hopeful and says with a wishful smile, she hopes for her son a brighter future – a good education -so he does not have to do this kind of work. Bikalpa usually attends school in their village but has now been out of school for a month.

     The vicious cycle of debt bondage forces employees to pick up their families and migrate to work in brick kilns year and year again – it is their children that pay the heaviest price, their education, childhood, and future, with your help we can change the future of this kids, please visit our blog on infantcore for more info.

     

     Gurans and her six year old son Bikalpa

375. SIDDIPUR PART I: THE IMPORTANCE OF LAND RIGHTS

     November 20, 2014 3:51 am 24 Comments

     I had an amazing opportunity to join my friends from NESPEC as they traveled for a few days to the village of Siddipur, a relatively remote village situated at the base of the Himalayan foothills. The purpose of the trip was for NESPEC’s president Arjun, Project Coordinator Ajaya, and Social Mobilizers Regana and Sundar to do some initial work for a new project on Food Security and Land Rights they are implementing through a partnership with ActionAid.

     Siddipur Market

     

     The village of Siddipur, contains 603 households, is centered around a small strip of shops called the “market,” and sparsely fans out from there. The people we encountered were warm, welcoming, and reacted very fondly to the delegation from NESPEC who had implemented a “safe-drinking water” program there several years before and is one of the few NGOs or governmental organizations that has made an effort to reach out to the isolated community. In addition to their general gratitude for the commitment of the members of NESPEC, the people of Siddipur exemplified the hospitality that Nepalis are famous for.

     Distance-wise Siddipur is not that far from the district headquarter in Gaighat, but due to the challenges of travel and communication it is quite isolated. Though the distance is only 30 miles by road, the fastest time by bus is 5 hours to the nearest town followed by an hour long walk over gravel pits and through a river. If you are willing to travel off road on a motorcycle you can make it in 3 hours, but you have to cross a major tributary without the aid of a bridge. Once in Siddipur, there is no electricity and phone contact is through a combination mobile and short-wave system dish systems. As a result of these difficulties, there are few development projects implemented in Siddipur by governmental offices or NGOs. It is for this reason that NESPEC chose the village as one of the sites for their new program.

     Here’s how you cross a river on a motorcycle without a bridge

     

     The right to own land is a very fundamental issue in Nepal, and intimately connected with food security as the majority of Nepal’s population survives on subsistence agriculture. Farmers grow products that are diverse as possible, eating whatever is in season, and selling the excess to make money to pay for other household essentials. As a result of the subsistence way of life there is still an established barter system in parts of Nepal and it is not uncommon for people outside of the major cities to pay for services they have received with produce, grains, or small animals.

     If one does not own land on which to produce, the options are to “lease” land to cultivate or to work as a day laborer on another’s land (usually getting paid with a percentage of the crop produced as opposed to cash). Such arrangements are feudal-like in nature and have enormous potential for mostly better educated and higher caste land owners to take advantage of poorer, less educated, and often lower caste workers.

     Of the landless farmers Buttia are the best off, having a lease arrangement that they cultivate the land as they like and later pay 50% of the crop to the land owner. Haliya, are mere laborers who can be paid in crops or in rupees, as decided as the landlord and often have arrangements that can be as skewed by as much as 95% for the landlord and only 5% for the farmer. As such, the poor, lower caste, and indigenous landless farmers must work at least twice as hard as landowners (in the best scenario) to feed their families, let alone generate income from the excess they may produce. Thus, in working to alleviate the poverty pervading Nepal it is essential to address the issue of land rights for the ultra poor.

376. Changing Seasons, the Brick Kilns Begin

     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

      

377. Somaliland

     November 12, 2014 11:42 am Leave a Comment

     EPAF is currently accepting applications for its Somaliland Field School next year. The Field School will be held from March 16th to April 12th, 2015. I’ve already written a great deal about the Peru Field School and I’d like to use this blog post to highlight the Somaliland Field School and the work we have there.

     Historically, Somaliland was a part of the former Republic of Somalia. For 21 years until his fall, the former leader of the Republic of Somalia, Mohammed Siad Barre, carried out massacres against the people of Somaliland. Around 60,000 civilians were killed and thousands were victims of forced disappearance before a declaration of independence by Somaliland, in 1991. Since its independence, Somaliland has managed to secure the political stability, economic and social development needed to investigate the atrocities committed in the past through a War Crimes Investigation Commission (WCIC) of 6 members. As a result of this, EPAF engages with the local government of Somaliland and the WCIC to assist in the investigation of these crimes.

     The Somaliland Field School focuses on integrating EPAF’s rights based model with the technical work of forensic anthropology. Hands on transitional justice and the combination of memory with prosecution make up the context of this school. In this field school, students experience a more scientific approach with ante mortem data collection, analysis of remains and interaction with state officials during the course of performing exhumations. By working in tandem with EPAF staff, students witness how EPAF conducts exhumations with that could lead to evidence being used in prosecutions. The field school in Somaliland also includes other transitional measures based on EPAF’s model including dignifying the dead, symbolic reparations and memorialization work that includes the planning of monuments to the victims. EPAF’s work in Somaliland also provides students the unique opportunity to assist in EPAF’s ongoing program of South-South cooperation and to see how transitional justice work is performed with in a context where the government has chosen to deal with the past and address the post-conflict scars in its society.

     The excursion into the field in Somaliland will help to determine the amount of missing people through a systematic approach, ante mortem data collection and research of mass graves. Also, the Field School will assist in training the staff of the WCIC in the forensic investigation of human rights violations and war crimes. At the completion of the course, the participants will have a deeper understanding of the application of forensic sciences in the investigation of human rights violations, as well as the process involved in the examination, recovery and analysis of mass graves.

     EPAF is continuing to share its expertise around the world and the Somaliland Field School is another example of this. EPAF’s current work in Brazil, Ecuador, and Mexico, among other countries, is assisting the development of new forensic teams and further advancing the vision of South-South cooperation that EPAF carries in its work. The field schools in Peru and Somaliland represent the cutting edge of EPAF’s work and the great work it continues to do here and around the world.
     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:”1″,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:” EPAF is currently accepting applications for its Somaliland Field School next year. The Field School will be held from March 16th to April 12th, 2015. I\u2019ve already written a great deal about the Peru Field School and I\u2019d like to use this blog post to highlight the Somaliland Field School and the work we have there.\r\n\r\n Historically, Somaliland was a part of the former Republic of Somalia. For 21 years until his fall, the former leader of the Republic of Somalia, Mohammed Siad Barre, carried out massacres against the people of Somaliland. Around 60,000 civilians were killed and thousands were victims of forced disappearance before a declaration of independence by Somaliland, in 1991. Since its independence, Somaliland has managed to secure the political stability, economic and social development needed to investigate the atrocities committed in the past through a War Crimes Investigation Commission (WCIC) of 6 members. As a result of this, EPAF engages with the local government of Somaliland and the WCIC to assist in the investigation of these crimes. \r\n\r\n The Somaliland Field School focuses on integrating EPAF\u2019s rights based model with the technical work of forensic anthropology. Hands on transitional justice and the combination of memory with prosecution make up the context of this school. In this field school, students experience a more scientific approach with ante mortem data collection, analysis of remains and interaction with state officials during the course of performing exhumations. By working in tandem with EPAF staff, students witness how EPAF conducts exhumations with that could lead to evidence being used in prosecutions. The field school in Somaliland also includes other transitional measures based on EPAF\u2019s model including dignifying the dead, symbolic reparations and memorialization work that includes the planning of monuments to the victims. EPAF\u2019s work in Somaliland also provides students the unique opportunity to assist in EPAF\u2019s ongoing program of South-South cooperation and to see how transitional justice work is performed with in a context where the government has chosen to deal with the past and address the post-conflict scars in its society. \r\n\r\n The excursion into the field in Somaliland will help to determine the amount of missing people through a systematic approach, ante mortem data collection and research of mass graves. Also, the Field School will assist in training the staff of the WCIC in the forensic investigation of human rights violations and war crimes. At the completion of the course, the participants will have a deeper understanding of the application of forensic sciences in the investigation of human rights violations, as well as the process involved in the examination, recovery and analysis of mass graves. \r\n\r\n EPAF is continuing to share its expertise around the world and the Somaliland Field School is another example of this. EPAF\u2019s current work in Brazil, Ecuador, and Mexico, among other countries, is assisting the development of new forensic teams and further advancing the vision of South-South cooperation that EPAF carries in its work. The field schools in Peru and Somaliland represent the cutting edge of EPAF\u2019s work and the great work it continues to do here and around the world. \r\n”}]}[/content-builder]

378. THE GREAT FESTIVEAL OF NEPAL: DASHAIN (PRONOUNCED DASAI)

     November 7, 2014 3:52 am 348 Comments

     In the middle of the fall festival season comes the biggest of Nepali festivals. During the 10 days of it’s duration all offices and businesses shut down and people travel to their homes from all corners of the country (and in some cases the world). Time is spent with family and friends, eating a lot of food, and engaging in all sorts of unique rituals and ceremonies. It is such an important time that even all the groups in the Terai that have been causing a ruckus for months issued public statements that they would not do anything to impede travel during this time.

     One of the best parts of experiencing this festival was that it coincided with the time my parents came to Nepal to pay a visit. I had promised all my friends in Gaighat that I would return to spend Dashain with them when I moved to Kathmandu. So amidst more adventure than I have energy to recount, the three of us worked our way through Gaighat to spend the peak of the festival in Harriya. It was “quite a memorable event” as members of my extended family in Gaighat/Harriya like to say.

     Essentially the whole reason for this massive festival (and massive it is) is to celebrate the Hindu goddess Durga for saving the world from evil by killing demons and keep her happy and ready in case she needs to do it again. Temporary shrines and temples are erected all over Nepal and it is common to depict the scene of Durga (with the assistance of the Lion she travels on) killing a demon.

     Man inspecting the life-size portrayal of Durga in a Gaighat Temple.

     

      

     Though Durga is sometimes perceived as a benevolent protector she also has a blood-thirsty side when she gets angry. The key focus of the celebration becomes to keep her mollified and entails huge numbers of animals being sacrificed in her honor. Rumor has it that in Kathmandu alone 40,000 animals (goats, sheep, and water buffalo) are decapitated at the largest temples. Luckily for me, the tradition in the villages, and that we witnessed, is smaller in scale.

     After buying a goat (or a smaller animal depending on economic circumstances) at some point over the summer, people care for and fatten it up, and then ceremonially behead it on the appropriate day. Though we arrived late into Harriya Arjun-dai (discussed in earlier blogs; the current President of NESPEC) was kind enough to postpone his family’s ceremony so we could witness the affair in full.

     Bisal Dahal (Arjun-dai’s son) catching his breath after sacrificing a goat

     

      

     After the brief ceremony was conducted and the goat’s head was swiftly removed with an axe the body was cleaned, skinned, quartered, and delicately dissected before being prepared in a variety of ways and feasted upon for days. (I’ve decided not to put the most graphic details or pictures on this site, but thanks to my Dad I have a complete series of the process so if you would like to see them, feel free to email me directly.)

     The day after the goat-sacrificing comes the peak of the festival. On this day everyone wears new clothes and “takes tika” from all their older relations. “Taking tika” entails receiving a heartfelt blessing for happiness, health, prosperity, etc from older generations of relations as they place a paste of uncooked rice and red powder on your forehead, sprinkle flowers and leaves on your head, tuck a seedling behind your ear, and give you money (the amount tends to vary depending on how close they are to you). The younger you are the more you can make, and the older you are the more you spend!

     Me receiving tika from Arjun-dai’s mother and father, 89 and 88 respectively.

     

      

     People spend the next few days traveling around to visit relations and take tika, flying kites, gambling with cards, playing on huge bamboo swings erected especially for the festival, and eating more meat than they probably eat during the rest of the year combined. As the saying goes, “it was quite a memorable event.”

     My mom and dad after receiving tika

     

379. SADLY IT’S OFFICIAL…. BUT WE PICK UP AND MOVE ON (PART #1)

     November 6, 2014 3:53 am 111 Comments

     [I couldn’t think of topical images to accompany this blog. So instead I’ve inserted random pictures through the posting that attempt to capture the natural beauty I’ve witnessed during my time in Nepal.]
     
     A hillside in Udayapur (the District of which Gaighat is the municipal center)

     

      

     The past month or so in Nepali politics would give the most dramatic of soap operas a run for its money. Unfortunately, the outcome hasn’t been happy, the characters aren’t fictional, and the stakes are very high. The cliffhanger ending of last chapter is that on 5 October the elections scheduled for 22 November were officially canceled, supposedly to be rescheduled at some unidentified future date.

     When I decided to stay in Nepal this semester instead of returning to the Goldman School it was for better or for worse. I was fully prepared for the election not to happen – there was even a precedent for this as the election had been previously postponed. However, despite bumps in the road things for the election were moving forward and the optimism in the air was tangible. The Election Commission had put out regulations, a crew of trainers was being prepared to fan across the country to educate the masses about election procedures, and the lists of candidates were about to be submitted by the parties. Somewhere along the way people began to believe that though it might not be of the highest quality, the election was going to happen.

     Then suddenly the Maoist Party (which is a key part of the fragile 7-party interim government alliance) issued an ultimatum that if the 22 concerns they presented were not satisfactorily addressed by the other 6 parties they would pull out of the alliance and actually “agitate” AGAINST the election. No one believed they would really do this. After waging a revolution for 10+ years, signing a peace agreement, and participating in the 7-party government for less than a year, everyone assumed that they were using scare tactics as a negotiation technique. It turned out their threats were not hollow.

     Sunrise over Anapurna 2 and Fishtail Mountains from Dhampusa (during a trek near Pokhara)

     

      

     The Maoist pull-out from the government started unraveling the proverbial sweater. Ultimately, the election was postponed in order to keep the Maoists in the government, under the guise of creating more time to address their 22 point memorandum. (There is extensive analysis that neither the Maoists nor several other major political parties actually wanted the election because they will likely lose some of their parliamentary seats, but there is no way to directly confront that).

     Civil society had been hoping that despite these power dynamics there was enough domestic and international pressure to ensure the elections would be held. It was heartbreaking to witness people realize that despite years of intense activism their efforts were again insufficient. All stakeholders from Nepali NGO workers to members of the International community have strained to regain their balance and figure out what to do next. Without anything tangible coming yet from the government (like a new date for the election) people have been struggling to find something new to organize themselves around…

     Sunset on a field in Gaighat

     

380. Origins

     November 3, 2014 9:47 pm 71 Comments

     Today, I wanted to share an interview done with Jose Pablo (J.P.) Baraybar, EPAF’s Executive Director, by an online publication that was posted this month. I have translated the highlights here into English. The original can be found here: http://revistamito.com/antropologia-forense-en-primera-persona-roxana-ferllini-y-jose-pablo-raraybar/

     On the origins of EPAF…

     JP: “EPAF was first constituted as the technical group of the National Coordinator for Human Rights in 1997, and then in 2001 it was constituted as a civil association non-profit under the name the Peruvian Forensic Anthropology Team (EPAF). The people of the technical group were entirely archaeologists with diverse experiences, in my case, work with human remains, another person had worked with animal remains and had a strong militancy in the movement of human rights; others were archaeologists specializing in the Andean Area.”

     On how he came to forensics…

     JP: “As I said, I’m archaeologist, although early in my career I started working with human remains in archaeological contexts; shortly thereafter I became a volunteer for Amnesty International and somehow everything fell into place. I became someone interested in working with human remains within a forensic context, and especially in cases of violations of human rights. Years since, these interests materialized into work for the UN as a forensic anthropologist for the international criminal tribunals in Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia and then as Director of the Office of Missing Persons and Forensic Sciences in Kosovo, also for the UN. Certainly for many years this type of work became my day to day.”

     On human rights in Peru and the continent…

     JP: In Peru, “the TRC (Truth and Reconciliation Commission) recommendations were not implemented at all…I should rather say that few of them were implemented. Peru, faces a serious problem with over 15,000 people disappeared during the conflict that have not yet been found, for the absence of a search policy, i.e. a public, state policy, allowing for the return of identity to Peruvians missing and found buried in more than 6000 registered clandestine graves. The situation in Latin America is equally complex, perhaps for the fact that the disappearance of persons (to be forced, involuntary or voluntary) is complex, it is a non-linear phenomenon, i.e. people not going from point A to B, but through a circuit that is not easy to track. This is complicated even more when the disappeared has a criminal background, certainly people “disappear “ to not be found, so it is not enough to know the version of the family looking for a victim, but also to reconstruct in hindsight what occurred from the moment in which the person was seen for the last time.”

     On cooperation with other forensic teams internationally…

     JP: “We work in many parts of the world outside Peru. Our approach is always aimed at sustainable interventions and within the framework of South-South cooperation. We believe that the Global South has more in common by experiences and common causes; therefore we believe that we can contribute a lot. We have thus far worked in Africa, Southeast Asia and different parts of America. On certain occasions we have crossed paths with other teams and others not. Let us also remember that in the end all NGOs live on the resources they can get for projects and the donors are always the same, therefore the needs of survival limit, in many cases, the integration in the work that one would like to see.”

     On forensic anthropology as a career in Peru…

     JP: “In Peru there is no formal career in forensic anthropology and this causes great confusion at the judicial level because they expect that the people who work in this specialty are “anthropologists.” The problem is that anthropologists in Peru are social anthropologists and that does not have any link with the objective of study, i.e., skeletonized or semi skeletonized remains, in legal contexts. The Catholic University (PUCP) had a master’s degree in bio-archaeology and forensic anthropology, but not everyone works in forensics, most work in bio-archaeology.”

     On work outside of Peru…

     JP: “Our presence has been fluctuating and moving on to issues that could be called intrinsic to the topic of forensic science in human rights: issues of memory, issues of the register of missing persons through ante-mortem data collection, technical interviews, databases, etc. Our involvement as forensics also had been in commissions of inquiry and in the planning of public policy in the search for missing persons. Recently, we have initiated expert opinions in cases that are related to the lack of access to justice by citizens of the Peru. Our current scope of action is in Mexico, El Salvador, Ecuador, Brazil, Algeria, Somaliland and the Philippines.”
     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:”1″,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”Today, I wanted to share an interview done with Jose Pablo (J.P.) Baraybar, EPAF\u2019s Executive Director, by an online publication that was posted this month. I have translated the highlights here into English. The original can be found here: http:\/\/revistamito.com\/antropologia-forense-en-primera-persona-roxana-ferllini-y-jose-pablo-raraybar\/\r\n\r\nOn the origins of EPAF\u2026\r\n\r\nJP: \u201cEPAF was first constituted as the technical group of the National Coordinator for Human Rights in 1997, and then in 2001 it was constituted as a civil association non-profit under the name the Peruvian Forensic Anthropology Team (EPAF). The people of the technical group were entirely archaeologists with diverse experiences, in my case, work with human remains, another person had worked with animal remains and had a strong militancy in the movement of human rights; others were archaeologists specializing in the Andean Area.\u201d \r\n\r\nOn how he came to forensics\u2026\r\n\r\nJP: \u201cAs I said, I’m archaeologist, although early in my career I started working with human remains in archaeological contexts; shortly thereafter I became a volunteer for Amnesty International and somehow everything fell into place. I became someone interested in working with human remains within a forensic context, and especially in cases of violations of human rights. Years since, these interests materialized into work for the UN as a forensic anthropologist for the international criminal tribunals in Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia and then as Director of the Office of Missing Persons and Forensic Sciences in Kosovo, also for the UN. Certainly for many years this type of work became my day to day.\u201d \r\n\r\nOn human rights in Peru and the continent\u2026\r\n\r\nJP: In Peru, \u201cthe TRC (Truth and Reconciliation Commission) recommendations were not implemented at all\u2026I should rather say that few of them were implemented. Peru, faces a serious problem with over 15,000 people disappeared during the conflict that have not yet been found, for the absence of a search policy, i.e. a public, state policy, allowing for the return of identity to Peruvians missing and found buried in more than 6000 registered clandestine graves. The situation in Latin America is equally complex, perhaps for the fact that the disappearance of persons (to be forced, involuntary or voluntary) is complex, it is a non-linear phenomenon, i.e. people not going from point A to B, but through a circuit that is not easy to track. This is complicated even more when the disappeared has a criminal background, certainly people \u201cdisappear \u201c to not be found, so it is not enough to know the version of the family looking for a victim, but also to reconstruct in hindsight what occurred from the moment in which the person was seen for the last time.\u201d\r\n\r\nOn cooperation with other forensic teams internationally\u2026\r\n\r\nJP: \u201cWe work in many parts of the world outside Peru. Our approach is always aimed at sustainable interventions and within the framework of South-South cooperation. We believe that the Global South has more in common by experiences and common causes; therefore we believe that we can contribute a lot. We have thus far worked in Africa, Southeast Asia and different parts of America. On certain occasions we have crossed paths with other teams and others not. Let us also remember that in the end all NGOs live on the resources they can get for projects and the donors are always the same, therefore the needs of survival limit, in many cases, the integration in the work that one would like to see.\u201d \r\n\r\nOn forensic anthropology as a career in Peru\u2026\r\n\r\nJP: \u201cIn Peru there is no formal career in forensic anthropology and this causes great confusion at the judicial level because they expect that the people who work in this specialty are \u201canthropologists.\u201d The problem is that anthropologists in Peru are social anthropologists and that does not have any link with the objective of study, i.e., skeletonized or semi skeletonized remains, in legal contexts. The Catholic University (PUCP) had a master’s degree in bio-archaeology and forensic anthropology, but not everyone works in forensics, most work in bio-archaeology.\u201d\r\n\r\nOn work outside of Peru\u2026\r\n\r\nJP: \u201cOur presence has been fluctuating and moving on to issues that could be called intrinsic to the topic of forensic science in human rights: issues of memory, issues of the register of missing persons through ante-mortem data collection, technical interviews, databases, etc. Our involvement as forensics also had been in commissions of inquiry and in the planning of public policy in the search for missing persons. Recently, we have initiated expert opinions in cases that are related to the lack of access to justice by citizens of the Peru. Our current scope of action is in Mexico, El Salvador, Ecuador, Brazil, Algeria, Somaliland and the Philippines.\u201d\r\n”}]}[/content-builder]

381. I hesitated to write this blog

     November 1, 2014 7:06 am 112 Comments

     I hesitated to write this blog. I questioned the ethics of even taking the photo, first asking my colleague what I should do and then for permission. When I travel I rarely take photos preferring instead to capture the experience and not infringe on others. In NGO work, however, photos are a key component.

     Needless to say I am still unsure about sharing this story. I don’t want to take advantage of the situation of a person with a disability in a desperate situation. With the boy and his community perhaps questioning why this muzungo (foreigner) came yet nothing changed or even worse that I gained somehow from the interaction. However, my goal in sharing my interactions with this boy is to raise awareness for PWDs in Gulu, which hopefully can in some, however small, way make a positive change.

     As part of the schools assessment GDPU and AP are completing in Gulu District, I meet with several District Education Officers. When describing the research I asked the officers if there was any school in particular we should visit. It was then my attention was turned to to a rural school which had a boy in primary five using a wheelchair. The officer told the research team that while there was an accessible toilet for the boy but it had fallen into disrepair. As a team we decided it was important to visit the school.

     When we arrived at the school they said the boy was not in class because the heavy rains made the mud too thick for him to come to school. We explained that we wanted to discuss with him the water and sanitation situation as part of our overall needs assessment. The headmaster told us we could go visit the boy at his home, which was nearby. When we arrived the boy, named Dennis, turned out to be more so a young man than a man, and in approximately his early 20s. The headmaster explained that in actuality no one knows his age, but they just put 17 on school documents as students over 18 are not allowed to be enrolled in that primary school. The boy wore a muddy hooded sweatshirt and shirt. The headmaster translated that he told him he did not have a shirt was for the painfully simple reason, that he has no sap with which to was it. His small hut, where he lived in alone, was constructed from little more than plywood, wooden posts, and a thatched roof. It stood without a door, allowing us to peer inside at the absence of any furnishings or bedding.

     I, was both eager and concerned, to find out if he was going to school and ask about the latrine situation at school. From discussions with Dennis, the boy, he had not been to school at all this term and last term he was often absent. From conversations with the boy and the neighbors, his family had left for an undermined amount of time and his sister had locked his school uniform in her hut for reasons we were unable to discern. He was getting by on generosity of his neighbors who brought food to him.

     I wouldn’t consider myself sensitive, or squeamish in matter of development, having traveled extensively in developing countries, but the living conditions of this boy left an impression. The entirety of possessions amounted to the clothes on his back and the straw roof over his head. When services don’t exist, when parents believe disability is a curse, PWDs will continue to be marginalized and neglected. I remain skeptical towards this blog. I hope that by posting Dennis’ story it may serve as a small catalyst for support and growth in disability services; and not be seen as an exploitation of his life. While the realities of his physical impairment cannot be changed, perhaps the condition which he, and many other PWDs, operate can be.

     

     Reality of PWDs in rural Gulu District

382. EPAF 2001-2014: Part 2

     October 17, 2014 1:00 am 110 Comments

     Since its founding, EPAF has made significant contributions to transitional justice and human rights initiatives within Peru and around the world. EPAF pursues projects and partnerships that redress past crimes and provide an honest accounting of political violence in all its forms. Its 2001 publication “Forensic Science and Human Rights: A Proposal for Effective Forensic Investigations of Human Rights Violations” laid out a methodological approach for the use of forensics in the investigation and documentation of human rights violations in Peru and was adopted as a reference document for the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. With the expiration of the Commission’s mandate in 2004, EPAF has continued to collect information on the disappeared through its Memory Project, which preserves the biological and social memory of the disappeared through the testimony of their surviving relatives.

     In February of 2008, EPAF completed the exhumation and analysis of 94 human remains from the country’s largest mass grave in Putis. The discovery attracted international attention to the systematic massacre of civilian populations during the armed conflict and has raised pressure on the government authorities to open up a full investigation into the crime and others like it. In September of 2008, EPAF presented its analysis of the remains from the La Cantuta Massacre to the tribunal adjudicating the human rights trial of ex-Peruvian president Alberto Fujimori. EPAF’s conclusions substantiated the prosecutions claims that the victims had been executed prior to the incineration of their remains and that state agents most likely carried out the executions. In an historic verdict, the tribunal found Fujimori guilty of crimes against humanity and sentenced him to 25 years in prison.

     As recognition of its achievements has spread, EPAF has garnered a reputation as a repository of technical expertise for human rights organizations and legal professionals both in Peru and throughout the world. At the behest of Peru’s National Coordinator of Human Rights and the Office of the Ombudsman, EPAF has organized multiple trainings and workshops to educate human rights activists, attorneys, judges, and government officials on the effective application of forensics in the investigation of human rights crimes. Internationally, EPAF has also responded to appeals by the International Committee for the Red Cross, Freedom House, the American Bar Association, and the Asia Foundation to provide courses on best practices for legal professionals and civil society actors confronting human rights violations in countries as far afield as Venezuela, Chile, the Philippines, Nepal, Thailand and the Democratic Republic of Congo.

     A few of EPAF’s stats:
     • 179 victims recuperated
     • 486 remains analyzed
     • 214 victims identified (125 identified by DNA)
     • 15 official state experts collaborated with
     • 40 independent experts collaborated with
     • EPAF has worked abroad in Nepal, Democratic Republic of Congo, Philippines, USA, Mexico, Brazil, Venezuela, Chile, Thailand
     • EPAF has organized 4 field schools in Peru and Somaliland since 2012

383. Brick kiln employment and recommendations from CONCERN

     October 12, 2014 5:48 am 1 Comment

     How are employees recruited for work in brick kilns?

     The first weeks of October when the monsoon season ends brick kiln owners send their middle men, brokers, to recruit workers from small, impoverished villages throughout Nepal. There are over 500 brick kilns in Kathmandu Valley and 90% of brick kiln employees are migrant workers. Brokers travel throughout the country, specifically to very poor villages that have limited economic opportunities. The broker and employee agree on the amount of bricks the employee will make during the season. The broker then gives the employee an advancement in their salary. The employee now owes the brick kiln hard labor and a specific amount of bricks before the season begins creating debt bondage.

     How do children become involved?

     Brick kiln employees travel very far from their villages to work in the brick kilns and their children must come along for the journey, uprooting them from school for at least 6 months. Brick kiln employees work from sun up until sun down, left with no where else to go during the long working days children accompany their parents to the brick kiln. Young children are left unsupervised in the very dangerous work environment and children physically capable are recruited to start hauling bricks as young as the age of 4. Children spend long hours in the dust-filled, hazardous environment and accidents involving children happen frequently and often result in serious injuries or even death. Children lose out on their education, are often exploited and their development and future compromised.

     What are living conditions like at brick kiln sites?

     A majority of the migrant brick kiln employees live in cramped, one bedroom make-shift huts near the brick kiln site. They are meant to be temporary, have dirt floors and four walls made of unbaked bricks. The small huts house as many as 11 people and cooking, bathing and toilet facilities are located outside, shared amongst hundreds of brick kiln employees and their families.

     How are employees paid?

     At the end of the brick kiln season, the end of May when the monsoon season begins, the employee must have produced the agreed amount of bricks that the broker and employee set when the advancement in salary was distributed. If they have not produced the amount of bricks in the contract the employee now owes the employer. Having no other way to repay the employer the employee is in debt promising they will return the following season – starting the following work season with even more debt.

     Recommendations and long-term sustainable solutions:

     CONCERN emphasizes the importance of workers rights for parents working in brick kilns as a direct link to protecting children and eradicating child labor. With a strong relationship with brick kiln owners and advocacy for employees CONCERN encourages employers to comply by labor laws. CONCERN is currently collaborating with other NGOs to put pressure on brick kiln owners to comply by a code of conduct and to make the following changes in the recruitment and employment process. CONCERN is in the process of creating a long-term program that aims to have brick kilns in the districts of Bhaktapur and Lalitpur completely child labor free in the next three years. Here are a few of the recommendations from the program CONCERN is currently developing:

     1. Educate employers and employees on their rights, in a recent survey conducted by CONCERN 92% of employees were unaware of labor laws and child rights
     2. Put pressure on employers to hire employees with transparent contracts that would be monitored closely, make the advance amount smaller, instead agree on a bonus for the employee at the end of the season
     3. Pay the employee hourly rather than by brick amount to avoid debt bondage, and comply by legal hourly work week
     4. Enforce a code of conduct for employers to sign which would include an agreement to refer all children at brick kiln sites to CONCERN
     5. Provide interim education for migrant children during the brick kiln season to ensure they do not fall behind in their studies and can successfully return to their school when the brick kiln season is over
     6. Facilitate non-formal education classes, day care center services and child clubs at brick kiln sites where families live to create a safe, child friendly environment and prevent children from accompanying their parents to the brick kiln

384. “SEIZING” THEIR RIGHTS

     October 4, 2014 3:54 am 79 Comments

     I’ve repeatedly heard a similar line of rhetoric in speeches given by members of marginalized groups in Nepal (of which there are many). It goes something like this: “We [insert group] have been historically excluded from the governance and power of Nepal. We’ve struggled to raise our voices and to be included– yet we are not being acknowledged. No one is going to hand us our rights. We must fight for them and we must seize them!”

     Since first hearing that idea I’ve puzzled over what it means to “seize” one’s rights… Last week after spending a day watching events in the Eastern Terai, I think I finally understood.

     I was a representative of the Center for Women and Politics supporting the Morang District Accountability Meeting organized by the Biratnagar-based Steering Committee of the Madheshi Women’s Advocacy Forum (explained 2 blogs ago). The purpose of the meeting was to bring together District leaders of political parties to pressure them into supporting the candidacy of Madheshi Women in the upcoming election.

     VIEW OF THE MEETING HALL

     

     The event was fated from the start as a district-wide bandha was called the day before, shutting down shops, schools, and public forms of transportation (buses and taxis were out, but cycle rickshaws and private transportation was ok). Essentially, with creativity people could still move about, but always under the threat of encounter or confrontation with the group calling the bandha. Despite the significant transportation challenges, just over an hour after our start time the hall was nearly filled with local participants and the program began.

     About 45 minutes into the event a flood of women with heads covered in saris squeezed into every empty space of the rented hall. I later learned these women, many of whom are Dalit (the lowest strata of the Hindu caste system) and illiterate, woke up before dawn to complete their household duties, walked several kilometers to wait at an assigned stop, then spent roughly 3 hours covering 15 kilometers packed in a tractor to join our meeting in defiance of the imposed bandha.

     BELIEVE IT OR NOT, OVER 100 WOMEN SQUEEZED INTO THIS TRACTOR….

     

     Through the interpretation of my friend Ajaya I asked Niva Devi Keist, the rural organizer responsible for the incredible participation, how she motivated all the women to come. She shrugged away my amazement and explained “I simply told them the meeting would be an opportunity to learn about the Constitutional Assembly (CA) Election and to support Madheshi women struggling with political parties to be come candidates. They were all very interested to attend – there was no difficulty to get their participation. In fact, they were glad to have the opportunity to show the political parties that though they are not educated, they are interested in the CA.”

     As a testament to the exclusion faced by Madheshi women, none of the political party representatives showed up to the meeting. And though the stated purpose could not be met, the gathering was certainly not in vain. The rural women listened attentively for several hours as people gave speeches about the political challenges faced by Madheshis and how their participation in the CA election is an opportunity to change that. Specific suggestions were given about how they could continue to inform themselves and take action. A strategic discussion also emerged about the possibility of running women candidates independently if the political parties continue to be unresponsive.

     Then after some tea and a quick snack, the women headed back to their tractor to make the return journey to their villages. As I watched them squeeze in I looked at the array of expressions on their faces – the same ones I had seen throughout the day: excitement, confusion, happiness, boredom, exhaustion, and intense focus. Then I thought about all the obstacles standing between these women and their ability to caste a vote – their lack of education, a confusing and constantly changing electoral system led by politicians who do not take them seriously, and potential risks to their physical safety as they struggle to be involved.

     I made the connection between the significant challenges they face and their determined, courageous commitment to keep moving forward despite it all. And I finally started to understand what it means to struggle for and “seize” one’s rights…
     
     **follow this link to an interesting article about the current bandhas affecting Nepal

     HEADIN HOME

     

385. TEEJ – FESTIVAL OF WOMEN

     October 2, 2014 3:54 am 314 Comments

     Fall is festival season in Nepal, and things have definitely begun to kick into high gear. One of the first major celebrations of the season is “Teej” – a festival for women. This festival is overtly about and for women – for weeks I could hear women talking about their preparations. Teej involves eating rich foods the night before, fasting all day (w/o even drinking water), getting dressed in red from head to toe (including bangles and necklaces), and gathering with women friends at homes or at temples to sing and dance. Most women don’t have to work on that day – inside or outside the home. Overall it is a time of merriment, joy, and sisterhood.

     Though the day is centered on women, the underlying religious significance of the ceremony is about men. The praying and singing and fasting is done mostly to Shiva (one of the main Hindu gods) to protect the lives of the males in your family – and particularly your husband. Women who are married perform their rituals to ensure a long and happy life for (and with) their husband. Those who are unmarried perform the same rituals as a way to ask Shiva to help them find a good mate. After the sun goes down married women break their fast by having their husband feed them their first mouthful of food. Tradition also has it that before eating women wash their husbands’ feet, and drink a bit of the foot-bath water that was used – but all of the men and women I discussed this with blatantly refuse to follow that tradition because they believe it is demoralizing.

     A SAGE HANGING AROUND THE TEMPLE DRESSED AS SHIVA (BUT NOT GETTING MUCH ATTENTION FROM ANYONE EXCEPT FOREIGNERS)

     

     My friend Sanjita, who along with her brother, owns a knitting shop in Thamel (the tourist section of town) had been begging me for weeks to spend Teej with her. So, I met her at her shop around noon and we went upstairs to the store room to change. Sanjita was married 6 months ago and consequently had several gorgeous red saris. I felt really awkward at first wrapping (and wrapping) myself in the sari she wore for her wedding ceremony but after a little assurance from her I decided to simply enjoy the luxury of a pure chiffon and hand-sequined sari.

     SANJITA AND ME

     

     Once dressed we headed to Pashupathi-nath, the most famous temple in Kathmandu to join throngs of women swathed in red. Lines of red dotted with umbrellas shielding the sun zig-zagged through the streets outside the temple compound as women queued to visit the main shrine. We decided to forego the hours-long wait, skipped doing a puja in front of Shiva’s statue, and instead worked our way into the back of the temple compound to visit some of the smaller temples and simply enjoy the crowd. And what a crowd it was!

     A PORTION OF THE CROWD BEHIND PASHUPATHI’S MAIN TEMPLE

     

     I’m not sure if it was the elation of the day or simply the fasting induced light-headedness – but I don’t recall ever seeing such a spirited gathering before. We quickly become engulfed in a red sea of clapping, laughing, singing, and dancing women. They were everywhere… in courtyards, under tents, and in the temples. They seemed to have bottomless energy and enthusiasm. And they were truly gorgeous. Perhaps many of them were praying for the good health and longevity of their husbands, but more than anything, it seemed like Teej was just an excuse for women of all ages to cast their duties aside for the day, get decked out, and have a plain ‘ole good time!

     WOMEN SINGING AND DANCING

     

386. MADHESHI WOMEN’S ADVOCACY FORUM: INITIAL SUCCESSES AND CHALLENGES

     September 20, 2014 3:55 am 1 Comment

     Since moving to Kathmandu I’ve spent most of my time helping the Madheshi Women’s Advocacy Forum (MWAF) get up and running. The MWAF was created as a result of the Madheshi Women’s National Conference held by Sarita Giri (both written about in my earlier blogs), and is a network of grassroots women leaders in districts across the Terai region dedicated to the social, economic, and political empowerment of Madheshi women.

     The immediate initiative of the MWAF is to help Madheshi women’s political empowerment during the upcoming Constitutional Assembly Election. We have three short term goals:

     1. To push for large numbers of Madheshi women candidates in constituencies across the Terai.
     2. To educate Madheshi women at local levels about the upcoming election and democracy in general.
     3. To mobilize voters to support qualified Madheshi women candidates and get them elected.

     Right now we are implementing a 3-phase plan focused on the first goal.

     To keep up the momentum from the National Conference and to begin working toward our goal of getting Madheshi women on the ballot we scheduled a MWAF National Steering Committee meeting in Kathmandu (Phase 1). On 9-11 September we brought the women leaders to Kathmandu from each of the 21 districts to launch the national campaign, “Win with Madheshi Women,” and for organizing sessions about Phase 2. The campaign launch was a big success and brought together the press, women leaders from many backgrounds, and high-level political party members to offer their support for the movement.

     THE MWAF NATIONAL STEERING COMMITTEE MEMBERS UNVEILING A POSTER DEPICTING MADHESHI WOMEN CALLING FOR PEACE, SOCIAL JUSTICE, AND DEMOCRACY.

     

     The second part of the National Steering Committee Meeting was sessions to help district leaders plan for Phase 2: District Level “Accountability Meetings.” The purpose of these meetings is to pressure local chapters of political parties to commit to running Madheshi female candidates.

     The outcome of the planning sessions was a little more mixed than the campaign launch. To begin with, the mixed electoral system of proportional representation and direct election being used in Nepal’s coming election is complicated even for those familiar with democratic processes, let alone people who are entirely new to the practice of voting.

     On top of that, it turns out that the concepts and strategies we are trying to impart to our district leaders are quite challenging. Examples include strategically playing political parties against each other to increase the number of women candidates they commit to running and identifying for potential candidates that are currently not involved in party politics yet that might appeal to a wide range of people. The task of helping these women influence a system they don’t fully understand combined with the fact that (like most groups) there is a range of participants, from superstar to those just along for the ride, made our sessions less of a resounding success than I would have liked.

     STRATEGY SESSION OF THE MWAF NATIONAL STEERING COMMITTEE

     

     An additional problem I’m struggling with is the lack of original and critical thinking done by many of our district leaders. There seems to be a very strong cultural propensity in Nepal to defer to hierarchy – and I’ve experienced this being particularly intense among women. (Sarita is incredibly different in this regard, and I think this is why I appreciate working with her so much.)

     As much as Sarita and I tried to give our district leaders theory to guide their own strategy formation, practically we ended up needing to be a lot more directive in providing specific tactics and even much more basic background information. Coming from a teaching background I understand the need to first teach to students and then guide them w/ varying levels of support before they can do something independently. Yet for some reason, working with adults makes this process seem unnecessary. The reality is that it is just as crucial, if not more so with adults, and I think if I can stay in that mindset it will help a lot.

     Despite the difficulties of the planning sessions, the ongoing challenge of long distance communication in Nepal (ie. phone/fax), and the highly turbulent current political situation, our District Accountability meetings are scheduled to start from tomorrow. No doubt some will flop, but I do think there is the potential for many to be a success. The political parties are scheduled to publish their candidate lists on 30 September. Hopefully the District Accountability Meetings combined with our upcoming National Accountability Meeting (Phase 3) will produce lists loaded with quality Madheshi Women Candidates. Keep your fingers crossed for us…

387. One month in Nepal

     September 16, 2014 7:25 am 85 Comments

     The past month at CONCERN has been extremely eventful! I have been busy familiarizing myself with CONCERN’s past work, current projects and their goals for the future. The team here is an engaging, energetic group that I feel so fortunate to work with. I have already learned more than I could have ever imagined in just a few short weeks. From going on field visits – to meeting with ambassadors – to continuously writing and editing grant proposals – each day is always different.

     CONCERN is currently wrapping up a very successful three year project that reached over 2,000 children. They are now in the developing stages of creating a new three-year program that aims to eradicate child labor in seven brick kilns in the two districts of Bhaktapur and Lalitpur. The program aims to eliminate child labor through education, empowerment, and economic sustainability. I am privileged to be a part of the development of this new project and would like to share key ways of my involvement and what an average week is like for me here at CONCERN.

     Field Visits
     Field visits have been vital to deepening my understanding of the work CONCERN does, and to gain a better understanding of the new the program in development. I visited seven brick kilns that CONCERN currently works with facilitating non-formal education classes, daycare center services, vocational training support, and income generation alternatives.

     The field visits to the brick kilns in the two districts of Bhaktapur and Lalitpur where there are nearly 200 brick kilns opened my eyes to the grave conditions of labor in brick kilns. CONCERN works in seven different brick kilns and in the past three years has reached over 2,000 children providing alternative options and support.

     Organizations and Embassy Meetings
     My main focus in this area is coordinating meetings with organizations and ambassadors from embassies to introduce the long-term program CONCERN is developing. I attend the meetings with the Executive Director seeking advice and recommendations on the project. A key component in these endeavors is to prompt interest in financially supporting the project. We tactfully ask the ambassador to raise the issue of child labor in Nepal with government officials. The meetings have gone very well and we’ve obtained valuable recommendations. We are now drafting proposals to the organizations and embassies to support areas of the larger project to be implemented in 2015.

     Proposal Writing
     Part of my fellowship in Nepal has been the development of a small proposal that will rescue twelve children from the brick kilns this year and provide them the financial support to attend school. CONCERN will provide their admission fees, exam fees, uniform, backpack, and school supplies. Upon finalization of the proposal, The Advocacy Project will launch a campaign assisting in fundraising for this project.

     Moving Forward
     As the brick kiln season starts in October I will go back to the brick kilns for more field visits. At this time we will assess how many children are working in the brick kilns this season and what the needs are for all involved including employers, parents, and the children. CONCERN prides itself on having a strong relationship with employers and parents, which enables them to work with the children. We will also continue meeting with organizations and ambassadors requesting recommendations and potential financial assistance to fund the new project.

     I anticipate and look forward to a busy, productive and fulfilling rest of my fellowship with CONCERN!

388. POLITICS AND MUSIC: THE NEXT INDIAN IDOL

     3:56 am Leave a Comment

     There are two kinds of voting currently consuming the thoughts and energy of the Nepali public. First, is the voting related to the Constitutional Assembly election scheduled for 22 November. This newly elected body will be charged with the important tasks of writing a new constitution for Nepal, helping the country transition to a democracy, and bringing stability after 10+ years of violent conflict. The second type of voting that urgently weighs on the minds of many Nepalis relates to the all important selection of this year’s “Indian Idol.”

     The national delight in Indian Idol is not surprising as Nepal’s culture is infused with singing. I have experienced sitting on the roof in Gaighat during power outages and stifling heat to pass the time learning Nepali folk songs, witnessed workshops in which late-arriving participants had to sing a song as their entrance toll, been surrounded by a roomful of young adults from different parts of the country earnestly sharing and teaching each other songs from their regions, and heard people burst into song during meetings – either to close things out or as a way of expressing their sentiments when words were insufficient.

     AN AFTER-HOURS SING/DANCE PARTY AT THE MADHESHI WOMEN’S NATIONAL CONFERENCE

     

     However, this love of all things musical seemingly turned into a national obsession when an Indian Idol participant of Nepali decent by the name of Prassant Thamang made it to the Top 10 Finalists. One night a few weeks ago, shortly after my move to Kathmandu, I was walking home after dinner with a friend, and the street was eerily quiet, save one song that was swirling all around me… Then suddenly the entire neighborhood burst into cheers and applause. I was very confused for a moment until I realized, it was Friday night around 10pm, which meant Nepalis across the country were huddled around any television they could find to watch Indian Idol and cheer on Prassant.

     This support for Prassant has not only become a national pastime, it has also been turned into a national campaign. Though Nepalis can easily get the cable channels from India that allow them to watch the show, they are not able to participate in the voting as the systems do not allow international votes from Nepal. However, these resolute Nepalis have not been deterred. They have set up a coordinated effort to make calls, submitting votes from numerous centers just inside the Indian border. Through their successful and strategic manipulation of the voting process Prassant has made it to the very last round and he is one of the two finalists vying for the title (though he is good, I have to say he is certainly not at this point based on talent alone).

     In the last few days, I have begun to see the army of Prassant troops mobilizing their final push to support their candidate in the remaining 7 days of voting. I have repeatedly come across young people marching with pictures and banners in the street and booths with loud speakers calling on people to donate to the cause.

     PRASSANT SUPPORTERS TAKING DONATIONS

     

     The money that is collected for Prassant is sent to communities of Nepali descent living just across the border in India – much like the one that Prassant came from in Darjeeling. Once it arrives, I imagine these donations support a network of volunteer troops that have been organized into around-the clock shifts, making non-stop calls to ensure that Prassant will become the next Indian Idol.

     It would be really easy to moan about how the energy and resources going toward Prasant (and filling the coffers of the Indian phone companies) could be better spent on some of Nepal’s urgent needs. It would also be easy to joke about the organizational lessons that the 8-parties could learn from this youth initiative. But I’ll do neither. Instead I’ll say that the ingenuity, enthusiasm, and organization of this campaign impresses me, and in some ironic way gives me hope for the next generation of Nepali leaders.

     And I’ll hold out a hope that Prassant will take a few weeks after his stint with Indian Idol is over to take advantage of his popularity, return the love he has been shown by Nepal, and encourage the Nepali people to put the same energy they have shown into the next set of vitally important elections.

389. THE BIG DECISION

     September 4, 2014 3:56 am 152 Comments

     I just left Gaighat and after a relatively uneventful bus-ride I arrived back in Kathmandu (enabled by a surprisingly effective police effort to keep the roads open despite attempts at a Bandha). According to my original plan this should have been my last blog and I should have already arrived back in California and started classes. As happens, the plan has changed. I have decided to stay in Nepal for the coming semester, move from Gaighat to Kathmandu, and return to the USA at the end of the year to resume my courses next semester.

     “Why,” you may ask, have you made this decision? The essence of my decision is that I feel this is a particularly interesting time to be in Nepal with elections scheduled for 22 November, and having recently summitted the peak of an intense language and cultural learning curve, I simply didn’t feel ready to leave. Once I decided to explore the possibility of staying I quickly became amazed at how doors effortlessly opened and things began to fall into place. Overall it has been a surprisingly easy decision to stay.

     “So, what will you be doing,” is a logical next question…

     If you read my previous blog you will know that I have come across an amazing Nepali female leader by the name of Sarita Giri (pictured below during the 2006 People’s Movement –http://www.peacexpeace.org/resources/images/Sarita2.jpg).

     

     After our work at the Madheshi Women’s National Conference, Sarita asked me to continue with her for the next few months. The bottom line is we will help women get elected in Nepal’s upcoming Constitutional Assembly election – and hopefully simultaneously bring women’s voices into the national discourse to support the process of stabilizing and bringing peace to Nepal.

     As I’m sure you know if you’ve been reading my blogs I have been deeply touched this summer by the circumstances facing women in Nepal. Though elections were not something I directly set out to work on, after a little reflection I decided that at this moment the most effective way to help Nepali women improve their prospects is to support their inclusion in the creation of Nepal’s new Constitution. Not only will this give women a voice and an opportunity to advocate for vital issues affecting them at a national level, but it will increase the likelihood that a favorable national structure for addressing these issues will be created. A side effect is that even if women are elected in limited numbers, this process alone will increase their participation in political life and develop the capacity of many as local and national leaders.

     Even though there is a definite potential that elections will not be held as scheduled on 22 November, this is still an incredible time to be in Nepal, and I feel blessed with an amazing opportunity to help organize a national women’s movement. My personal hope is that after the elections this movement will continue on in an organized way to address some of the overwhelming issues affecting women across Nepal.

     One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned over the summer is that things don’t tend to go according to plan, particularly in Nepal. And, staying consistent to my nature, during my remaining time here I also hope to juggle a few other projects that will continue to supporting the work of the other great organizations I’ve come to know. Thus, it is likely that as things unfold there will be a few twists to the current plot outline… Stay tuned!

     ME AND MY CO-WORKERS AFTER MY FIRST “RICE TRANSPLANTION” LESSON

     

390. Just a Girl

     September 3, 2014 5:28 pm 69 Comments

     Not quite a woman

     but carries the burden of a mother

     brick laden

     knock-kneed

     and hunchbacked

     age 8

     She is gray-haired

     gray faced

     showered with

     brick dust that settles

     in the fault lines

     of her brow

     Her emphysemic breath

     chugs like an old

     train running on

     coal dust

     as she carries

     her fourth load, fifth load,

     sixth

     Her home is

     four brick-stacked

     walls without mortar

     held together solely

     by inertia topped

     by aluminum paneling

     topped by discarded garbage

     and old tires

     She is too burdened

     to wipe the sweat, dust,

     and mud from her

     bleary eyes, so

     she squints half blind

     Her path is tread

     by a memory ingrained

     deeply into her destiny

391. APPOLOGIES

     September 1, 2014 2:14 am 98 Comments

     My apologies for the lapse in blogs. I am now in the Czech Republic supporting the Dženo Association in whatever way I can given the brief time I am here. Like UKAGW, Dženo is dedicated to improving the situation of the Roma (see http://www.dzeno.cz/?c_id=2533). Beyond that similarity it is difficult to compare the Czech Republic with its not so distant communist past to England without it. This does not mean one group or country is more deserving than the other, or that one issue is more pressing than another, just perhaps that there are different histories and with them, different complications. The important part is where they do meet: on the common and essential ground of helping to end discrimination of the Romany people.

     I look forward to sending an update on my brief, but hopefully very productive time with the Dženo Association. In the meantime, please find below a blog I wrote several weeks ago on a site visit to Pitlochry, Scotland.

392. Israel, Gaza and the Future of Humanitarian Law

     August 26, 2014 12:04 pm Leave a Comment

     Washington DC, August 26: Israel’s tactics during the war in Gaza force us to ask whether humanitarian law has value in today’s “asymmetric” wars. It is a troubling and difficult question, the more so as the International Committee of the Red Cross is celebrating the 150^th anniversary of the first Geneva Convention, on the protection of wounded soldiers.

     Israel has long argued that by seeking to protect non-combatants, the Geneva Conventions also make it possible for fighters to hide among civilians. Faced by this, goes the argument, state armies like the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) have no option but to bend the rules, even it means causing casualties among those who are not participating directly in the fight.

     Israel has applied this doctrine with singular ferocity during the current war, bombing and shelling apartments, homes, mosques, power plants and even UN shelters. Hundreds of Palestinian women and children have been killed in the process.

     This comes at a time when the very notion of humanitarianism is under siege. Recent months have seen starvation and chemical weapons used by the Syrian army, prisoners beheaded and executed by ISIS in Iraq, civilians blown up by the Taliban in Afghanistan, mass kidnapping by Boko Haram in Nigeria, and a Malaysian jetliner brought down in Ukraine. The protection of noncombatants in conflict has never seemed more difficult.

     Yet it is, as always, a shock to see Israel acting with such force. Hamas, of course, has contributed to the carnage by placing rockets among Palestinian civilians, storing weapons in UN schools, and targeting Israelis without distinction. No one should underestimate the panic and insecurity this has caused in Israel. But one expects Hamas to exploit whatever advantages come its way. The weaker side in asymmetric wars rarely plays by the rules. As a party to the Geneva Conventions and a democratic state, Israel is held to a much higher standard.

     *

     The rules governing the protection of noncombatants in war (ius in bello) are laid out in the four Geneva Conventions that were developed between 1864 and 1949 and cover four separate categories: wounded soldiers; shipwrecked sailors; prisoners of war; and civilians. Two protocols were added during the 1970s, to expand the protection offered by the Conventions during international armed conflict (protocol 1) and internal armed conflicts (protocol 2). In the years since, tribunals and the International Criminal Court have provided teeth by prosecuting individuals for violations of the Conventions (war crimes).

     Israel is not the only frustrated state party to argue that this body of law benefits militants and rebels. The argument was heard repeatedly during the drafting of Protocol 1, which categorized some wars of liberation as international armed conflicts. The Reagan Administration, for example, argued that this would provide POW status – and protection – to irregular fighters who do not wear uniforms or answer to a clear chain of command (the definition of a combatant in the third Convention). The same argument resurfaced after 9/11 during the controversy over detainees. In one of the so-called torture memos, Albert Gonzales, counsel to President Bush, famously described the Geneva Conventions as out of date and “quaint.” Although President Obama has reversed course on torture, the US has still to join the two protocols.

     But Israel has come closest to turning the doubts into a doctrine. In a 2010 book, Moral Dilemmas of Modern War, Michael Gross, from the University of Haifa, argued that in asymmetric wars “many civilians look and act like combatants” and concluded that state armies are likely to lose these wars if they do not meet fire with fire.

     The IDF has acted on the same assumption in three recent wars – South Lebanon (2006), Gaza in 2009, and again during the current conflict. Even though Israeli bombs and shells caused Palestinian deaths, Israel maintains that Hamas was responsible because Hamas operated from civilian areas – which Israel compared to taking “human shields.” After being heavily criticized for shelling UN schools where civilians had taken refuge, the IDF observed that UNRWA had discovered Hamas mortars in three empty UN schools. The clear implication was that any civilian building with any connection to Hamas was fair game, however remote and whatever its current function

     *

     One way to test Israel’s argument is through just war theory, which has provided the moral basis for much of the relevant international law and was invoked by President Obama after he received the 2009 Nobel Peace Prize. Self defense is certainly recognized as a just reason for taking up arms and is also permitted under article 51 of the UN Charter. The barrage of Hamas rocket attacks has been nothing if not “imminent.”

     But the question for just war theorists is whether Israel’s pulverizing response has been “necessary.” This is hard to answer. Most of the rockets were intercepted by Iron Dome and appear to have caused very few casualties. Israel presumably could have sealed off the border and demolished the tunnels without attacking the civilian areas of Gaza. But the IDF’s real target has been Hamas fighters, and Israel would argue that they could not be eliminated without going into civilian areas. Whether the attacks that followed have been “necessary” from a military perspective is left to the IDF – and public opinion – to determine. This is hardly satisfactory.

     Just war theory would also ask whether Israel’s response was “proportionate.” According to the Palestinian Ministry of Health, as of August 20, 2,016 Palestinians had died, including 541 children and 240 women. 67 Israelis had also died, of whom all but three were soldiers. The contrast is striking, but does not necessarily make the Israeli response “disproportionate.” For Article 57 of the First Additional Protocol, a proportional military action is one that is not “excessive in relation to the concrete and direct military advantage anticipated.”

     The problem with this is that there is no objective way of deciding how many civilian deaths justify the killing of a militant. Occasionally, common sense will prevail, as in 2009 when German troops called in a NATO air strike in the Afghan province of Kunduz after the Taliban hijacked two petrol tankers. Over 100 civilians were burned to death. Shocked, the Germans paid out compensation to the families. But most arguments about proportionality end inconclusively, because the military will accept very high civilian casualties in their zeal to kill “terrorists” and “militants.” Over 300 Pakistani civilians were killed in a series of drone strikes, before a drone finally killed Baitullah Mehsud, a leader of the Pakistan Taliban in 2009. President Obama hailed Mehsud’s death as a major achievement in the war against terror.

     Next, there is the question of who is a “civilian.” Article 51 of the First Additional Protocol states that anyone not taking a “direct part” in hostilities should be protected, but this has long been a source of debate. Some would say that anyone associated with an army is fair game, which would mean that even military chaplains and cooks are legitimate targets. Others would argue for a narrower approach in an effort to minimize the killing. The Goldstone report, commissioned after the 2009 war in Gaza, took Israel to task for killing 240 Palestinian policemen – one sixth of all Palestinian casualties. Goldstone described the Gaza police as a “civilian law enforcement agency.” But Israel responded that the police were paramilitary and supporting Hamas, and so deemed a legitimate target.

     Between 2003 and 2008, the ICRC held a series of meetings to clarify this confusion. The final report concluded that “direct participation” in a conflict refers to a person’s engagement in “specific hostile acts” rather than “status, function, or affiliation.” Taken at face value, this would presumably extend protection to soldiers on leave and in mufti – or even a Hamas fighter who is unarmed and at home. The fact of being a woman or child is not relevant – a female suicide bomber, for example, is clearly a legitimate target. What matters is that someone is actively taking part in the fight. Most armies would find this extremely restrictive.

     Fifth, there is the question of whether civilian infrastructure is a legitimate target. On July 29, Israeli air strikes destroyed Gaza’s only power plant, on the argument that it was supplying power to the Hamas military machine. In so doing, of course, Israel also deprived hard-pressed civilians of electricity and greatly complicated the task of reconstruction. Yet “dual use” facilities like power plants do pose a dilemma. NATO offered the same argument after destroying Kosovo’s telecommunications hub in the early stages of the aerial campaign against Serbia in 1999.

     Finally, and most difficult, there is the question of intent. This bears directly on whether Israel’s actions constitute war crimes, and will no doubt be considered closely by the Schabas Commission, as it was by the Goldstone inquiry in 2009. Were the UN schools deliberately targeted by Israeli forces? If the answer is yes, Israel is guilty of war crimes. If no, the civilian deaths were collateral damage – regrettable, and even disproportionate, but not war crimes.

     Under US law a felony murder occurs if someone is killed during an act of felony, even if the death is unintended. But international law shrinks from such moral clarity. In this, it can draw on another Christian doctrine, known as “double effect.” This doctrine was part of the rationale developed by Christian thinkers from Saint Augustine onwards to justify taking up arms. It says, in essence, that you can target an enemy even if civilians are likely to die in the process, as long as their deaths are not intended. Deaths can be predicted, but they must not be intended.

     This has become a license to kill. Think Afghanistan, where NATO strikes have repeatedly bombed social gatherings in an attempt to kill Taliban. These attacks happened with such regularity and predictability that the resulting civilian deaths began to look – if not deliberate – then criminally negligent. But the doctrine of double effect asks for no such precision and allows the broadest possible interpretation of “intent.” As such it provides a handy excuse for virtually any civilian collateral damage – one of the major concerns about the use of drones in the “war against terror.”

     NATO commanders have attempted to deal with the controversy over NATO attacks in Afghanistan pragmatically, rather than legally. Aware that civilian deaths were threatening the NATO mission and poisoning relations with the Afghan government, General Stanley McChrystal introduced new rules of engagement in 2009 that limited ground strikes to situations where NATO troops were directly threatened. These new rules elicited protests from group troops and were relaxed by McChrystal’s successor, David Petraeus the following year. The botched air strikes continued, casting a stain on NATO’s reputation and playing into the hands of the Taliban.

     *

     What conclusion can be drawn from this review? First that the rules for protecting civilians in today’s wars are dangerously, painfully ambiguous – and as such easily ignored by a determined fighting force. Enforcement is equally weak because it is left to individual governments, which rarely prosecute their own soldiers with any vigor. Internationally, the International Criminal Court has little to contribute because many key governments, including Israel, have not ratified. Reciprocity – the fear that one’s opponent might retaliate in kind – rarely applies in an asymmetric war, where the weaker side is fighting to the death and using brutality as a weapon of war. Prisoner exchanges might be the one exception.

     Yet the fragility of humanitarian law also exposes the dilemma facing state armies like the IDF in an asymmetric war. Governments have much more to lose than Hamas or ISIS if the laws of war are completely discredited. This may be the most compelling argument for restraint, and it is on this that most would fault Israel. By exploiting every possible ambiguity in an effort to force Gaza into submission, Israel has exposed humanitarian law at a time when international protection has never looked more difficult.

     This no doubt accounts for the furious response to Israel’s tactics from the mild-mannered UN Secretary-General Ban Ki Moon, who described the third Israeli school attack, on August 3, as a “moral outrage and a criminal attack.” It also accounted for the remarkable image of the UN spokesman in Gaza, Christopher Gunness, breaking down in tears. Mr Gunness might as well have been asking: “If Israel is not going to play by the rules, then who will?” Human rights advocates asked much the same question about the US following the Abu Ghraib scandal and the disclosure that the US has used torture against detainees.

     Israel has also done a disservice to the laws of war by blaming Hamas for the civilian casualties caused by the IDF in Gaza. This calls into question the cardinal principle that individuals are responsible for their actions in war. Responsibility for the deaths in Gaza lies with the soldiers and pilots who dropped the bombs and those who gave the orders – not with Hamas. While Hamas has clearly operated among civilians, there is no evidence that Hamas has forced civilians into the line of fire, which is the definition of using human shields.

     *

     The question of whether Israel has crossed the line has been answered in different ways on both sides of the Atlantic. Apart from a rare rebuke from the Obama administration after the August 3^rd school shelling in Rafah, US commentators have been remarkably unconcerned. The pugnacious Thomas Friedman put it like this: “Hamas used Gaza’s civilians as war-crimes bait. And Israel did whatever was necessary to prove to Hamas, “You will not outcrazy us out of this region.” It was all ugly. This is not Scandinavia.” David Ignatius, writing in the Washington Post, took John Kerry to task for trying to halt the bloodshed at a time when the bombs were raining down. American politicians, including Michael Bloomberg and Andrew Cuomo, visited Israel to show solidarity.

     Public opinion in Europe has been less forgiving. It is not just that Europeans understand the threat that Israeli tactics pose to humanitarian principles, but that Europe has little tolerance for Israel’s overall policy of occupation. Europeans view Israeli settlements as a major breach of article 49 of the 4^th Geneva Convention, which forbids an occupying power from transferring citizens onto the occupied land. Israel responds that the West Bank was not legitimately governed before 1967 and is thus not occupied – another sophistry that many feel weakens the Conventions. And while Europeans have no love for Hamas, they also feel that Israel’s uncompromising approach to Hamas is calculated to produce rage and preclude moderation.

     *

     This debate will now no doubt be played out in the worst possible context – a deeply polarizing UN inquiry into war crimes. The UN Human Rights Council has set up a commission on inquiry under the Canadian lawyer, William Schabas, and everything points to a replay of the 2009 Goldstone report. Critics of Israel in the UN will use the Schabas inquiry to demand a comprehensive indictment of Israel. Israel will denounce the inquiry as yet another example of UN double standards.

     In fact, the inquiry should probably be seen as the exact reverse – a last-ditch attempt to defend international humanitarian law. If Israel is sincere in believing that the Geneva Conventions are in need of revision, it should make this case before the international community, and not force the issue unilaterally in Gaza. Instead of barring the Schabas commission, withholding cooperation, and excoriating Mr Schabas, Israel should seize the initiative, welcome the debate, and take whatever punches come its way. That way, something might be salvaged from the Gaza catastrophe. Other contemporary challenges in Syria, Iraq, Ukraine and Africa might just seem a little less daunting.

     Some Israelis understand this. In a short but important recent commentary, the human rights group B’Tselem issued a withering denunciation of Israel’s tactics: “Hamas is not – and cannot be – responsible for the extreme damage that Israel caused civilians in Gaza. Holding Hamas responsible for Israel’s actions is tantamount to freeing Israel of any restrictions in its response, no matter how horrendous, to violations of the law by Hamas. This position is unjustifiable, either morally or legally: the responsibility for the harsh consequences of Israel’s policy in the last month lies with Israel’s government and top military commanders who authorized it, despite the foreseeable horrific results.”

     The clear moral thinking of B’Tselem and other Israeli human rights organizations has been one of the few redeeming features of the never-ending conflict between Israel and the Palestinians. Let us hope that others can follow their lead in the weeks to come.

     **

     Filed under: Uncategorized | Tagged: Gaza, Geneva Conventions, Hamas, Israel | Leave a comment »

393. Delving into ancient traditions

     August 24, 2014 3:24 pm 77 Comments

     It is incredible the patrimony that I will be able to bring back home after this intense 10 weeks here in Ain Leuh with the Advocacy Project. Going through all the stages of the weaving process feels like being initiated to an ancient and pristine ritual in which all the passages are filled with a rich symbolic content.

     This week we have gone through the phase of carding, preparing the yarn and coloring wool.
     Assisted by Hafidha, one of the latest to join the women at Association Tifsa – and yet very talented – I have been taught how to properly remove impurities from wool with the help of the traditional Kirshaal, which in Amazigh language designates the two long brushes in the picture below, and to brush wool with a moshta.

     

     Moments of hilarity followed, when I was asked to uncover my leg to use it as the spinning wheel on which wool would then be rolled in order to produce the yarn through the help of a mighzaal.

     

     Dyeing the yarn offered a fascinating overview of all the possible colors and nuances that are available in nature and contradicted some of my convictions: so an unexpected greenish yellow – not pink – would result from dyeing with pomegranate. Onion skins for orange-peach pigment, madder for deep red…

     

     Like witches preparing a potion, we proceeded to immerse the yarn into wanwoori, a tree that is typical of Ain Leuh region and whose leaves are used to obtain a mustard-yellow hue, and that is likewise known as a traditional remedy to treat some blood-related conditions.

     

     In Amazigh weavers’ tradition, colors – like motifs – reflect the life cycle: the traditional palette would comprise 5 basic colors like green, yellow, red, black and orange that can assimilated to the hues of henna before and after it is applied on the skin by brides-to-be the first day of the wedding ceremony.

     Coloring with natural dyes might be a long process, yet one that would ensure the final product to be colorfast, thus increasing the value of the woven product.

     I have to admit, this was one of the most intriguing days of my weaving boot-camp and women at Tifsa really know their stuff. Like Hachmia, my host, told me, I am one inch away to become fully Amazigh.

      

394. HARRIYA I: WHO NEEDS “SURVIVOR”

     August 23, 2014 3:59 am 332 Comments

     These past few months in Nepal have been and on going process of having my eyes opened. It was one thing to sit at home and read about life in under-developed countries or see images of them on TV. But my theoretical understanding can’t even begin compare to the understanding I’m gaining here. Ironically every time I think, “Okay, now I get it,” another experience whacks me upside the head and reveals the next layer. The opportunity I had recently to visit my close friend Parmila’s home village of Harriya was such an induction.

     My good friend Parmila had to return her 4-year old daughter Rachanna to her grandparents home in their village because school was starting, and she invited me to come. Parmila’s uncle, Arjun-dai, joined us for the 1-day/1-night trip so he could return to his home to check on his fields and his family for a few days.

     In preparation they asked me if I wanted to walk, ride cycles, or take a taxi. I certainly had too much pride to request a taxi, knowing they would only use that method for my benefit, didn’t think walking would be efficient given our time constraints, and thought the 2 hour bike ride sounded quite and fun – not to mention it is the way they usually travel.

     Arjun-dai on one of the nicer sections of road

     Unfortunately, my decision making hadn’t accounted an afternoon with blazing sun and 95% humidity or for the need to ride/pushe our one-speed bicycles over an often flooded rock and dirt road, across sand dunes, and along cow paths in the forest (the reality show Survivor had nothing on this..).

     Parmila pausing for a rest as we crossed the sand….

      

     Somehow, after some informative detours and incredible views, several stops in the shade for guavas and chai, and with Rachanna leaking tears of soreness and exhaustion from straddling the rear rack of my bike for roughly 4 hours, we straggled into Harriya.

     

395. Expect the Unexpected… Nepal!

     August 21, 2014 7:51 am 14 Comments

     My five weeks volunteering with Vikalp Women’s Group has been a challenging journey that compelled me to grow in ways that I could never imagine. Although I anticipated a life-altering experience, it happened in a way I never expected. My time with Vikalp taught me to adapt to unforeseeable changes and to accept situations out of my control.

     My fellowship is now being redirected, and while my time with Vikalp is over, the opportunity and challenges have impacted me forever. Most of all, it is the people who have touched my life that will always be with me.

     This brief moment of time spent with the women of Vikalp gave me the gift of invaluable experiences. Through challenges, disappointment, and close reflection came inevitable growth. I will strive to never take for granted the value of friendship, the power of strong-willed women, and that the profound gentleness of a stranger can move someone to carry on. I learned to accept that things do not always go as planned and that lessons can be learned in different ways, ways you may have never expected.

     I have grown both personally and professionally and I owe this to the incredible people I have met. This experience has changed the way I want to approach life and how I respond to every challenge that will come my way. These women, their stories, and their struggles have taught me to embrace life.

     That being said – I am thrilled to share I have embraced the opportunity to continue my fellowship with Concern for Children and Environment – Nepal. CONCERN-Nepal has been working for the interests of children’s rights in Nepal since 1993 with the objective of advocating children’s rights and improving the social and natural environment of Nepalese children. This is the first year The Advocacy Project has partnered with CONCERN and the Peace Fellow who has been here the past 12 weeks has built a very strong partnership and friendship that I am excited to be part of.

     I will work with CONCERN in their mission towards the eradication of child labor, specifically for children working in dangerous brick kilns. CONCERN would like to focus on a rescue and rehabilitation program that would rescue children working in the brick kilns and provide them safe housing, education opportunities, and access to health and sanitation services.

     In this field it is vital to be flexible, adaptable and embrace challenges as opportunities to grow. I am excited for this new, unexpected opportunity and look forward to the next journey of my fellowship!

396. HARRIYA II: THE NESPEC TOUCH

     August 20, 2014 4:00 am 156 Comments

     During our trip to Harriya I was able to learn more about the work of the Nepal Social Development and People’s Empowerment Center, NESPEC (the COCAP member organization that is hosting me this summer in Gaighat). I knew that as part of their recent programming was devoted to agricultural and economic empowerment – specifically, they are helping poor local farmers learn to cultivate crops during non-traditional seasons. By providing them knowledge and “technology,” NESPEC creates an opportunity for farmers to earn a significant profit by providing crops out of season and helps them shift from being subsistence farmers to profitable farmers.

     As our trip progressed and we stopped at hamlet after hamlet to look at these bamboo domes, I learned a little bit about the farmers involved in the project. It turns out that many of the farmers come from the Tharu community. Tharus are one of Nepal’s indigenous groups and have been able to live in areas uninhabitable by other groups due to their malaria immunity (when malaria became manageable others settled the areas). For generations they previously owned and occupied much of the fertile land around the Triuga river in Udayapur District. Unfortunately, as a result of economic degradation the Tharus in this area have become landless and incredibly poor.
     

     formerly fertile fields that have been ruined by erosion from the surrounding mountains

      

     Due to a need for firewood local people have increasingly deforested the hills surrounding the Gaighat Valley. As a result of this deforestation there is significant runoff of soil from the surrounding mountains into the river beds, particularly during monsoon season. This “siltration” has raised the level of the river beds and ultimately consumed the once fertile land which the Tharus own and formerly occupied, making the land worthless and depriving them of their means of survival. Not only is NESPEC responsible for working with them to help them develop small cash crops, but Arjun-dai played a large role in helping them relocate once their lands were ruined, working with the local government to provide long-term leases with reasonable rates to these farmers on undeveloped government land.

     arjun-dai speaks with a Tharu farmer about his situation while local children look on

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

     Lastly, I met Selina. She is a 14 year old girl from a very rural mountain village who, along with her disabled brother, through some circumstances I’m unclear about ended up being trafficked into a circus in Bangalore, India. A Nepali anti-child trafficking agency rescued both her and her brother, and returned them to Nepal and helped to rehabilitate them. Selina now lives in Harriya in the Nepali equivalent of foster care, being integrated into a family who will care for her in exchange for help with their domestic work.

     Selina on a lunch break from working to transplant rice

     The NESPEC volunteers launched a campaign to raise funds for her schooling by requesting a single rupee each from a large number local community members. She is incredibly bright, and in addition to the schooling she is getting she earns a small sum which she is able to send to her parents in this remote community.

     Throughout the summer I have been impressed with NESPEC as an organization, but seeing many of their projects in person gave me both an increased understanding of the fundamental problems they are helping people overcome and an appreciation for the quality of their work.

397. Keeping Girls in School, Period.

     August 18, 2014 3:03 am Leave a Comment

     Menstruation. Yes I said it, menstruation. Even to a presumably American audience the word is dirty. It’s something that happens to half of the population between puberty and menopause. Yet, it’s something we definitely don’t talk about. It’s your coworker’s secret as she rushes to the bathroom with something hidden in her hand. It’s the reason all the girls were pulled to the side for a meeting in primary school. But what happens if you can’t afford the necessary provisions? What happens when there’s not even water or soap available at school? That’s the problem girls in Uganda face.

     The average cost of a small pack of pads is 2,500 Ugandan shillings or approximately a dollar. Now think of a context where many people make only a dollar a day. Where does that dollar go?

     When I was in Ugandan for the first time about a year and a half ago I came with that question and many others in my investigation of the provision of sanitation services for girls in schools. At that time when I asked government officials about the issue, their response was that is was a problem they had “heard of”, but failed to provide any confidence that they were addressing the problem. Flash forward a year and a half and Uganda is hosting its first ever annual Menstrual Hygiene Management (MHM) conference with increasing evidence on the amount of school girls and even female teachers who are missing attendence due to their period.

     The two-day conference brought together over 170 participants from many national ministries, water and sanitation NGOs, and private companies. The conference titled “Break the silence on menstruation: Keep girls in school” focused on topics from policy to local technology, such as AFRIpads and Days for Girls, which either sell or help girls make their own reusable sanitary pads.

     

     So how does all of this fit into GDPU’s water and sanitation program? For me one of the biggest takeaways was how we need to be aware of MHM when implementing accessible toilets in schools. For girls simply having a waste disposal in the toilet, private space, and ability to wash could dramatically change the embarrassment girls face. The second was that while the conference covered the policies set in place that “should” be providing the framework for MHM and even discussed the possibility of adding more policies, it really did not go in to how we can translate those policies in to actual budget allocation at the district level. One of the biggest challenges working within development in Uganda is just that, the country can write policies, but yet when you get down to the grassroots parish level the service provision just isn’t enough. There’s no silver bullet there.

     Although this conference can’t provide all the solutions it is a first step to show that Uganda is progressing and looking past the MDGs in 2015, where the focus was providing water and sanitation to the largest number in the easiest way. Instead as we look towards the post-2015 initiatives, issues such as MHM are coming to light. Therefore it is my hope that so too will the issue of accessibility for PWDs to water and sanitation come to greater visibility.

398. WOMEN AT WORK

     August 17, 2014 1:33 am 132 Comments

     In keeping with the spirit of Hannah‘s blog this week, and with the video we made about Rema Khawaja and the Ni’lin Women’s Demonstration, I have decided to focus this blog on women workers, and to give you some insights about gender and the labor market here.

     One of the things I respect so much about DWRC is their dedication to gender equity. DWRC places a special emphasis on building and recruiting women’s leadership at all levels of the labor movement, but especially at the top levels of union organizing, which is where the majority of decisions effecting women workers would be made. DWRC also holds regular training sessions for trade unions where women’s participation must be at least 30%. Additionally, DWRC encourages women to speak out at training seminars, and holds special classes to educate women workers about their rights, so that they can be more effective and confident when addressing conflicts in the workplace.

     Traditionally, trade unions are dominated by men, but DWRC is doing great work to challenge this space. Even the most progressive and socially conscious trade unions world-wide still operate under a pretense of collective fraternity and brotherhood. It’s hard to change this, and while one can argue that this is just an issue of semantics, the language alone still marks a distinct order that women do not belong to, and whether it is intentional or not, the language creates an immediate space that is inaccessible to women.

     Of course, it is so much more complicated than language alone. Access to equality for women in the workplace is not just about the words we choose to describe a collection of workers, its not just about the language of the legislation that does or does not protect women’s rights. Usually, it is more about what is unwritten and what is unsaid. It is about a social structure that exists world-wide where women are not raised to be leaders, where they are not encouraged to speak up and speak out, where they are not encouraged to be decision makers.

     This problem is not specific to Palestine, but throughout the Arab region we in the West tend to have a negative view of the possibility for women’s leadership to occur here, we project our own concept of freedom and rights and from this view we assume that women here have no choices, no opportunities.

     In some ways this is too true; but there are not a lot of choices or opportunities for Palestinians in general, and so of course this will negatively effect choices and opportunities for women and girls.

     But this is also completely contrary to what I see here, because here in Palestine I see a real opportunity for women’s leadership to emerge. Conflict creates the space for change, it creates a context where new ideas and movements emerge, where new norms can be born, and can be embraced.

     In Palestine more and more women are working as a result of the occupation. The Israeli crackdown on work permits for Palestinians, coupled with the rising consumer price index (in Palestine, prices of basic goods rose over 10% from 2007 to 2008) and high levels of chronic underemployment have forced more and more women to go out and work. True, the majority of these women are working in agriculture or in the informal sector, but the point is they are working, which provides the perfect opportunity to organize them.

     Moreover, when a woman works to contribute to her household’s needs, there is an opportunity for her to become a more active decision maker in her family’s future, there is a form of empowerment, of equality taking place, even if it so small that we don’t immediately recognize it, it exists and it is something that can grow, that can evolve.

     For herself, she may not have the opportunity to go back to school, she may not have the life that she wanted, that she would have choose for herself, but she may encourage her daughters to have their own life, she may think twice about the opportunities they can have, and as a contributor to the family’s income, she might feel more comfortable speaking up when it comes to the future of her own daughters.

     And for her sons, without consciously trying, she is already showing them the importance of women’s work. Something may change in them, in her sons, something can change that will effect their future decisions about how they treat and respect their own wife, their own daughters, and what kind of future they would want them to have.

     But, of course, I am being optimistic, of course, there are still problems.

     Women in Palestine already make the majority of university graduates, but women’s participation in the formal labor force is just 14%.

     Rising levels of unemployment and poverty (compounded by policies of occupation) are the primary culprits. World-wide in times of recession women are the first fired and last hired, and Palestine is no exception.

     Working women here also face the same discrimination that working women everywhere face, and I will be the first to admit that here, this discrimination is compounded by cultural barriers that keep women close to their family home.

     If a woman lives in Ramallah, then there are many local opportunities for her to engage in professional work, but if she lives in Nablus or Jenin, she would have to travel two, maybe three hours one way to Ramallah, she would have to pass through at least two checkpoints where she may be physically or verbally abused by Israeli soldiers, and she would probably spend a long time each day just sitting at the side of the road, waiting for the approval to let the bus she is traveling in go.

     Beyond the cultural norms regarding women working outside the home, most families don’t want their daughters exposed to this kind of emotional and psychological violence, and I can’t say I blame them.

     But on top of this, there are also structural restrictions regarding women’s work, which stem from the institutionalization of cultural norms. Article 101 of Section 7 of the Palestinian Labor Law prohibits women from performing “hazardous or hard works.”

     Article 101 of Section 7 also prohibits women from working at night, or working overtime hours during any stage of a pregnancy. Although article 103 and 104 of Section 7 guarantee women a ten-week, fully paid maternity leave, and provide further protection against any dismissal based on this leave, women in the Palestinian private sector routinely complain about being arbitrarily dismissed once they have announced a pregnancy, and there have been studies conducted confirming their complaints in the private Palestinian banking sector.

     And like almost everywhere else in the world, working women in Palestine receive a lower wage for the same work done. On average, women working in the West Bank make only 65% of their male counterparts salary. But in Gaza, women make 77% of their male counterparts salary. Why? BecauseHamas has actually embraced an equal pay for equal work scheme, and has actively recruited women to work in all sorts of public sectors, including as police officers.

     Of course, the situation of women and of women’s rights and freedoms is complicated here, and cannot be measured in terms of equal pay, nor should it be measured just by women’s participation rates in the workforce. There are mechanisms and motives behind every action regarding the rights of women and women’s work here, in Gaza and in the West Bank, from Fatah to Hamas.

     What we should keep in mind is at the end of the day whatever work women do here they should be contributing to the decision to do it. They should be encouraged to be leaders whether in the office or in the home, to contribute intellectually to the work they do, their opinions should matter, they should be listened to, and their contributions should be respected equally.

     Can this happen in Palestine? I believe it can and in my office here in Palestine it already does happen. But beyond this, on a wider-scale I see a space for respect and collaboration between men and women to evolve.

     And I think that on some level these kinds of relationships, the collaboration between men and women here, the level of respect between men and women here has always existed. It may at first appear as if there are vast cultural norms that cut equality short, and in some respects I agree, but I also think that equality may just be operating on a different level then it does at home, and we can’t expect things to be exactly the same.

     Already, in the time I have been here, I have met incredible women from all walks of Palestinian life. Women who are true leaders, who raise their children to be leaders. Women who are speaking up and speaking out about all kinds of issues, women who are not afraid to tell you what they think, and who are telling you what women here really want, which is sometimes incredibly different from what I, as a woman, want.

     ***To get the true feeling of Palestinian women at work, please watch the videos Hannah and I made about the women’s demonstration in Ni’lin
     

399. Women Cream Sweater – Crane Bird Print

     August 16, 2014 8:31 pm 90 Comments

     The appeal of this sweater from dresshead.com can be found in the prominent bird designs on the front. The birds are black and are portrayed as touching their beaks on top of a cream colored background. The contrast of the colors makes the design stand out clearly. As a result, the sweater is very eye-catching in any crowd, and the elegant birds easily remind those around the wearer of the type of nobility associated with birds on the shirt. However, the soft cream and round neck collar provide a soft and youthful look to any outfit that features this sweater as part of its ensemble. A woman wearing this shirt wants to stand out in a crowd, but she also wants an outfit that is sophisticated. This women cream sweater is also very practical. It is made from a high-grade thin wool material. This makes the sweater an excellent choice for staying warm, but unlike thicker wool, it will not be irritating against a woman’s skin.

     

400. PARMILA

     August 15, 2014 4:02 am 359 Comments

     I have been blessed with an adopted mother in Nepal (which everyone at NESPEC loves to tease me about). She has been responsible for helping me learn everything from to how to take a bath at the water pump while fully covered and in public view, to some horribly accented and broken Nepali. Our current project involves me trying to learn to cook Nepali-style.

     Twenty-three year old Parmila is from a village in Udayapur District a few hours away from Gaighat. She attended the local government schools there through the equivalent of high school completion, and is now waiting for the results of the national exit exam she recently took before enrolling in a bachelor degree program. In the meantime she is the chairperson of the active volunteer committee at NESPEC.

     She rents a room in the same house I live with 2 other friends (Susma and Karuna) in preparation to attend the local college. The room the 3 of them share is smaller than mine, has only a single bed, and contains not only all of their clothes and school things, but also all of their food and cooking apparatus – including a gas tank and burner!

     Parmila had a love marriage at 19 against the wishes of both families when she and her male best friend (from another caste) professed their love to each other and eloped. Subsequently her family (mother, father, and 3 brothers) has accepted their marriage. Unfortunately, her husband’s family has not. This causes particular challenges as typically in Nepali society upon marriage a bride “leaves” her family and joins her husband’s family, with her birth family having no future responsibility for her.

     Additionally, Parmila has an absolutely edible 4 year old daughter, Rachana. Rachanna sometimes stays with us in Gaighat but mostly stays with her maternal grandparents in Harriya and attends the local school. Luckily Parmila’s family has decided not to follow the traditional custom and is very close with both Parmila and her daughter. The financial and emotional support they provide is particularly important given the challenges she and her husband are facing.

     Parmila’s husband, like many other Nepalese men lacking job prospects, outsourced himself through a broker as unskilled labor to the Middle East. He has been in Dubai for the last 3 years trying to save enough money from his low wages to send home. On top of not seeing and barely communicating with his wife and daughter for 3 years, he is having much less success than hoped as a result of a fraudulent broker, and the family finds themselves in a very difficult financial situation.

     My friendship with Parmila has been one of the greatest blessings I’ve experienced during my stay her and I am honored to introduce her to you now.

401. THE MAIN EVENT

     August 14, 2014 4:02 am Leave a Comment

     This gigantic spider (maybe crab is a better description) suddenly appeared on my wall – about the size of a silver dollar – conspicuously close to my bed. Swallowing my initial concern and trying to remind myself of all the good things spiders do I took the following picture. Unfortunately I felt it lacked perspective and tried to figure out how to capture it in another shot. I thought using my toe might be a good idea, but not surprisingly as I moved it toward the spider (god knows what I was thinking) the spider ran away…. Right into plain site of my gecko roommate, Boy George. I was worried that BG might get killed by this fierce looking creature, but before I knew it the fight had been called. Let’s hear it for another rockin Saturday night in Gaighat!

      

      

      

      

      

      

402. A day in the life of a Peace Fellow

     August 8, 2014 4:49 am 3 Comments

     Every fellowship varies, but let me say this about mine: there is no such thing as an ordinary day. To begin with, I don’t always even know where I’m going to wake up. My time has been divided as follows:
     

     5 days: Kathmandu
     

     2 days: Biratnagar
     

     3 days: a hotel in Dhankuta
     

     1 week: a house in Dhankuta
     

     2 day: back to Biratnagar
     

     1 week: back to the house in Dhankuta
     

     1 week: a house in Sindhuwa
     

     2 days: a hotel in Hile
     

     1 day: back to the house in Sindhuwa
     

     1 week: back to the house in Dhankuta
     

     3 days: Biratnagar
     

     10 days: Kathmandu
     

     1 week: Vacation! – Chitwan, Pokhara, and the Annapurna Circuit
     

     2 days: Kathmandu
     

     2 days: Biratnagar
     

     1 week: Kathmandu
     

     Keep in mind that a few nights have disappeared in there because they were spent on overnight buses in transit between Biratnagar and Kathmandu (which is a 15 hour bus ride). There have been times when I have longed to just unpack and stay in one place, but it’s also been exciting and varied. I’m getting to see a lot of different sides of this work – in Kathmandu I’ve sat in on meetings with the Minister of Health and UNFPA. In Biratnagar I’ve sat in on hysterectomies in the hospital and talked to the leading gynecologist. In Dhankuta I’ve talked to district leaders, graphic designers, and journalists. In Sindhuwa I’ve talked to volunteers who are going door-to-door to advertise Care Women Nepal’s activities and to the women themselves who are suffering from third degree uterine prolapse.

     As I’ve discussed, prolapse is a particularly complicated issue, and I don’t think it’s possible to fully grasp the many layers of complexity without seeing the various levels at which it plays out. If you stay in the villages you can’t understand the greater policy environment. If you stick to the capital, you can’t understand the real life repercussions of those policies. You can’t talk to the doctors enacting (or failing to enact) your policies and you can’t meet the women whose lives are being affected.

     As for the more banal details… I drink a lot of tea. Like 3 cups a day (and that’s if we don’t visit anyone, where cups of tea are compulsory). I eat a lot of daal bhat. Daal bhat is cooked rice with lentil stew and some variety of sides. I eat it for lunch and dinner every day (except for when I occasionally treat myself to an ex-pat meal in the touristy neighborhood of Thamel in Kathmandu). I live with Indira and Yunesh, so we spend a lot of time together. Sometimes our work consists of meetings, sometimes we sit on my floor hashing out a program plan or a budget. Since we don’t exactly have an official office, or office hours, sometimes our work happens at 7am, sometimes at 8pm. When not in Kathmandu I’m pretty dependent on them, as there aren’t so many people who speak English in Dhankuta or the rural areas. During our weeks in Dhankuta we would go for 5am walks and Yunesh and I would debrief the World Cup games.

     The nature of the work changes, too. Sometimes it’s about networking – sitting in meetings while connections are made. Sometimes, like today, I settle into a coffee shop (I highly recommend the Himalaya Java chain which is around Kathmandu), order myself a chocolate muffin and some black coffee, and work on grant proposals. Sometimes Yunesh or Indira helps me take interviews with the beneficiaries of their program, trying to understand the effects that uterine prolapse has had on their lives. Sometimes the three of us sit down and go over a budget, or website edits, line by line.
     

     Moral of the story? The typical day in the life of a Peace Fellow is not typical at all.

403. Fake citizenship- How employers get away with child labor exploitation

     August 6, 2014 6:30 am 1 Comment

     To understand the perspectives and the current situation of the freed ex-kamlaris, Backward Society Education’s Executive Director Churna Chaudhary and I went on a trip to the Kamaiya village in Banke district. On the journey to comprehend the lifestyles of the freed kamlaris, we came across an inhuman practice that has apparently become a rising trend in the shops and restaurants of West Terai.

     On the way to Banke, we stopped at a small restaurant. Judging from the number of vehicles parked outside the restaurant, it was a pretty popular stop for the buses that take that route. When we sat down to eat, a boy, barely ten or eleven years of age, came to take our order. When Churna and I saw him, we were shocked. The Child Labor (prohibition and regulation) Act of 2000  states that the minimum age for any form of work is 14, and the minimum age for hazardous work is 16. When Churna and I both agreed that the child looks too young to be working at all, we decided to ask him his age. He refused to answer us, probably because the owner of the restaurant had warned him against doing so.

     Because we were really curious as to why a restaurant owner in such a popular location would openly violate the law and hire an under-age child to work, we confronted the owner. Churna told him that the child is too young to be working at the restaurant, he got very defensive and told us that the child’s citizenship certificate proves that he child is fifteen years old. When we told him that we were affiliated to Backward Society Education, he produced a citizenship certificate which stated that the young boy is fifteen years of age.

     Although both Churna and I were doubtful about the boy’s actual age, we decided to refrain from arguing further with the owner, because he had produced a proof which was backed by the Nepalese government, and there was no way for us to refute that. When we left the restaurant and got back on the car, Churna told me that many restaurants and grocery shops are issuing fake citizenship certificates for the children who work for them, so that they can escape prosecutions.

     This is an issue that is very difficult to tackle with, because official documents like the citizenship certificates are issued by the government, and this incident clearly proves that the government is not paying enough attention to a person’s identity while issuing the certificate. Another possibility is that the restaurant owner produced the certificate by fraud, without the government’s involvement. Whichever the case, this malpractice uncovers the lack of accountability in the part of government institutions, and the increasing misuse of power by employers who can afford to do so.

404. LOOSE ENDS

     5:08 am 120 Comments

     As the end of my fellowship nears, it is only fitting that I finally see rain. I’ve been in Macedonia for nine weeks now, and for those nine weeks this part of the world has experienced a heat wave and numerous wildfires. It doesn’t seem surprising, given my luck, that my trip to the beach in Ohrid was interrupted by a thunderstorm. I can’t complain, though; I had two beautiful days in the city. In case you’re interested, I have uploaded my pictures from Ohrid onto my flickr account.

     Our office was closed for most of the week, as were most businesses in Macedonia, for Ilinden or Saint Elijah’s Day, which is held in commemoration of the 1903 uprising against Ottoman rule. Ohrid was jammed with tourists from all over the country, including many who fled to the beaches in an attempt to escape the heat. Even though Sunday’s deluge cut my vacation short, the drop in temperature is a much welcome reprieve.

     The rest of YCC’s staff is now gearing up for Bitola Open City, which will take place in two weeks. They have managed to round up an impressive lineup of artists from the Balkans, so it’s unfortunate that I will have to miss out.

     I will spend my final week here working on the English language content onYCC’s website; my work to organize projects that introduce volunteering to a new audience in Macedonia is almost complete.

     Because this is my last week at the YCC office, this will likely be my last blog for AP. It’s been an exciting summer, and I want to take a moment to thank The Advocacy Project, the Institute for Sustainable Communities, and my local hosts, the Youth Cultural Center – Bitola, for this amazing opportunity. I can only hope that I have been able to contribute something positive to YCC’s body of work. YCC is truly an ambitious and worthy organization, and I’m sure they would welcome any future interest in their work. They can be reached via email at mkcbt@mt.net.mk.

     

405. 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.

406. THE LAST RIGHTS OF YOUSEF AHMAD YOUNIS AMIRA

     August 5, 2014 1:34 am Leave a Comment

     Yesterday morning Yousef Amira, the 17 year old from Ni’lin who was shot twice in the head with rubber coated steel bullets died in the hospital in Ramallah.

     

     Yousef was shot by Israeli soldiers during the funeral of ten year old Ahmad Musa.

     Its hard to figure out what to say, its hard to describe what Ni’lin has lost this past week.

     Yes, they have lost two young boys, but is that all, is this all they have lost?

     It may be the most important thing they have lost, it may be the most precious thing they have lost, but the loss in Ni’lin is so much greater than this. The loss is compounded by the loss of land, the loss of jobs, the loss of freedom, the loss of rights.

     In the international community we spend a lot of time talking about rights, we talk about basic human rights, we talk about a rights based approach to development, we talk about securing human rights, about giving dignity to all. We spend a lot of money to be educated about these things, but everything you really need to learn about rights you can learn in Ni’lin.

     In Ni’lin, people have lost their rights. They have no right to stand up to say that Israel cannot build a wall on their land. They have no right to stand up and say they refuse to have the only entrance to their village be through an Israeli-controlled tunnel, they have no right to stand up and say they refuse the economic degradation that the wall and the tunnel will impose on them, that they refuse to lose their jobs because they will be unable to get to work, that they refuse to lose a sense of security for their children, their children who they love with all their hearts.

     They have lost their rights, and yet they are refusing to accept this loss, they are refusing the Israeli bulldozers that work on their land, refusing the soldiers that occupy their village, that shoot their kids, and over what? Over the loss of their rights.

     And for their part, their children refuse to just sit and watch as their future disappears, as their land disappears, as the life that they know, the only life that they know, the life that they love, their life on the land of Ni’lin is taken from them.

     They have no right to say anything. They have no right to go to demonstrate, to show the world what they are losing, and now to demonstrate means to risk losing your life.

     These rights are worth fighting for, so for all of us who believe in rights, why aren’t we doing more to protect the rights of the people in Ni’lin?

     If we believe ourselves to be a part of an international community dedicated to promoting rights, then why aren’t we doing more to protect these rights?

     All I know is right now, there is almost no one protecting the rights of the people of Ni’lin.

     At Yousef’s funeral procession from Ramallah to Ni’lin the Palestinian Authority closed the road from the hospital in Ramallah to Ni’lin, holding up the funeral procession for 2 hours.

     I thought the PA was supposed to help protect the rights of Palestinians, but it appears that in Ni’lin, they don’t even have the right to bury their children.

     The PA claimed the roadblock was to prevent Hamas supporters from attending the funeral in Ni’lin, and arrested five people because they were carrying Hamas flags.

     But the PA also refused to permit anyone at the roadblock to take pictures or video, and I was harassed by a PA security agent who demanded that I give him my SD card and video tape.

     

     

     

     

     “No,” I told him, “I don’t have to.”

     “Show me what you have on your camera,” he insisted.

     “I don’t have to,” I told him again, “You told me to turn off the camera and I did, khalas,” I said.

     “You don’t have the right to speak to me in that tone,” he replied.

     This is all getting too crazy for me, now none of us have rights, and I can’t even keep track of which rights we are all losing.

     I have been going to Ni’lin for two months, and as intense as things have been there I have never once, not once, been told by the Israeli Army to hand over a tape, or even turn off my camera for that matter.

     True, the Israeli Army once shot Hindi’s cousin Ahmad in the hand with a rubber bullet, aimed for the video camera (which he was using at the time) but they have never come up to us and told us we don’t have the right to film.

     But the PA, the PA who is supposed to be the voice of a democratic Palestine, the future of a free Palestine, wants me to hand over tapes of kids from Ni’lin sitting down in the road to protest the roadblock preventing them from burying the body of their brother, their cousin, their friend?

     

     When did grief, when did loss, when did the death of two young boys become so ultimately political, and why?

     Do rights politicize everything?

     Why should it be this way? Why can’t it be about what it is, the simple fact of what is right and what is wrong, the loss of two young lives, the loss of two kids, two innocent, unarmed kids.

     When the funeral procession was finally allowed to move, the residents of Ni’lin were determined to show the world, or at least whoever was watching, what the loss means to them.

     When we reached the entrance to the village the Israeli Army was waiting, armed with live ammunition, attack dogs, and an industrial strength water canon.

     

     

     

     They had occupied two houses next to the village entrance, the smell of teargas was in the air.

     

     But yesterday, nobody needed any help to cry. 6,000 men, women, and children walked past the army to bury a child in the land he was born in, in the land that belongs to him, in the land of Ni’lin.

     

     

     

     I didn’t go inside the cemetery. In so many ways it is too much for me to deal with, and like I said before when writing about Ahmad’s death, these are not my kids. Although I know Ni’lin appreciates all the international support that came to share their loss, its still their loss, and I at least can give them that right.

     And so I stood outside the gate, playing with the kids, hoping that their future will include some basic rights.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     *****I just wanted to add that all of my thoughts on rights were ultimately inspired by Hindi and Viv, who gave me the following quote for an Advocacy Project press release last night: “Israel has been using excessive violence since the start of Ni’lin’s peaceful protests. Their violence has resulted in the death of 2 boys. These murders have left the village in shock and sadness, but we will not let it break us. We know we are standing up for a right cause, which is our land and our future. We are resisting one of many Israeli measures which are considered illegal under international law. Israel may have access to the use of violence, but we have the determination to stand up against their violations of basic human rights. This is what unifies the village and our peaceful struggle will not end until our rights are being met.”

     You can read more interviews with Hindi by following the below links:

     http://i2.democracynow.org/2008/8/1/israeli_troops_kill_two_palestinians_in

     http://electronicintifada.net/v2/article9731.shtml

407. Strength Through Community

     August 4, 2014 12:02 pm 65 Comments

     I recently visited the Vikalp field office in Chhotaudaipar, a rural area located three hours from the Vadodara main office. I spent the weekend getting to know the lively staff and dynamic community while learning about the different programs Vikalp facilitates.

     The programs and activities at the Chhotaudaipar office focus primarily on HIV/AIDS prevention and sexual health education. The program reaches out to marginalized groups such as transgender individuals, female sex workers, and people who are HIV positive.

     Although a small office it is certainly full of life, the staff is energetic and passionate about their work. The staff includes community outreach workers, counselors and a project manager. The outreach workers engage with the community referring individuals to Vikalp, while the counselors provide information on HIV/STI prevention, referrals for testing, sexual health education, and supportive counseling to those in need. The project manager is busy coordinating and teaching various educational classes and facilitating focus group discussions. Each of them radiate acceptance and it is through all of their dedication a Vikalp community group has been created in Chhotaudaipar.

     This community is vibrant, diverse and full of energy. There is laughter and singing, with various people coming and going, the atmosphere is open and supportive. Both staff and individuals are free to be exactly who they are and discuss various issues without fear of judgment or discrimination. Everyone within this community cares for and supports one another. The project manager explained if an individual has an issue and the office isn’t open, or counselors aren’t available they reach out to one another for support.

     Vikalp would like to expand by creating another community group at the Vadodara main office for LBTI individuals. Vikalp would follow a similar approach as they have in Chhotaudaipar. To create this community group Vikalp would identify potential leaders, outreach workers, and provide trainings on empowerment and human rights. The goal is to create a supportive, strong community group of empowered LBTI individuals coming together to assert and advocate their rights. As awareness grows, attitudes will change, and individuals who face discrimination and isolation will have a network to reach out to, a safe place to be open and a community to belong to.

     The Chhotaudaipar office is a powerful example of strength through community.

     I look forward to sharing profiles of some of the spirited, inspiring staff and community members from Chhotaudaipar soon!

408. A THIRST FOR KNOWLEDGE

     August 3, 2014 6:07 am Leave a Comment

     Kathmandu’s youth are an ambitious bunch—their strong desire for training and skill development reminds me of the North American grad school grind. When I lived in Central America, nobody cared about the degrees that might or might not hang from my wall, but here, identity and self-esteem appear to be much more tied up in educational attainment.

     The practical result of this preoccupation is wonderful for a book lover like me. The capital is awash with quality English-language bookstores selling (comparatively) cheap Indian editions of the latest fiction, biography, history, reportage, and business bestsellers. A fair chunk of my summer budget has been reserved for stocking up before returning to pricey D.C.

     But the reality of Nepal’s education system does not square with the enthusiasm of its students. Indeed, for a nation of top-notch bookshops, it’s hard to believe that the literacy rate is a measly 54%. Only 81% of primary school-aged children actually go to school, as indicated by 10-year-old rickshaw attendant that took my seven rupees this morning. At the secondary level, the enrollment rate drops to 60%. (Source: UNESCO)

     In rural areas, schools and teachers have been targeted by Maoist forces. Schools themselves are viewed as recruitment grounds and teachers are seen as symbols of government authority. Students are forcibly sent to indoctrination camps while teachers that fail to show the requisite support are beaten or killed. If parents or school officials do not cooperate, the school is bombed. It’s impossible to calculate the terrible toll that the 10-year conflict has taken on rural educational infrastructure and skilled human resources.

     As for higher education, Nepali universities are incredibly politicized, a situation that has been exploited by political parties and resulted in a great deal of wastage. This is much more serious than what you might associate with a politically active campus stateside: in the last two months I’ve read about everything from sit-ins to riots protesting things like test scores, degree equivalence, the political affiliation of a professor, and the right to enter the next level of study. Indeed, it’s a miracle that any classes actually take place.

     Little wonder, then, that most intelligent and ambitious Nepalis are obsessed with the idea of studying abroad. Approximately half of the newspaper and billboard advertising space in Kathmandu is given over to “Education Consultants” of dubious quality that promise miracles like I-20s for broke students and sky-high GRE scores for folks that can barely speak English.

     

     But what about the segment of the population for whom leaving the country is not a realistic option? What about the Dalit? Of course, the fact that most Dalits are poor and live in rural areas means that they are less likely to attend school in the first place. Those that actually make it to school are subjected to humiliating abuse, exclusion, and discrimination. The result of this situation is shocking: according to the Feminist Dalit Organization (FEDO), the literacy rate in the Dalit community is only 16%; for Dalit women, it is an abysmal 7%.

     Recently, the government has made promises and taken small steps to improve Dalit access to education. Not surprisingly, these initiatives have been subject to corruption and have not had much of an impact. JMC has documented cases of scholarship money intended for Dalit pupils being withheld and misspent by school authorities. Moreover, fees are a small portion of the cost of attending school: expenses like uniforms, salary supplements, lunch, and foregone labor put basic education out of reach for many Dalit families.

     Increasing the access to and quality of education in Nepal is an absolutely critical component of the Dalit movement’s agenda for change. Education is a right in itself, but it is also a platform for awareness and assertion of other rights. Literacy broadens horizons and critical thinking skills facilitate challenges to the status quo.

     In this sense, education is a catalyst for long-term change within the Dalit community itself and between Dalits and higher-caste Nepalis. Along with reservations and land reform, education is one of the key areas where Dalit activists are pushing for far-reaching reform. For the sake of Nepal’s long-term development, let us hope that the powers that be heed their call.

409. STATE OF THE ART FACILITY

     August 2, 2014 5:00 am Leave a Comment

     

     One of the chapter’s of Raka battle with traveler’s diarrhea (mentioned in a previous blog) involved us being convinced to admit her to the district hospital so she could receive all night care in case of any emergency that might arise. We decided this was a very logical thing to do. However, as the overnight bag started to include bedsheets, a towel, and soap, the reality of our context and the realistic prospects of the district hospital set in and I became ready to abort the mission. Unfortunately, the momentum was already under way…

     As we pulled into the compound dotted with trees encased by large cement donunts-cum-park benches and worked our way up to the “urgent care” ward, I realized I should have followed my instincts. The damp, stark rooms were littered with rickety hospital beds that evoke images of WWII. I was assured the bathroom was clean, but asked to see it anyway, knowing its state was crucial as we would be spending a considerable amount of time there. When I saw the stopped-up eastern toilet littered with a few discarded pieces of bloody gauze I quickly realized there was no way I was going to let Raka stay here.
     
     Ward of District Hospital

     

     In contrast to my typical efforts to be unconditionally accepting and to try to function from a place of “if it’s good enough for them, it’s good enough for me,” I mumbled a feeble excuse about “more privacy at home” and used the full strength of my will to put our entourage in reverse down the hill, through the center of town, and back home.

     Once Raka’s crisis had passed, I reflected on this the significance of all this. First I felt really lucky that I hadn’t needed any medical assistance last summer. Then I spent some time integrating that this is, in fact, the most advanced medical facility in the district. Gaighat, unlike much of the rest of the country, is not very remote as it is completely accessible by road – so I can only being to imagine what the hospitals in such places would be like. I also spent time trying to reconcile the fact that I had refused to let Raka stay at a place that is a source of solace for so many – a place that some hill-bound district residents spend days traveling to for treatment.

     Little did I know when I left the hospital compound that in the blink of an eye I would be spending quite a large amount of time there over several days attending a mobile gynecological/UP camp and getting to know the hospital in more intimate ways that I would have ever wished.
     
     The “Clean” Eastern Style Toilet

     

410. THE ROLLER COASTER OF CONCEPTS AND PROPOSALS

     August 1, 2014 4:04 am Leave a Comment

     With a great proposal about voter awareness in hand (written as the product of our regional meeting in Jhapa), I finally arrived in Kathmandu and began to meet with various International-NGOs. Unfortunately the end result of those meetings was disappointing. It turns out that as great as our idea was (which was confirmed by the organizations I met with), we had missed the boat for election-related funds. Even though there is still an intense need to reach and inform people in regional areas, all funds appropriated for such purposes have long since been committed. Lesson one for working with INGOs: no matter how you dice it, the funding process takes A LONG time and to get money for any project requires starting way ahead of schedule.

     The good news is that after some extensive discussions about our concept of voter awareness and the funding challenges we faced, the COCAP head office in Kathmandu is keen to launch a slightly transformed voter awareness campaign using its extensive body of volunteers. At this point, the tentative plan is to utilize a group of volunteers from within the existing body in Kathmandu and to also bring in 5-10 volunteers from each of the four Focal Point Regions. This will not only allow these young people to meet each other and work together to develop regionally appropriate awareness sessions, but it will also help strengthen the volunteer base and COCAP’s presence outside of Kathmandu.

     So, all in all, some important and hard lessons learned – still with a sliver lining. Stay tuned for more updates as the plan is finalized!

411. Sending Your 10 year old Daughter Away to work Part 1: Between a rock and a hard place

     July 31, 2014 6:50 am Leave a Comment

     SWAN’s campaign to eliminate the Kamalari practice has seen much success in the past decade with families willingly bringing back their daughters from work. SWAN has also been helping support the education expenses of ex-Kamalaris, and is also providing some form of livelihood support to their families. However, there are still a lot of families in Dang who see no other alternative to sending their children to work in order to survive. In order to comprehend the tribulations of such a family who had sent a daughter to work, I asked one of SWAN’s Social Mobilizers, Sita Chaudhary, to introduce me to such a family.

      
     The hut where Ram Dwari Chaudhary lived with her two sons and daughters was empty when we arrived. Upon asking the neighbors about her whereabouts, they told us she could be collecting grass somewhere or working in one of the two mills in the village. We decided to look for her in the mills, and as we headed out to look for her, Sita, who had been in touch with the family for the last 4 years, filled me up on a bit of Ram Dwari’s background. Ram Dwari lost her husband, Lahanu Chaudhary, three years ago to an illness and she has been raising four children by herself since then. The oldest daughter, Sharmila Chaudhary, who is now 10 years old, was sent to Kathmandu to work for a family right after her father’s death. The oldest son, 15 years old Biren Chaudhary, seemed to have gone off to work somewhere as well. After we found the first mill to be empty, we headed over to the second one where we caught up with Ram Dwari, along with her five year old son who was taking a nap on one of the weighing scales.

      
     Ram Dwari did not speak Nepali fluently, nor did I Tharuhati so I requested Sita to act as an interpreter. I asked all the questions I had on my mind, and a few more: why send a 7 year old girl to a complete stranger’s home hundreds of miles away; how does she feel having a daughter work as Kamalari; how does she handle her finances and support her children; what is in store for her remaining children; what would it take to bring her daughter back? After my conversation with Ram Dwari, with the help of Sita, the story that emerged seemed to echo a lot of similarity with what a lot of disadvantaged families are still facing in the region, which compels them to send their children to work either in domestic servitude or as laborers.

      
     Sharmila was already working as a “helping hand” for someone else in her village by the time she was seven. Ram Dwari recalls that after the death of her husband, people with whom her husband had made arrangements to send her to work “relentlessly” came to her in order to take Sharmila away. As apparent in most of Kamalari cases, given the families economic hardships and the offer made by the employers Ram Dwari felt like she had no choice but to send Sharmila to Kathmandu to work. The employers promised to pay Rs.500 (USD 5.2) per month and provide Sharmila with good living arrangements, clothes, meals and a good education. For someone who makes a living managing a small plot of land she owns and doing seasonal work of maybe 3-4 days per month where she earns 300 rupees per day, not having to worry about the upbringing of a daughter while she was “taken care of” seemed to hold its own merits.
     Ram Dwari’s older son, Biren Chaudhary, had gone off to the neighboring district of Rolpa where he was working as a laborer. Biren had been working since he was 10 years old, and never had the opportunity to get any form of education, and for the past three years had to take on the responsibilities of his father. Similarly, Ram Dwari’s younger daughter, Indra Kumari, had also been sent off to work as a Kamalari a few months ago, but she returned in less than a week as she “did not like the work that she was doing”. Ram Dwari mentioned that since Biren and Sharmila are already working, she would not force the two younger children to earn money and that she would educate them “as much as possible”.

      
     When I enquired Ram Dwari about her daughter’s wellbeing, she said she could not tell for sure as her daughter was “very far” and she only talks to her when Sharmila comes back home, once a year. Ram Dwari, after a moment’s pause, seemed to be consoling herself rather than answering us, when she goes on to say, “I have not been there. I trust what they (employers) say. She will come to visit me soon, but it is better for her there than here. I do want to bring her here, but even her brother says it is better for her over there.” She went on to laud the employers “generosity” by mentioning that they even had promised to arrange for her marriage, when the time comes. However, when asked if she thought that would be in her best interest, she simply replies, “Of course not!” I wanted to know if Ram Dwari knew whom Sharmila was working for, to which she pointed out a house in a distance and said, “She works for the daughter of that house, taking care of their small child.”

      
     Turns out, Sharmila’s employer, Shanta Hamal, used to live in the same village and had moved to Kathmandu after marriage. Sharmila was recruited to work in Kathmandu by Shanta’s mother who still lived in the village. Even though the employers were from the same village, and still had roots there, Ram Dwari had no clear idea whom Sharmila was working for. I asked her if she wanted to talk to Sharmila, as Ram Dwari had mentioned it had been a considerable period since she spoke to her. Ram Dwari said she wanted to talk, but did not have the phone number. Therefore, we decided to go to meet Shanta Hamal’s mother, so that Ram Dwari could talk to her daughter, and we could talk to Shanta Hamal and her mother about employing a 10 year old child.

412. AHMAD HUSAM YOUSIF MUSA

     1:35 am Leave a Comment

     When I was writing my last blog it was 3 AM, Hindi had left for Ni’lin hours earlier and I had no updates.

     I kept thinking to myself, what if it is a kid that I know, should I mention it could be a kid that I know, does it matter if it is a kid that I know, is it more effective, is it more real if it is a kid that I know?

     Shouldn’t we care just the same about any kid, every kid, whether we know them or not?

     And still, as I added pictures one by one to my blog, clicking on each link and copying and pasting and uploading, an endless process it seemed, I kept thinking, what if it is this kid, what if it is this kid?

     And so today it has been confirmed that it is this kid.

     Already, it was one of my favorite kids, whether I knew him or not, all of these kids are my favorite kids, but now I can tell you that this kid, this kid, this is a kid that I know.

     When I took these photos last Friday the army had blockaded the main entrance, again. We stood in the road, they fired teargas and rubber coated steel bullets at us.

     “Yalla jheesh!” he yelled at me. “You yalla, jheesh” I yelled back.

     He smiled at me and gave me the two finger V. Everyone stood there, in the road for a while, and finally we turned around to leave. He was sitting on the top of a brick wall, watching the army, I waved goodbye, and once again he gave me the V.

     

      

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

413. Test

     July 30, 2014 6:07 am 232 Comments

     Test1 column
     Test 2 column

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:14,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”3″,”block”:”heading”,”text”:””,”heading”:”h2″},{“id”:7,”block”:”layout”,”layout”:”4-4-4″,”childs”:[[{“id”:”10″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”Test1 column
     “,”class”:””}],[{“id”:”11″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”Test 2 column
     “,”class”:””}],[]]},{“id”:12,”block”:”layout”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”13″,”block”:”image”,”source”:””,”scale”:”100%”,”position”:”center”}]}]}[/content-builder]

414. FIRES IN BITOLA

     5:08 am Leave a Comment

     As I left work last Monday, I noticed that the plaster on our office, which usually has an off-white tint, looked yellow. This was strange, but I shrugged off the change in color as a hallucination; after all, the weather here has been so hot over the past few weeks that a few visions wouldn’t surprise me. It was around four in the afternoon, and with the heat wave in the Balkans well underway I decided to take a taxi back to my apartment. During the ride home, I noticed a cloud of black smoke rising from behind one of the mountains to my right. There was a fire, but it was likely in a village far from the city. It was nothing to be concerned about, I thought.

     Two hours later, after my afternoon nap, I turned on the news. I can understand bits and pieces of Macedonian, enough to figure out that there was a wildfire in the area and that the fire was causing a series of explosions in the mountains (the mountains surrounding Bitola saw heavy fighting during World War I, and the fire detonated several bombs buried in the area). As night fell, I could only see smoke from my balcony, so I decided to head into town.

     The atmosphere in town was bizarre. I’ve never really understood why anyone would party during a natural disaster, but Bitola’s nightlife didn’t miss a beat during the fire: the bars were open and techno music was blaring as the town’s residents paced back and forth along Marshall Tito Street. The only thing different was that some bars had their televisions tuned to the news coverage. When I asked whether I should be concerned about the fire, the responses I received were mixed. I heard everything from “yes, this is serious” to “don’t worry, it’s far away.”

     Around midnight I decided to return to my apartment, which probably wasn’t the best decision I’ve ever made. When I arrived home, I noticed that a thick smoke had crept into my apartment and that flames could be seen on the mountain next to my complex. It was clear that the fire wasn’t far away.

     What followed was a long night of mingling with my neighbors, watching television, and trying to stay awake for fear of smoke inhalation. (In case you were wondering, Macedonian TV airs fantastic movies at four in the morning; I hadn’t seen Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze in more than a decade.) Luckily, the fire was isolated by dawn and under control by noon with help from Turkey and Slovenia.

     I feel very fortunate to have survived the blaze without injury. Everything I own smells like it’s been sitting in front of a campfire all summer, but many people in the area weren’t so fortunate: several people lost homes and summer cottages and at least one person died of smoke inhalation. Right now, I’m just looking forward to clean clothes when I return to Indiana in two weeks. A drop in the temperature would also be nice.

     

415. A Call to Arms Against Child Labor

     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.

416. KIDS IN NI’LIN

     July 29, 2014 1:36 am Leave a Comment

     I was all set to write about the West Bank municipality strike which just took place here. Today I spent my day in Azzoun, interviewing municipal workers about their demands and meeting with union organizers. On the trip home to Ramallah, which is long and hot and extended by two unnecessary checkpoints, I thought all about what I was going to write, I had everything planned out in my head, but that’s the problem in Palestine, nothing can ever be what you plan for, nothing can ever be what you want it to be.

     When I got home Hindi told me a 10 year old boy was shot dead in Ni’lin. He told me the kid was shot in the head with live ammunition by an Israeli soldier. I don’t know how to react to this. I don’t know how to explain what I feel, and this is not my child, I can’t even imagine, I can’t even begin to comprehend what his own mother feels.

     I read things here constantly that break my heart. I see things that make me want to pack up and go home. I have done hours upon hours of interviews where I can’t even imagine the life the person talking to me has lived, even though they are sitting right next to me and I know it is all too true.

     I try to stay focused on labor, on economics, on the rising consumer price index, I try to direct the interviews to social protection, but Palestinians have too many stories to tell.

     There are so many stories, so many heartaches, so many problems, and there are only so many battles you can pick. How do you choose what means most to you when everything here is so inexplicably valuable?

     For me, my battle is Ni’lin.

     Ni’lin has my heart here, and although Ni’lin does align with my Advocacy Project plan for DWRC, the truth is I keep going back to Ni’lin because I am in love with those kids.

     Palestine has a lot of cute kids, and one can argue that kids everywhere are cute, but the ones in Ni’lin, I don’t know what else I can say about them, I don’t know how I can describe them to you, I don’t know how to tell you how they make me want to never leave Ni’lin.

     I have spent a lot of time thinking about how to get funding for a long term project focused on the kids in Ni’lin. I have thought about getting every kid I meet in Ni’lin to tell me a story. I have thought about asking every kid in Ni’lin what they want. I have thought about building a youth center in Ni’lin where every kid can have access to internet, blogs, and video cameras. I have thought about just letting them show me what they see, letting the world see what they see, letting the world see that soon enough, if the construction of the wall does not stop that these kids in Ni’lin won’t see what they see, that what they see will be forever altered, that it will be forever changed.

     I wonder if the wall will change them. I wonder if they will stop being what they are, if they will stop being who they are, or if it will make them more of what they are, more of who they are. I wonder how they can still be kids, how they can still find the time to laugh and play, how they find the energy to shout “hello! what is your name?” every time I encounter one I haven’t had the pleasure to meet yet, and how the ones I have met all can remember who I am, and are as equally happy to see me as I am to see them.

     I wonder where they get this from, where they could possibly find this happiness, this trust, this love, but then I guess it comes from Ni’lin. Even now, as the kids that they are, they know what they have. And even now, as the kids that they are, they are not willing to let it go.

     These are kids that know what is happening, that know what they are losing, and that know what has already been lost.

     There is no excuse for this death. There is no excuse for what is happening in Ni’lin. There is no excuse for this loss of a life that should be able to be described as barely having been lived.

     But kids in Ni’lin have already lived lives that are beyond the years they hope they can continue to live, that I hope they can continue to live, beyond the years that one of them will no longer live.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

417. Association Tifsa: an Amazigh Spring

     July 28, 2014 2:24 pm Leave a Comment

     “Do you know what tifsa mean”?. “It means Spring, it is a beautiful name”.

     With these words the newly-elected president of Association Tifsa – Saidia Oubaala – explained to me the Amazigh word that weavers in Ain Leuh have chosen for the new non-profit they have decided to set up in order to infuse new lymph into their Amazigh heritage and raise greater awareness about the issues they face everyday as both women and artisans striving to perpetuate an art which is currently endangered and at risk of extinction.

     Discretion and tact have earned Saidia great respect among the women at the cooperative, despite having joined it more recently as compared to other senior members. These qualities – and the fact that Saidia is able to read and write in both French and Arabic – made her appointment almost a natural choice. The pragmatism that the women here possess had also a role in the decision: being not married, she would also be able to dedicate greater time to the management of the Association. Applauses accompanied the election, with meskina Saidia hiding her face as if a little bit ashamed of so much attention.

     

     And to testify to the intention of expanding the scope of the activities of the Association beyond the walls of the cultural center, the women voted for the appointment of Hassan Mestour to the Board of Directors, in the quality of treasurer. Hassan, who is currently employed as manager and translator for a nearby tourist facility, has traded a safer life in the US to make his way back to Ain Leuh – indeed, an oddity in the geography of migration and a testimony of his strong attachment to this land. Strongly committed to bring the potential of the Middle Atlas together, Hassan tirelessly encourages Ain Leuhers to look “at the wider picture” – in his own words – and to overcome shortsightedness and individualism to the benefit of the whole community.

     

     Nor could I fail to mention the efforts that all the members put together and that made this accomplishment possible and makes me hope for a bright future ahead for Tifsa, that can count upon the expertise and determination of the weavers to keep their women’s heritage alive. As in the words of one of its most accomplished members, master weaver and trainer, Khadija: “I hope to be able to weave until I will have a last sparkle of light in my eyes”.

     Finally, and in order to give a small taste to my followers of what kind of activities Association Tifsa is going to propose to its visitors, here are some of the first series of pictures that document my experiments at the loom with my rug nujum-lleil – night stars.

     

     First day has, of course, entailed preparation of the warp that we then proceeded to mount of the loom.

     Mounting the warp has already offered some revealing insights on the symbolism associated with Amazigh weaving and its strong correlation with the life cycle and fertility: I have discovered that in my failure to correctly fix one thread to the hmaar nèra (the mechanism designed to keep the threads separated – and yes – for those who study Arabic – it is called “donkey”), I will be apparently blessed in my future with just one baby, a girl.

     

     But more about it in my next entry, in which I will go specifically into the process and cover thoroughly all the blesses and curses that my mistakes at the loom will draw upon me. In the meantime, I will be blessed with the adorable Fatima practising her weaving skills with my hair…

     

      

      

418. DEPENDING WHERE YOU LOOK

     2:15 am Leave a Comment

     Perthshire, Scotland is beautiful with its mirror-like lochs and deep forested glens. Ancient stone fences crisscross the hilly land while sheep and cattle graze peacefully on its grassy slopes. Home to Queen’s View, one of the most spectacular vistas in the UK, it is no surprise the area is big draw for tourists. This is especially true of Pitlochry—a picturesque village where people come to take in the lovely scenery and enjoy the quaint shops and cafes.

     But, Pitlochry is also home to another scene: Only a few strides away from a pretty little car park—full of tourists on the day of our visit—is a dirt road leading up into the trees. If one continues up this road—minding their feet to avoid stumbling over the potholes—they will come across several trailers in varying stages of decay—as if forgotten by the rest of the world, which in fact, one could argue they have been.

     This is the home of a Gypsy Traveller camp that has been in place since 1947. According to our university educated hosts (and residents of the site), the site was originally set up as an assimiliation experiment by the Scottish Dept. of Health, the local authority and Church of Scotland. Its primary purpose was to see if it were possible to “eradicate the ‘Tinker Clan’” through making them useful to society.

     The deal was that if children attended school—as they obviously did (remember our university educated hosts)— then properties were to be upgraded by 1962. It was also agreed that electricity could be added at a later date.

     Unfortunately, none of this ever happened. Instead, in 1947, the Department of Health built the wooden huts to the lowest possible standard, stating that “normal standards need not apply.” This resulted in four sub-standard, one-bedroom wooden huts to house four families. One of these families eventually consisted of nine children and their two parents: eleven people living in a one-bedroom building without hot water or electricity. Eventually, to offset terrible overcrowding and the inaction of the government, residents provided caravans for themselves.

     Since that time little has changed. No improvements have ever been made to account for the ravages of time: trailer floors are buckling, roofs are leaking, and the unpaved dirt road to the site is pitted with rocks and potholes making it impassable in winter. Promised electricity and hot water have yet to make an appearance.

     Even more compelling than this scene of neglect are the lived experiences of the residents – most of whom are descendants of the original families placed in the experiment. Their stories paint a grim picture of having to endure unspeakable conditions due to the discrimination and subsequent neglect by officials to fulfill their part of the bargain: namely to provide upgrades and install even the most basic of services. This is made even more frustrating given that the original resident of the site is a decorated war veteran who proudly served his country yet is now treated like a second-class citizen (a practice not unique to Scotland, I know, but it does not make it right).

     It is difficult to believe that one of the wealthier councils in Scotland cannot provide even the most basic of improvements for these people. With one of the largest general funds in Scotland, surely some of that wealth could be allocated toward the Pitlochry site?—especially when it is obvious the money that is poured into attracting tourists (an example being the abundant flower baskets hanging in the car park leading up to the site). But what about equitable attention and care for its own residents? Residents the government surely has an obligation to care for, especially given their complicity in the experiment.

     Until then, the residents of Bobbin Mill continue to go without electricity and hot water—services most inhabitants of the developed world enjoy (it is interesting to note that despite the absence of these basic services, residents are still charged for them via council tax).

     While money alone cannot take away the years of neglect and wrongdoing, it can go a long way toward ensuring that future residents have a more equitable chance at accessing the same opportunities the wider community enjoys, while also ensuring the preservation of their culture and race.

     Yes, Perthshire Scotland is beautiful… Depending where you look.

     _____

     This blog was compiled with the help of several sources who shall remain nameless, but forever appreciated for sharing their stories and granting me their trust. Any errors or inaccuracies are purely the fault of the author – me.

419. UTERUS WHAT?!?!?

     July 24, 2014 4:05 am Leave a Comment

     Frequently my conversations in Nepal involve a lot of gesturing from both sides. The less English someone speaks, the more intense this gesturing becomes. One of the first evenings I was in Gaighat I had a particularly notable conversation of this sort where my landlady Sabita-ji tried to explain a pressing concern on her mind. The conversation began with the words “women, Nepal, health, and bad” repeated in various configurations as she tapped her chest and said “health worker” until she was sufficiently convinced that I understood her meaning.

     She then moved on to repeating something I couldn’t understand at all followed by “dere samosia” (big problem) while pointing to her abdomen and making a number of other strange gestures that made me think of a baby being born. After about 15 repetitions I said “uterus prolapse?” taking a guess at what she was trying to communicate but having no idea what it meant. She confirmed that was correct and continued the conversation by dragging 11-year old Eliza into the kitchen to sit on the floor with us to interpret as best she could for a subject she clearly was uninterested in and didn’t understand.

     Fast forward several weeks to the return from my business meeting in Jhapa. Binot-ji, the president of Community Development Forum (CDF) looked at me with a very serious expression and said “Come Lahan. Meeting. Important,” followed by a pause and then “uterus prolapse.” This caught me off guard, and I stammered “Ok…” After a subsequent conversation in Nepali Arjun-dai and Prakash-ji (the men I work most closely with at NESPEC) informed me that we would go to Lahan to meet them in a few days for this very important meeting.
     (random picture of Prakash in Ilam).
     Luckily in the intervening days during a trip to a tea plantation in the hills of Nepal I randomly came across some Dutch medical students completing one of their internships in the gynecology wing of a well reputed Nepali teaching Hospital and begged them to explain what the heck a prolapsed uterus was. Through a very graphic discussion, some drawings, and (believe it or not) some more gestures, they helped me get a basic technical understanding.

     Essentially, they explained if the ligaments holding a woman’s uterus in place become weakened the uterus can fall into and begin to protrude out of her vagina. The extent of the problem is classified into 4 stages, the most extreme of which can only be addressed by surgery. The weakened ligaments can be caused by a combination of factors including early and repeated pregnancy throughout a woman’s life, excessive pressure on a woman’s stomach during birth (often applied by untrained birthing assistants as less than 10% of Nepali women give birth in hospitals by trained personnel), lack of sufficient rest and a return to heavy manual labor immediately following giving birth, along with other related factors.

     Believe me, I was thanking my lucky stars I had come across those medical students when I walked into my meeting at CDF….

420. SPORTS AND ÉCLAIRS: MY TWO FAVORITE THINGS

     July 23, 2014 5:09 am Leave a Comment

     It’s hard to feel motivated to do much of anything in this weather. With the high temperatures this week reaching 110 degrees, it zaps all of my energy just to walk to the store for water or to a café for air conditioning. Things have slowed down drastically at work; it’s hard to plan projects for volunteers when it’s too hot to work outdoors. All of the events that we have hosted over the past two weeks have been at night, including a rock concert that featured a young band from Bitola. There was a high turnout for the concert – Bitola experiences a large influx of young people this time of year due to the local university’s summer institute – and only minimal complaint from the neighbors.

     One of the ways that I try to escape the heat is by going to the pastry shop down the street from our office. I met the girl who works there a few weeks ago when Maja and I stopped by her high school, Taki Daskalo, to deliver some paperwork. (The school’s volunteer club received a small grant to cover photocopying expenses.) It’s a real eye opener when you enter a Macedonian school: the outside walls are covered in graffiti, the inside is barren, the furniture is in disrepair, and the windows are broken. And, yet, most young people speak English so well that communication is never a problem (schools start teaching English from the first grade on). I wish I could say the same about my Spanish.

     In addition to serving up some of the finest éclairs I’ve ever had, and I know my pastries, we talked for a few minutes about life in Bitola. Later on, I spoke with Maja about the condition of the school, which is likely in much better shape than most of the other schools in the area, and she showed me some flyers that some of the school’s students had produced. Late in the spring, just before I arrived, a group of students from Taki Daskalo had organized an event to highlight the deteriorating condition of the school’s athletic facilities. The flyer shows a student shooting a basketball at a hoop that is missing a rim, and below the picture the caption reads “Where can we play sports?” Clearly, some of these students have a knack for marketing.

     

     Students also organized athletic competitions and then sent out invitations to their local representatives and to the Agency for Youth and Sport and the Ministry of Education, and several media outlets covered the event.

     One can only hope that these students – over 100 of them participated in the event – had a positive experience lobbying for change. After all, there is no better way to get young people involved in their community than to find an issue that all young people can understand: the need to participate in sports.

421. 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.

422. Adventures in Laundry

     July 20, 2014 5:30 am 2 Comments

     It was a busy week at the office hammering out details and plans for the rest of the summer, drafting proposals, and training a new volunteer – which we are very grateful for! Wrapping up the week and having a day off was certainly welcomed.

     Sunday is the one day off in the week and I decided to take advantage of it by doing some laundry. I set out on this sunny, muggy morning to find a clothes drying rack to hang my clothes on. I found the bucket and soap at the local grocery store and with the neighborhood jam packed with various shops surely this pursuit would be simple.

     I walked around for almost two hours, encountered many – many people, numerous dogs and even more cows. Horns honked constantly as hundreds of cars, motorcycles, tractors, rickshaws, and bicycles whizzed past me in every direction. The intense heat and traffic had me a little overwhelmed and dizzy but I kept walking, taking close note of each turn I took.
     

     In my quest I found every kind of shop, store and office you could possibly think of or need. Cafes, juice stands, fruit vendors, snack stands, office supply store, cell phone and electronic store, broom shop, the salon, a tailor, cement shop, tire store, a pharmacy, a real estate office and dentist office – just to name a few.

     

     

     Searching for the clothes drying rack, which I still have not found, turned into a small adventure which helped (forced) me to get out, explore and feel comfortable in the neighborhood. I also now know where to find almost anything one could possibly need!

     

     (more…)

423. “MANGOS AND MILK” – PARVATI, PART I

     5:00 am Leave a Comment

     She caught my eye and waved me over, patting the bench next to her. I sat down and we gave each other a “Namaste” in greeting. She patted her chest and introduced herself as Parvati Poudel. Once we got beyond my “easily doable” conversation including, “where are you from,” “how long have you been in Nepal,” etc, Parvati launched into a patient and persistent conversation, as one must if one wants to communicate with someone who barely speaks your language. She used repetition, enunciation, and lots of gestures, until she was confident I understood.

     Parvati outside “gynecological examination room #2” (though I don’t know what happened to #1!)

     

     Realistically, she had no rush as she sat on the worn wooden bench of the top medical facility in Udayapur district and waited. She was just one among a throng of women in line to be evaluated for Uterine Prolapse (UP) and other gynecological problems by a team of qualified doctors in town for only 5 days. So our conversation was likely a welcome respite from the dim grayness and heavy air of the hospital’s unadorned cement atrium. Being one of the few unaccompanied women at the camp may have explained her more than a typical curiosity in me. During one of my rounds of picture taking, she indicated that she wanted me to take her picture, then she gave my camera to someone else so I could join her in front of the lens. When she re-initiated a conversation later, she would not end her insistence that I come to her home where she would feed me mangos right from the tree and milk fresh (not only from buffalo but the cow as well) until I took down her neighbor’s phone number and promised that if I was every anywhere near her hometown of Beltar that I would call and meet her.
     
     Women in the hospital waiting to be seen

     

     I also learned that despite the severity of her prolapse the doctors here would not be able to give her a hysterectomy during this free camp due to an infection she had from the small rubber pessary ring that was currently using to keep her uterus inside her body. Rather, she had been given a prescription for about 7 medications she should take for 15 days and told she should then travel to the private teaching hospital several hours away from Gaighat and pay for a hysterectomy from a location with permanent facilities. Realistically, as she would not likely be able to raise the money necessary for the operation (equivalent to $300-500) she likely have to wait until she heard of another free camp somewhere in the area and hope by the time she got there her infection would not have returned and she could receive an operation then.

     Later that afternoon as I was leaving the hospital to walk back to NESPEC(the NGO where I spent last summer) Parvati decided to come along. At one point as we walked she put her hand on my arm, stopped me, and shoved a plastic bag with 2 mangos into my hand. I started to protest, feeling awkward taking food from this ill woman whose clothes hung on her wasting frame, but though better of hurting her pride or refusing her hospitality and tried to graciously put them in my bag. When we arrived at NESPEC she hung around the grounds for a bit, while I chatted with my colleagues there – many whom I had not seen since my return to Nepal. She would periodically make eye contact with me (possibly reassuring herself I was still there?) and smile, but mainly lurked in the periphery. Later in the evening, before she faded off into the dusk, she asked someone to confirm I had her number and that I had indeed promise to call her the next time I was in Beltar.

424. SAVED BY SPEAKING

     July 18, 2014 2:15 am Leave a Comment

     This week has been full of meetings and computer glitches, but mostly computer glitches. So, to spare you the fallout from my I-want-to-smash-the-computer-week, I’ll keep this easy on your “servers.”

     One of the meetings I attended was held at the town hall in order to meet the new Head Teacher (i.e. a principal) of a school that many Gypsy children attend.

     In attendance were some pretty big players: the Director of Student Services for the city, the Coordinator for Pupil Services, the new Head Teacher and another government official. Also in attendance were UKAGW staff and two board members of UKAGW who also happen to be Gypsy mothers of children who attend the school.

     All in all it was a very civil meeting. So much so that I was a little suspect at just how routine it felt: everyone got a chance to speak and they all did—very well. The catch here is that everyone spoke. Therein lies the difference, as I was soon to learn.

     As we walked out of the town hall, one of the staff of UKAGW told me that when the two women had joined the UKAGW Board, they were afraid to say much of anything—condition to silence by their past experiences with authority and how that authority did or did not deal with them. (One example of dealing with them is the not uncommon practice of bailiffs making surprise visits in the middle of the night to violently evict families.)

     In any event, I could not believe the same women who spoke so eloquently and openly and confidently were the same ones being described to me as once fearful and silent. Again something I take for granted: the right—and subsequent ability—to speak to officials without fear of retribution (although I do suffer from the cop-in-the-rearview-mirror syndrome: guilt by proximity. But, imagine feeling like that all the time whether it be a policeman or the mayor or your child’s teacher at school, etc.)

     Perhaps this is not the most obvious victory on paper, but a significant one nonetheless: finding your voice and the confidence to use it. UKAGW can be very proud of how they’ve set examples for these women, women who are already passing on these invaluable traits to others.

     So, in closing, I encourage you to SPEAK YOUR MIND (at the least, it may save a computer from an untimely demise).

425. Bits of My Life in Kathmandu

     July 17, 2014 9:16 am Leave a Comment

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426. The Road Ahead for SWAN

     7:17 am 1 Comment

     Society Welfare Action Nepal (SWAN)  is approaching an organizational crossroads very soon! SWAN has been working on the issue of rescuing and rehabilitating Kamalaris since 1994, and has been partnering with Plan Nepal on the second phase of the Kamalari Practice Abolition Project (KAP-II) since 2005. SWAN’s sole focus on Kamalaris has left it with a dearth of working and funding partners. With the tentative end to KAP-II most likely occurring in the next few years, SWAN faces the extra hurdle of finding financial support for the continuity of its current program, and the expansion of new projects. After talking to board members, staff, and the current Social Mobilizers ( personnel who oversee Gender and Child Rights, Education and Livelihood programs on the field ) at SWAN there was a recurring and equal enthusiasm for expanding the scope of SWAN’s work to not only include Kamalaris, but any type of child laborer and disadvantaged children. The most common grievances put forth by all of the seven Social Mobilizers (SM) was their inability to financially help or support  any other child laborer or disadvantaged child other than a Kamalari. Debika Gharti Magar, one of the SMs, commented on the subject, “Families and friends who have seen what SWAN has done for the Kamalaris come to us and beg to help a (boy) child laborer and/or an extremely disadvantaged kid, yet even if we want to do something for them we are not able to do anything as we do not have any funds for them.”  Therefore, the need to expand the services of SWAN seems to be essential not only for the future existence of the organization, but primarily to address the worsening child labor prevalence in both the district, and the country.

     As I had hinted in my previous post, as part of a probable long term goal of SWAN, I have been looking at the possibility of setting up a transit/safe house that would house rescued child laborers until they are reunited with their family or relatives, or until an alternative is found. My conversation with Child Welfare Officer Rashmi Pandey, at the District Child Welfare Board in Ghorahi, further confirmed the lack of state mechanisms and non-governmental assistance in providing a safe house for rescued child workers. However, Mrs. Pandey seemed very enthusiastic about the possibility of a partnership between SWAN and local government institutions in creating a housing structure that would help in the rehabilitation of rescued child workers. Mrs. Pandey mentioned the recent formation of a Rescue Task Force that has been overseeing some successful rescue of child workers in Ghorahi and Tulsipur municipality of Dang district. The Task Force has been working primarily with NGOs Himalayan Peace Society and Jana Utthan Samaj in Ghorahi, and Dalit NGO Coordination Committee (DNGOCC) and New Awareness Women and Child Protection (NEWCPC) in Tulsipur in rescuing child laborers and helping them reunite them with their families. Mrs. Pandey stressed the importance of handing jail terms, as per existing laws, for child employers, however she pointed out the fact that even though cases get filed against the employers most of the cases end in some form of reconciliation between the employers and the children’s family. The current fine of Rs.5,000 (USD 51) for first time and Rs.15,000, and Rs.50,000 (this amount is fined if any government employee is caught employing children ) for repeated offense has not been a deterrent for employing children. The problem of children being sent to a new employers even after being reunited with their family is still a common occurrence, and Mrs. Pandey opined that it might also be effective to start prosecuting the families who send children in order to discourage families from using children as commodities.

     My conversation with Mrs. Pandey led me to believe that the government had already initiated steps to address the gap of a rehabilitation center for rescued child workers. She mentioned a “concept paper” that had been created that sought to garner support among local government institutions and NGO’s in establishing and sustaining said center. I also got a chance to speak with Mr. Navraj Lamichhane, Chairperson of the Tulsipur based NGO NEWCPC, who had run an orphanage in Tulsipur for 13 years. Mr. Lamichhane’s main point was that any form of rehabilitation center should house children for a short term, preferably no more than 3 months, until family members or caretakers could be found; he shared his experience where parents who were more than capable of taking care of their children sent them to such centers for extra financial gain, or when (either) parents want to shirk off from their parental responsibilities, in order to elope or any other reasons, “hand over” the children to child centers. He also mentioned that his own conversations with government officials had hinted in creating two separate rehabilitation centers in Tulsipur and Ghorahi that would house anywhere between 35-50 children, however no concrete plans have yet been made. On my query of the “concept paper” mentioned by Mrs. Pandey, he was unaware of any such proposal that had been tabled so far, as he is also on the committee that would review matters related to child protection.

     The exuberance with which my conversation with Mrs. Pandey took place last week, has given away to busy government schedules and the delegation of the continuity of our talk with the Chief District Officer (CDO), who will have the final word in not only the probable appropriation of land for the project, but also the green light for the start of such a project given the recent scrutiny and media attention various child homes have received in Nepal. For now, I wait with bated breath to secure a meeting with the CDO in order to discuss SWAN’s future plan of advocating and supporting not only Kamalaris, but for the successful rescue and proper rehabilitation of child workers in Dang district and beyond.

427. NEW LAW IN MACEDONIA!

     July 16, 2014 5:10 am Leave a Comment

     There’s a song on the radio with the lyrics “that girl’s got mad crossing the street skills.” The running joke in the office is that I don’t have these skills. It’s true; I’ll admit that the customs of the road in Macedonia have been a source of frustration for me, and crossing the street skills would be a huge plus here in Bitola. I’ve been here for almost six weeks and I still haven’t figured out when it’s safe to step into traffic, so I usually wait until all cars and mopeds have passed to move beyond the relative security of the sidewalk. One thing I have noticed, however, is that cars have, or simply take, the right of way over pedestrians when turning. This means that in addition to looking left and right before crossing, one must rotate 360 degrees to see if any vehicles want to turn. I can see the headlines now: American killed by Zastava while on nightly pilgrimage into town for ice cream. And I was always worried about death by Polski Fiat.

     The big news this week in the office, aside from my fear of small cars, is that the Macedonian parliament has passed the law on volunteering that our organization had lobbied for! I haven’t been able to find an English version of the legislation, but, from what I understand, it includes a definition of volunteering and provides guidelines for both public institutions and volunteers. The YCC expects that once the law is publicized, more and more institutions will be willing to open their doors to volunteers. The law also gives tax breaks for institutions offering volunteer placements.

     For those of you who read Macedonian, a draft of the legislation can be foundhere . The law was adopted as written, with the exception that fines for institutions that violate the law were increased.

     What’s next? Our office is planning a grassroots campaign to approach potential volunteer sites with information about the new law; the hope is that the passing of the law will mobilize the community to get involved in volunteer work. In the meantime, we’re developing a strategy to reach out to new volunteers and promote volunteerism in Macedonia. With a little effort, YCC should be able to have a volunteer placement center running by early next year.

     I, on the other hand, just hope that I can avoid the front end of a Yugo for the next few weeks.

428. WORK TO LIVE

     1:36 am Leave a Comment

     

     Before the second intifada in 2000, there were 125,000 Palestinians working in Israel. This number reflects over 25% of the entire Palestinian workforce, which currently stands at 700,000.

     In 2002, Israeli security concerns reduced the number of Palestinian work permits to 7,532, leaving over 110,000 Palestinians unemployed. Since 2002, the number of work permits issued has depended on the political climate and have gone up and down, though never returning to the natural rate of employment before the intifada. For example, in 2004 the Israeli government issued 33,386 work permits to Palestinians employed in Israel, Israeli controlled industrial zones, and the Israeli settlements, but this number has recently dropped again.

     Official estimates for 2008 are not available, but DWRC estimates that it is less than 20,000. Meanwhile, in 2008, Israel granted over 2,000 work permits to Eritrean immigrants alone. On top of this, Palestinians are subjected to special criteria for work permit eligibility. Palestinian men seeking an Israeli work permit need to be aged 35 or over, and must be married with children. No other nationality is subject to these restrictions.

     The problem of work permits for Palestinians is exceptionally complicated. On the one hand, Palestinians need to stop relying on the Israeli labor market. But in order to do this, Palestine needs both private and public sector growth, which is complicated by the restrictions on imports and exports. Domestic businesses in Palestine are only sustainable when they are local. Any Palestinian business that has several branches, one in Nablus, one in Gaza, one in Ramallah, and one in Bethlehem will face extraordinary logistical difficulties in both the movement of goods and the movement of their workers. Any company involved in imports and exports will have to be able to incur higher costs, as imports and exports are taxed twice, once by Palestine, once by Israel, thus cutting into profits.

     So while I want to see Palestinians less dependent on the Israeli labor market, I realize that it is impossible to break the cycle of dependency until policies hindering the Palestinian economy change. And further complicating the domestic labor market is the fact that Israel needs Palestinian labor. Just last year, the Israeli Association of Contractors and Builders lobbied to increase the number of Palestinian construction workers who have permits to work in Israel by 10,000. They claimed that 5,000 additional workers were needed immediately in order to meet the demand of the Israeli construction boom.

     Ironically, the majority of these Palestinian workers would be involved in building the illegal Israeli settlements that are crossing over the green line, taking the land of their families and friends. This is exceptionally problematic, but for many Palestinians there is no choice to be made. The choice to work in the settlements comes in the form of choosing whether to meet your family’s immediate needs, or prolong their suffering. And when I say prolong their suffering I mean that regardless of whether Palestinians take these jobs in the settlements, the settlements will continue to expand. There is no shortage of immigrant labor in Israel. And at this time, there appears to be no reflection on behalf of the Israeli government regarding the international stop work orders issued for the settlements that encroach on the green line.

     Moreover, the restrictions on work permits have created a real insecurity for Palestinians, and I don’t just mean in terms of the numbers that are being issued. Palestinians continue to work in Israel, permit or no permit, and Israeli employers continue to hire Palestinian workers, permits or no permits.

     This past week a Swedish journalist visited DWRC to get background information for an article he is writing about Palestinians employed in Israeli construction. Its a particularly interesting topic, since construction employs most of the Palestinian workers in Israel. Many Palestinian construction workers who used to work in Israel are unemployed due to the restrictions on work permits. Many try to find local employment, but it doesn’t pay as well and is harder to come by, leaving many workers chronically underemployed. To get a first hand account of what it is like for these workers, we arranged for the journalist to meet with 8 construction workers, half employed legally in Israel, half illegally.

     

     For the legal workers, they complained about routine, on-the-job discrimination, which included receiving unequal pay for the same work as their Israeli counterpart, inadequate benefits, and uneven application of labor laws. For example, Palestinian laborers who work legally in Israel are subjected to Jordanian labor law, even though Palestine has issued its own labor law, and even though immigrant laborers in Israel (from China, Africa, India, and South East Asia) are protected by Israeli labor laws.

     Legally employed Palestinian workers must pay Israeli social security taxes and Israeli union dues, even though they receive no social security benefits from Israel and receive no protection from the Histadrut, the Israeli union to which they pay dues. On average, if a payment arrangement isn’t set up through ssa.gov application filing, union fees and social security taxes, are automatically deducted from their monthly wage, equal 28% of their total monthly paycheck. Yet they will never receive these benefits, they will never receive the pension that they have paid into.

     Moreover, two of the legally employed workers explained that in regards to Jordanian labor law, Israeli employers often pick and choose what sections of the law they want to apply. Under Jordanian labor law, Friday is the mandatory day off from work, as it is a holy day, but both workers explained that they were expected to work on Fridays, as Israeli labor law and Israeli employers don’t recognize Friday as a holy day. One worker explained that to complain about working on Friday means to lose your job. But to make matters worse, he explained, losing your job can mean losing your permit, as your permit often ends with the contract for your work.

     

     For the illegally employed workers, which are the majority in Israel, things are even worse. The four illegally employed construction workers described their daily trip to work: at 4 AM they arrive at a discreet place close to the Israeli border to meet the smuggler who takes them across the line to Israel. They pay the smuggler 50 NIS, a heavy price when they expect to make anywhere from 150 to 300 NIS that day. The smuggler has a van and they must wait until at least 20 workers show up for the trip, the van doesn’t fit 20 workers, it only fits 10, but they pile in, one on top of the other. There are different smugglers every day, they tell us. Most of the smugglers are Israeli settlers who are routinely waved through the checkpoints due to their special license plates.

     They prefer to go with the settlers because it is safer. The other smugglers have to take the back roads, and try to get the trip done as quickly as possible, so they drive 80 or 90 miles an hour on dangerously narrow, mountainous roads.

     Once they make it to the Israeli side they make their way to their place of work, where they work for 12 hours, with no social protection, no work injury protection, no occupational health and safety standards, and no breaks. Construction has the highest incident of work injury in the world, and the illegally employed construction workers explained that many workers get injured at their jobs.

     What happens to them? Their employers drive them back across the border and dump them on the Palestinian side. There might be a hospital less than 1 mile from their work site, but they can’t go there, the employer cannot risk it and neither can the employee: they are illegal, they have no permission to be on Israeli soil.

     Then there is the issue with the pay. Since they are illegal, they are technically day laborers, even if they have worked at the same place for years. They should get paid daily, they need to get paid daily, especially considering they are paying 100 NIS to the smuggler for their roundtrip commute. But too often the employer tells them tomorrow, tomorrow you will get paid.

     Tomorrow might not come. The worker may not get to work, something could go wrong, the smuggler might not show up, the border might be closed, or the employer might be gone, along with the wage.

     I asked the illegally employed workers if they had to go through the smuggler, if they might not just try walking along the porous sections of the border alone. Yes they said, many do this, but it is sometimes worse. The border police will shoot you. Just last week, they shot dead a 17 year old boy who was crossing to work. If you get caught with the smuggler, one man explained, you may get beaten, arrested, and detained, but at least you will still have your life.

429. First Day At The Vikalp Office: A Special Case

     July 14, 2014 4:43 am 2 Comments

     The Vikalp office is a busy place constantly humming with energy – people coming and going with various questions, concerns, reports, or to just stop in and visit. One of Vikalp’s main charges is to support the village women in continuing to hold court cases that allows marginalized women access to the legal system

     On my first day Yashoda one of the main leaders from the women-led court Nari Adalat, came in for monthly reporting. Nari Adalat is one of the first legal courts that Vikalp created a partnership with. Nari Adalat runs independently and is considered a close, successful partner to Vikalp. The court currently handles over 100 cases a year, and the number continues to grow.

     Monthly reporting to Vikalp includes: stating how many new cases have been filed, the number of fact-finding missions that have been carried out, the number of cases that have been resolved, and how many cases remain unresolved and open.

     After discussing some notes, Yashoda intently put down her large notepad and began to passionately explain a case that has remained open for some time – a case that has left the women of the court unable to come to a comfortable solution.

     She describes a village woman in her early thirties looking for support and resolution that came to her five years ago. The young woman was divorced from her husband two years into their marriage because he refused to provide for her and their daughter. The mother is asking that the daughter go and live with the father. One of the main goals of the women’s court is to encourage a settlement with the woman’s perspective in mind, but in this case the court is having a difficult time granting her request.

     This case is not simple. It carries with it a set of unique circumstances that aren’t often seen or talked about in this community. The daughter of this woman and her estranged husband is a seven year old with profound special needs. She cannot walk or talk and requires 24 hour care. The mother bears the sole responsibility for the care of their daughter financially, physically, and emotionally.

     The State provides very little as far as financial and medical assistance, and it is very difficult for those, especially in rural areas, to access this assistance. In India, most special needs children do not receive a formal education and they are often segregated from mainstream schools and social activities. There is a stigma associated with people of special needs, and they are often outcasts of the community. Obviously this not only hurts and violates the rights of those with special needs but also the family members caring for them.

     This woman is confined to the home – isolated – unable to live her own life in many ways. Her parents are too old to help and her only brother has three children of his own to care for. With little financial and emotional support, and no one willing or able to provide her with assistance – she is completely overwhelmed.

     She would like to remarry but because of the stigma of people with special needs, it is highly unlikely that she will find someone accepting and willing to take on such responsibility.

     The court will not put this young, vulnerable child with father because he lives with his father who killed his own daughter.

     The child must be protected and the safest option is to live with her mother. The court has decided that the father should pay money to the mother each month to help with the child.

     But what about this woman’s rights?

     Although more financial support will provide some relief, she will still suffer the emotional fatigue and isolation of caring for her daughter alone. She will be unable to find companionship, a livelihood, a social life…

     Day in and day out she alone will carry the weight of her child’s very special needs.

430. RAPE IN CONGO: NOT JUST A QUESTION OF CONFLICT

     July 13, 2014 5:41 am Leave a Comment

     A recent report issued by the American Medical Association (AMA) has had me and SOS FED’s staff thinking about some possibly unexploited “entry points” in the fight against sexual violence in Congo. The AMA report revealed that 74% of reported rapes in the Kivus and Ituri Province in 2009 occurred during active combat. This is not surprising, as conflict breeds insecurity and vulnerability in a manner more potent than possibly any of the other factors of the rape epidemic in Congo under current scrutiny. It’s evident that when chaos takes root, the most vulnerable of the population, in Congo the women and children, suffer disproportionately. These cases represent three-fourths of the cases of rape in Congo.
     However, SOS FED beneficiaries being interviewed by our field staff have begun to tell a different story concerning their vulnerability which draws a bit of our focus towards the remaining quarter of cases from the AMA study-the women being raped in areas where conflict isn’t a daily reality. While fighting occurs semi-regularly in SOS FED program areas (some areas worse than others), the majority of the rapes SOS FED beneficiaries report occur while they are pursuing the most mundane of daily tasks under relatively peaceful regional circumstances. Often, the rapes occur in broad daylight in villages deemed more secure than others in Fizi Territory. The beneficiaries report to us that cultivation, collection of firewood, and taking water from Lake Tanganyika have gone from predictable work to be done on a daily basis to frightening and risk-filled work. This forms a troublesome question to consider: Why exactly does the number of rapes continue to increase in areas where fighting has lulled, accounting for nearly a quarter of the cases of rape reported in eastern Congo in 2009?
     One major factor to consider in answering this question is the presence of soldiers across eastern Congo, even in areas not directly involved in current fighting. Contrary to widespread perception of Congo, there are areas in which gunshots don’t regularly provide the evening soundtrack. Nevertheless, in these areas we encounter no shortage of FARDC troops. These soldiers have been brought up and trained in the Congolese military system in which impunity and lack of oversight are the norms. MONUSCO supports them with medicine, food, ammunition, but has not yet come to the point where monitoring of what they do with these materials occurs in any clear fashion. Thus, we see large brigades of underpaid, well-armed, soldiers not necessarily involved in defense (because of lack of a clear enemy or lack of a will to protect civilians) of a community. The stage is set in this way for even secure villages to be overtaken by sexual violence and other crimes against civilians as these soldiers not only lack a clear mission but also lack the oversight necessary to ensure that undisciplined soldiers do not feed off the population.
     Civilian rape is possibly a more compelling point of interest in assessing the vulnerability Congolese women face, even when residing in more secure regions of the country. A recent study by the Harvard Humanitarian Initiative (HHI) shows nearly a 17-fold increase in the incidents of civilian rape reported to organizations working with victims of sexual violence between 2004 and 2008. One of the contributors to this study, which was conducted in South Kivu, commented that, “Before [rape] was like a gun in a war. Today, though things have cooled down, the mindset remains in people…” Thus, we see that rape has becoming increasingly normalized among civilians. If it’s true that violence begets violence, by the same logic rape begets rape. Civilians have not only viewed rape on an immense scale throughout the years, but also seen that very few violators are punished for their crimes. The international community has a controversial role in this regard; MONUSCO’s extensive support to the FARDC is on shaky ground given that nearly 80% of the rapes reported in the region occur at the hands of their troops. Does this not send the wrong message to soldiers and civilians alike across Congo?
     It is possible that an undue amount of attention has been focused on the implications of the AMA study. If nearly 75% of rapes occur during active conflict, then a quarter of the rapes occurring in eastern Congo occur in areas enjoying periods of relative peace. For those hoping to stop sexual violence in Congo, this quarter of cases demonstrates a key point of entry. Steven Levitt noted in Freakonomics that arms are simply a way to upset the “natural order” of things, and nowhere is this more evident in Congo. A woman who knows her rights, knows how to stay safe, and does not expose herself to vulnerability-increasing behavior still will fall when it comes down to an armed man with an intent to rape. In a conflict-ridden Congo, this is a given despite the best efforts by NGOs and civil society groups.
     Perhaps an emphasis on prevention (collective cultivation, education, rights training, etc.) among women in areas not rife with fighting is a means of eliminating the cases of sexual violence which represent the 25% of the non-conflict related rapes occurring across eastern Congo ever year. These cases being eliminated would surely represent the most significant reduction of sexual violence which has occurred in Congo since the epidemic came to be in the early years of the conflict.
     Working to eliminate the 25% of cases occurring in non-conflict situations could have significant implications on the 75% of cases occurring in conflict. First, the empowerment of a group of women who otherwise would have been victimized forms a potent tool in the regional effort to eliminate sexual violence. Secondly, and more importantly, if and when the conflict in eastern Congo comes to a close, the prevention of rape in non-conflict situations will be valuable to ensure that civilian rape is curbed. It would be ill-advised to assume that rape in Congo will end because of the end of the conflict, given that numbers of civilian rape are on the rise.
     This thinking has really informed our approach to sexual violence in Congo for 2011. We hope to stress prevention in areas where prevention can work. This is not to say that we ignore areas where conflict induced vulnerability reigns supreme, but means that we place equal value in the effort to prevent rape where possible through programs and education as we do in our effort to treat women who suffer rape in Fizi Territory’s more dangerous conflict zones. It is a fine balance, but focusing a bit on the 25% of cases which don’t occur at the barrel of a gun might make significant progress in the fight against sexual violence in Congo.

     Ned Meerdink

431. WATER, FOOD, AND FUEL

     5:35 am Leave a Comment

     When I think about all of the lessons I have learned in three years in Congo, one comes to mind as the most important of them all: The basics of life are 1) difficult to come by and 2) never to be taken for granted. Across the world, people struggle for water, food, and fuel, but never have I seen a daily struggle for the basics burn as it does in eastern Congo.

     Standing by the side of a dirt track my colleagues and I took turns cutting a broken radiator fan out of our truck with a razor blade I meant to use for a much needed shave, I was forced again to think about the difficulties in collecting the basics of what it takes to live in Congo. Surrounded by nothing but forest and hoping the truck would eventually start again, I saw nothing much worth looking at besides the occasional woman passing by, always carrying one of the following loads: 1) a plastic container of water, 2) a bunch of cut wood, or 3) a basket of just-harvested manioc or beans. It would be nice to say that these women went about these daily tasks with a certain joie de vivre in recognition of a job well done, but all I saw was perspiration and grit, and the women’s knowledge that the closest village was a long stretch ahead. “Whistle while you work” did not come to mind in the 90 F weather. I watched as the most fundamental of the building blocks of life-food, water, fuel-were passing en route to their final destination on women’s heads and backs, yet only through sweat and drudgery of the highest degree.

     I was traveling to a village called Kikonde, a place I have been numerous times before, where SOS FED has kept a reception center for rape victims going despite constant insecurity and logistical challenges. In Kikonde, the sacrifices Congolese women make to achieve the most basis necessities of life were further emphasized in 40-or-so interviews with SOS FED beneficiaries about the situations that have led them to become victims of sexual violence. As Kikonde is now crawling with former CNDP rebels from Laurent Nkunda’s psychotic pack now on the Congolese government’s payroll, we got a predictable number of women reporting that their rapes occurred during the night when soldiers simply kicked in their doors and took and did what they pleased. This is all too common in the epoch of President Kabila’s Amani Leo Operation. However, what took us a bit by surprise during the interviews was the sheer number of women saying that they were attacked and raped during their efforts to bring fuel, water, and food back to their homes for their families. The stories were shockingly unanimous: A woman was walking by herself to a well, by herself to her fields, or by herself to cut wood for her fires, and was taken by soldiers hiding out in the rural areas where these resources are concentrated throughout Congo. We had heard this in other interviews conducted throughout the years and certainly read it in policy papers, yet for some reason the stories stuck out like a sore thumb this time around.

     So, if you are working as SOS FED is to prevent women from being overly vulnerable to rape, where is the key point of intervention? These interviews proved that if we ensure that the basics can be achieved by women without increasing their vulnerability to rape, significant strides would be made in the battle against sexual violence. When we asked what women thought would decrease their vulnerability while getting water, wood, and food the answer was as unanimous as the answers to the previous question. Collective management of these resources and strength in numbers in taking these resources to women’s homes would prevent rape. Women offered us examples of their experiences in collective fields, where roving militia members encountered women working in large groups and realized that a large group has an uncanny ability to identify assailants to local authorities. These would-be-rapists were forced to go elsewhere to find more isolated victims. What if there were no isolated would-be victims left to attack?

     Thus, an elementary connection between rape in eastern Congo and isolation while bringing home the basic elements of life was made infinitely clearer by our time in Kikonde. It’s another example of the overwhelming truth that local communities know most about the ways to improve their lives. Far too few people, NGOs, and research tanks take the time to ask. Want to know how to stop the war being waged on Congolese women? Just ask the women who have already fallen victim to it.

     Me, SOS FED, and AP are now thinking on how exactly to urge communities to collectively work to get these resources where they are needed without putting women in harm’s way. Surely civilians in an area under control of sordid militias are always potential victims of those who carry the AK-47s, but a collectivity of organized civilians working together at key places of vulnerability, such as in their fields or near isolated sources of water, forms a significant “check” against a soldier looking for a lonely and therefore vulnerable target. This is where we need to be focusing our attention to help reduce women’s vulnerability to rape in Congo.

     Ned Meerdink

     

     A Kikonde woman’s embroidered image of her rape, which occurred while she was alone, cultivating her fields in an isolated field. Her story was in sync with many other stories we heard in Kikonde.

     A Kikonde woman’s embroidered image of her rape, which occurred while she was alone, cultivating her fields in an isolated field. Her story was in sync with many other stories we heard in Kikonde.

432. WALIKALE: JULY 30-AUGUST 2

     5:33 am Leave a Comment

     Anyone doubting the gravity of the situation women in eastern Congo face and the constant threat of sexual violence that exists throughout this region ought to take a glance at the recent happenings in and around a mining town called Walikale.

     As both the New York Times and the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) recently reported, the weekend of July 30th was truly one to remember (or possibly one to forget) in Walikale. Raids in the villages surrounding this mining town and FDLR (Rwandan rebel) base began on a Friday night. By the end of the weekend, at least 200 FDLR rebels who previously stated that they were just arriving to the villages for rest and food had raped 180 women, with the number of reported cases rising since according to local radio. Most women reporting their violations also reported that the rape was committed by up to six FDLR soldiers at a time. UN peacekeepers 20km from the villages being pillaged and violated mentioned that they were simply unaware this was happening over the three days of raids. Following the raids, the FDLR simply slunk back into the forest to wait, presumably vindicated in their success due to the lack of opposition they met and the clear inability of both the UN, the Mai-Mai militias, and the Congolese FARDC soldiers the protect the civilians in and around Walikale.

     Is this story shocking anyone? It should force us to recognize the sheer vulnerability women in Congo suffer from, despite the group of ‘allies’ in place throughout eastern Congo to help prevent rampant violence and rape. Additionally, it forces us to look towards civil society groups like SOS FED, who realize the constant threat and continue to fight vulnerability in their own ways despite the inability of even armed protection to stem the rape crisis. Groups like SOS FED have an enormous weight on their shoulders, and their continual courage in light of stories like this weekend in Walikale is admirable. Finally, we must note the clear link between minerals and violence in Congo. The FDLR is not in Walikale by chance, but partially because of the lucrative business to be done there in tin ore. Bisie Mine near Walikale is infamous for the fact that it is regularly exploited by the most unsavory of armed groups. An AP Fellow recently blogged about the Financial Reform Bill and a rider attached concerning controlling the minerals coming from eastern Congo, which will hopefully make it more difficult (eventually) for armed groups to profit from Congo’s mineral wealth. But for now the crisis rolls on unabated.

     The last question that came to my mind in reading this news was: Who is sitting on their hands while this happens? Congo’s government has long been doing more or less nothing to prevent rape. It’s no news that the majority of rapes occurring in Congo are committed by Congolese FARDC soldiers. The fact is that the current Amani Leo operation to crush the FDLR has merely added to the instability in the region. Additionally, the UN undoubtedly will come up with some justification for what is becoming a pattern of inactivity in response to crises occurring at their doorstep. I’m waiting to hear some explanation on this incident besides the UN Military spokesperson’s comment that ‘information is still being gathered.’ They are certainly charged with a daunting task in bring security to a very insecure place, but surely a base 20km from the scene of a weekend long rape spree ought to have had some idea it was occurring. When we consider that the UN is currently scaling down their troop concentration in eastern Congo, the confusion only grows.

     The article I’m speaking about, written by Josh Kron, is here. It’s certainly worth reading closely.

433. MBOKO MEETING RECAP

     5:28 am Leave a Comment

     I recently arrived back in Bujumbura after a productive, albeit dusty and tiring, séjour in Mboko village, South Kivu, Congo. The SOS FED field team, having come together from all corners of Fizi Territory, had some interesting things to share, and really brought me up to speed on the progress of the current campaign of rape prevention they have put into place. The journey to Mboko was remarkably free of problems, and a little bit of planning kept us moving quickly through the road blocks and security check points. Thanks very much to SOS FED’s Uvira team for that. Here is a quick recap of what went during the Mboko meeting.

     First, AP and Zivik have provided much needed support for SOS FED’s community fields program, which was a key agenda for the days of meetings in Mboko. The program, in a nutshell, encourages survivors of sexual violence working with SOS FED to form cooperative cultivation teams, then rents them the necessary hectares of land and monitors their production. Money made in the fields is divided among the cooperative cultivation teams, with each woman benefiting directly from their work. This may sound basic, but the key difference from traditional cultivation in Congo lies in the ‘cooperative’ aspect of the current program. Far too many SOS FED beneficiaries have found themselves in their current place-that is, trying to recover from violent sexual violence-because of their need to cultivate fields in often remote regions of Fizi Territory, where land can be rented at the lowest price. So, AP and Zivik have begun providing fields to women once two conditions have been met. First, a field must be located near a principal route or well-traveled footpath. Second, a field must not be worked by one woman, but by her cooperative group. In this way, vulnerability is reduced in that women are cultivating together (strength in numbers) and doing so in areas of Fizi Territory that are not so isolated as to provide ideal striking grounds for the regions roving militias. This slight modification has been showing positive signs of reducing vulnerability and protecting Congolese women trying to put food on their table. We all gave a big ‘bravo’ to this program, and are currently toying with numerous ways to precisely monitor field output in order to determine which types of crops in which areas provide the most profit to SOS FED’s beneficiaries.

     
     Amisi from SOS FED and I in Mboko village

     Amisi from SOS FED and I in Mboko village

     In addition, the much awaited ‘Ahadi’ program has been given wings as of this last meeting. Though the program is well underway, the AP Fellow working from Bujumbura and I will be saving details on this until a later date. The program involves art as a means for advocacy, and places SOS FED beneficiaries in the driver’s seat of their own advocacy campaign. More on that will be available later. Materials are in place and the wheels are in motion.

     Finally, the SOS FED field teams and I touched base on the current situation in and around the three SOS FED reception centers in Fizi Territory. The news is bleak, in that all of the centers are currently above capacity and receiving new visitors looking for a safe space to stay daily. The current Amani Leo operation in South Kivu has not ended the rape crisis as one might think from listening to Congolese Radio. Surely, Amani Leo is forcing FDLR militias deeper into the forests, but that doesn’t stop them from raping local women. It merely moves the sites of these violations to much less traveled areas of South Kivu where the Amani Leo force ceases to hold influence. Additionally, as the Amani Leo force is formed of FARDC [Congolese soldiers-reportedly responsible for 80% of the rapes in eastern Congo] and the ex-CNDP [notoriously violent militia soldiers once commanded by war criminal Laurent Nkunda], the population is not necessarily much better off than if the FDLR roamed free in the region. Correct me if I am wrong here, but rape is rape, regardless of the militia du jour that commits it. A perfect example lies in the fact that the SOS FED Mboko center was pillaged and forced to empty not too long ago at the hands of the state-sponsored protectors of Congo, the FARDC. No militia necessary. Thus, not a jovial ending to this blog, but a hopeful one in that the work continues.

     None of the SOS FED field staff in attendance at Mboko gave any signs of the weariness a life in Congo can inspire. Quite the opposite, their presence at the meeting was a testament to their strength and commitment to improving their region. This will involve making good use of scant resources, staying organized, pulling from that never-ending well of patience and resilience, and keeping SOS FED moving towards their admirable goals. This is a lot easier said than done, especially in such an ‘interesting’ zone of eastern Congo. But, like I said, the work continues.

     Ned Meerdink

434. SOUTH KIVU TRAVEL AGENCY

     5:23 am Leave a Comment

     This evening, I returned home from my most recent series of planning meetings with AP’s DRC partner, SOS Femmes en Danger (SOS FED). This time, our meetings were logistical in nature, as we are currently organizing a large meeting/training session/organizational update for the SOS FED staff and have to figure out how exactly to get the staff from each SOS FED reception center to Mboko village in South Kivu to rendez-vous. SOS FED currently has 3 reception centers for survivors of sexual violence in South Kivu spread throughout the province in the villages of Mboko, Kikonde, and Kazimia.

     300 kilometers of no roads and questionable security conditions through numerous rebel-held villages separate Center Kazimia, the southernmost from the SOS FED installation, from the northernmost Center Mboko. The SOS FED village field workers are preparing to arrive by a confusing combination of motorcycles, boats, and transport lorries normally reserved for corn and manioc in order to get to our meeting on the 2nd of August to speak face-to-face and truly begin putting the ‘Combating Sexual Violence in Eastern Congo’ campaign into action.

     So, next time you are considering the horrible inconvenience of your two hour layover in Indianapolis or even your ten hour wait in Addis Ababa en route to somewhere else, consider the following itinerary for our SOS FED representative working in Kazimia, South Kivu:

     1. Take the dugout pirogue from Kazimia towards Yungu. Estimated time of travel is anywhere between 5 hours and 2 days, depending on the load of fish being ferried and the availability of gas in Kazimia to power an unpredictable outboard motor. The captain of the ship has failed to sympathize with our plea to get our colleague to Yungu in time to meet and thus can’t even guarantee the day he might be on his way. Quote: ‘When gas costs $3/liter, we can’t really move without the boat being full of fish to sell to pay our way back. So, I’ll send a message once we get enough fish.’ This is more than understood by everyone on our end, but there are no cell phone networks in Kazimia, so we are unsure how the message will reach us.

     2. Arrive at Yungu whenever, and get moving on foot towards Kikonde. Believe me, a 35 km walk is a lot slower when navigating around shady road blocks in mid-day Congo sun. In the event of a nighttime arrival our colleague will have to sleep at the port, because at night the road blocks get drunker.

     3. Now, hitch a ride to Baraka, which is a city center in South Kivu, on board a motorcycle making the trip without a passenger. We’ve gotten lucky in the past with drivers from larger aid organizations on the lookout for an extra passenger or two and the ‘pocket money’ that service generates for them. And make haste, because real delays are to be expected at road blocks at Kikonde and on the outskirts of Baraka.

     4. Finally, get yourself on a bus for the remaining 150km towards Mboko on any truck in sight moving north. Riding on top of bean sacks with 50 other passengers here is not to be ruled out, but don’t plan on a very cushy ride or even a seat for that matter. Also, everybody out on hills and on river crossings…

     After all this, our colleague will be in Mboko with us, following between 2 days and a week of traveling. And, as I’ve seen with my own eyes many times, she’ll arrive in nice clean pagne (fabric), not a hair out of place, looking like she’s on the way to a wedding—at the same time mentally poised and ready to sort out a pretty complex program. It defies all logic, but then again the Congolese women are the toughest and most resilient I’ve ever been lucky enough to work with.

     Ned Meerdink

435. BACK TO WORK IN CONGO & SANGE VILLAGE

     5:22 am 1 Comment

     I arrived last week to Uvira, South Kivu, in order to participate in a marathon of surprisingly exhausting meetings with SOS FED field workers concerning the current rape prevention program they have partnered with AP on. The journey to Congo from Bujumbura was much the usual-annoying slow and marred with checkpoints. However, a shocking event occurring on the road into Uvira the previous week had forced me to prepare a bit for the chaos that often ensues when working in and around South Kivu, Congo. This blog, consequently, is much more about this event than the content of the meetings we held in Uvira.

     Last week, a gas truck coming into town overturned on the ever-perilous excuse for a road into Uvira. The truck flipped near Sange village, which is just outside Uvira, and was reportedly trying to make good time to Uvira to avoid driving at night when the road fills with armed groups and road blocks. As many Congolese in the area of the truck converged to collect the valuable gas spilling from the ruptured tanker, the spill ignited and burned possibly 300 people to death. Many of those burned to death were not interested in the pillage of the spilling gas, but were simply watching World Cup matches on generator-powered television sets in the thatch hut bars which offer the ‘nightlife’ in any Congolese village. An exploding tanker, however, does not discriminate and a large portion of the densely populated village was reduced to ashes.

     The estimates of the death toll are imprecise, but the fall-out since the original accident has been drastic as Uvira has no medical facilities equipped to deal with burn victims, and no space to keep them out of the dust and dirt. A nurse from SOS FED working in Sange temporarily commented that the death toll could easily double due to the likeliness of burn victims not killed by their wounds developing untreatable infections. He also mentioned the difficulty in counting the dead, as ‘…young kids and those closest to the truck when it exploded were just ash by the time the fire died down a bit.’ Some burn victims were sent to the already over-burdened hospitals in Bukavu, the provincial capital, but the majority of burned civilians have to make do with local services and occasional visits by Médecins Sans Frontières mobile clinics and other NGOs helping out where they can. You’ll find a recent report of the incident here.

     In a place where a liter of gas’s value is a lot more than most people’s daily income, one can understand the lure of spilling gas quickly absorbing into the sand. I immediately thought of the situation a lot of people in Sange might have been in at the time and the difficult decision to be made. The opportunity to grab an empty US AID oil can and join in on a classic ‘victimless crime’-especially in order to assure another week’s meals-might be too hard to resist. In this instance, small-time theft had tragic repercussions for an area of the world which has already seen its share of tragedy.

     

     IDPs (Internally Displaced People) on the road out of Sange village ahead of CNDP/Kimia II advances last year. This family actually ended up living in the house next to mine in Uvira for a few months.

     IDPs (Internally Displaced People) on the road out of Sange village ahead of CNDP/Kimia II advances last year. This family actually ended up living in the house next to mine in Uvira for a few months.

436. IT’S GOOD TO BE BACK IN GREAT LAKES AFRICA

     5:19 am Leave a Comment

     After an absence that ran far too long, I am happy to be back in Bujumbura, Burundi en route to Congo.

     I arrived just in time to see the result of the Burundian ‘election’—there was only one candidate. Much to the surprise of international observers, the US Department of State, and myself, the only candidate was reelected with a minimal amount of disarray in Bujumbura. Some quartiers in Bujumbura were victims of opposition-led grenade attacks and shootings. However, the general opinion in town was that some disturbances are only normal for a Great Lakes election. So one experiences an air of business as usual in Bujumbura, an incumbent president successful in his campaign, and an unsettling finality to a more or less stolen election.

     Across the border in Congo, the end of June brought the celebration of their 50th year free from Belgian colonial rule. Amid the country-wide parades, demonstrations of military prowess, and self-congratulatory speeches given by President Joseph Kabila, a movement of discontent was visible and televised throughout the region. Large demonstrations were organized throughout eastern Congo as counters to the enthusiastic celebration of the 50th anniversary of independence. Most were led by groups holding signs declaring ‘50 Years of Blood Flow’, ’50 Years Later: The Theft Continues During Our Days’ and ‘Congo Raped Before and After Independence’. Organizers were quoted at length, and most commented on the current kleptocracy’s theft of minerals and lack of proper allocation of profit towards social services promised by the current government, the continuing violence in North and South Kivu provinces, and the feeling that war will always be a part of Congolese day-to-day life.

     These protest marches were of course not meant simply to give a pessimistic air to Congo’s party, but to call attention to the overwhelming failings of the current administration to address the issues which affect all Congolese. Of these, the issue which comes to the forefront and draws me here again is sexual violence, and the quite literal rape of Congo.

     In 2007, I was fortunate enough to stumble upon the work of a Congolese NGO called SOS Femmes en Danger (SOS FED), which works to provide basic care for the ever-increasing number of rape victims in south Kivu Province. AP was able to solidify a tight partnership with SOS FED since then, and has been working to support and draw international attention to their work. This next year, with the help of AP and the German Institute for Foreign Cultural Relations (IVF), SOS FED is unrolling a broad-based campaign of rape prevention, which is targeted towards empowering women to reduce their personal and collective vulnerability to rape. As AP’s representative in Congo, I am charged with monitoring and reporting abroad on this ambitious project. Marceline Kongolo, SOS FED’s Executive Director, has already been recognized by US Secretary of State Hilary Clinton and scores of the ‘who’s who’ in foreign service, and I am pretty honored to be part of her excellent team again. I’ll be blogging regularly until January, and will be providing much more in depth information as we go along. Please don’t hesitate to follow this blog, link to it where pertinent, and help get the word out about SOS FED’s work in eastern Congo. I’m off to Congo tomorrow morning, and I must say I am itching with anticipation over this much-awaited homecoming.

     Ned Meerdink 

437. SCHOOL IS AROUND THE CORNER, BUT WHERE ARE THE UNIFORMS?

     4:39 am Leave a Comment

     One of the more frustrating aspects of working in the regions of Congo currently under the yoke of Kimya II operations is the stopping of programs already in place due to declining security and risky travel situations. Admittedly, this is a paltry inconvenience when compared with the problems facing civilians all too often directly in the line of fire; their worries are much more significant than those NGOs face. Entire rural villages are being burned up by rebels it daily recently in South Kivu. However, when speaking of the declining quality of life and availability of services that face Congolese during active combat and operations, the blocking of NGO work definitely comes into play. Examples…

     One of the AP partners in eastern Congo with whom I have been working, SOS Femmes en Danger, recently appealed to the foundation run by Diane Von Furstenburg for financing to get uniforms and supplies to children of rape victims and single mothers (many mothers themselves are still young enough to be students) in Fizi Territorry villages currently more or less run by FDLR and Mai-Mai militias. Ms. Von Furstenburg was more than generous with us, and the huge hurdle that gaining even minimal amounts of financing usually is for organizations in eastern Congo was made remarkably simple. With the money in place, we got to work putting together hundreds of uniforms and supply sets for kids who pretty much wouldn’t be able to even find their obligatory uniforms due to the cutting of supply routes in their area. This all seems to be adding up to what could be called a ‘successful intervention’ by many, n’est-pas?

     Here’s the gritty part: The Kimya II operations in our area have more or less closed the roads due South. Roads that are still passable are manned by a variety of militia soldiers, obviously generally unconcerned with letting free school uniforms get through to more isolated communities. On the contrary, OCHA offices have informed me that not only will the Mai-Mai in question likely interrogate and extort us along the road, but they will likely take whatever is being carried towards Fizi and simply refuse the parcels back after ‘inspection.’ I’ve got no problem riding on a motorbike with heavy boxes for 14 hours, but not just to get robbed along the way. So, we look into taking a boat on Lake Tanganyika around the heavy combat zones, and we’re told that will cost for the moment is about $600 due to the regional insecurity and soaring gas prices (those lines have been cut off or at least limited as well). No chance…

     So, as the deadline for the beginning of the school year creeps closer, this prime example of frustrations encountered by NGOs with limited financing is rearing its ugly head. Waiting and wringing our hands is an option, but can only go so far. Hopefully, we’ll be able to convince the UN helicopters moving everywhere these days to organize a good old fashioned air drop, but that seems more than a little far-fetched. Welcome to eastern Congo during the epoch of Kimya II.

     Ned Meerdink

438. QUITE A BUSINESS TRIP

     4:07 am Leave a Comment

     Our efforts to bring the 4 members of COCAP’s Eastern Region together had repeatedly failed. But Arjun-dai and Prakash (respectively serving as COCAP’s Volunteer Eastern Region Focal Point Coordinator and paid Focal Point Facilitator with whom I am working most closely with this summer) and I all agreed that if we were actually going to write a joint proposal, there would HAVE to be a meeting. Since the biggest obstacle seemed to be getting the representatives from the Jhapa District to make the journey to Gaighat, Arjun-dai decided that we should take the meeting to them. That way they’d have no excuse.

     So, Arjun-dai, Prakash, and I with our colleague Janak from the other Gaighat-based NGO, piled on to a bus at 6am to begin our 5-6 hour journey. After a little over an hour we stopped in Lahan, to pick up a few more colleagues from CDF. Luckily the bandha that was imposed while we were waiting for “only 2 minutes” for our CDF colleagues only lasted 30 minutes and when they showed up 45 minutes later we got on our way.
     
     Our crammed bus traveled along the highway passing fields, clusters of thatched roof homes, road-side stalls, over a massive bridge spanning the Triveri River, and along the border with India to Ithari. Babies and children sat on our laps as passengers got off and on and the crowd waxed and waned. Several hours later we reached Ithari City that has sprung up on Nepal’s main highway solely to connect other destinations (and was one of the sites of the extended bandha I wrote about previously).

     In Ithari we had “lunch” at 10am and waited for Sahek, another friend & colleague serving on the COCAP board who was going to join our party. He informed us he was supposedly on a bus leaving Biratnagar, a 30 minute drive away. I’ve learned that time estimates do not tend to be accurate here so I expected him to take at least an hour.

     Thus, when we finally connected with him 2 hours later, I had received yet another lesson in patience and even deeper insight into Nepal’s social networks that take precedence over everything else. These networks seem of the utmost importance in all aspects of Nepali life, from politics to marriage arrangements to how work gets done. Yet, as hard as I try to wrap my brain around this fundamental cultural practice I still have only scratched the surface. I worry that these social networks will be both the strength and the curse of Nepal and will have to be dealt with directly for political reform to be successful.

     Our now complete posse of 7 was surrounded by drivers of vehicles of all sizes as deals were searched for and prices for our transport were negotiated. After a sticky two hours on a microbus built for 15 and packed with 25 and another 45 minutes of rattling down the highway in a tin can adorned with faded, oily, and shredding red velour interior that was formerly a 1970 luxury bus we arrived at our destination, Gajendra.

     Being that it was now just after 4pm and we were wilted, smelly, and exhausted (or at least I was…) I naturally assumed that they would take us to our hotel to clean up and rest and that we’d convene in the morning. There I go again with those assumptions!
     We (the gaggle of men and I) all sat down, did formal introductions, and the meeting began with the taking of attendance and the creation of an agenda. The meeting and discussions lasted for another 5 hours and were continued back at the hotel following dinner until after midnight. (To fully illustrate my state to those of you who have first hand knowledge of my aversion, somewhere around 6pm I found myself reaching into the pile that had been placed on the table, peeling, and eating half a banana for some crucially needed energy.)

     The topics covered over the 9ish hour meeting included how to expand the numbers of members in the region, how to convince central COCAP to provide funding for a quarterly regional meeting, how to improve their inter-region communication & collaboration, and a review of the successful on-going programming in each of the organizations to share best practices.

     Most importantly considerable time was spent discussing the specifics of a joint proposal that Prakash and I are working on for the region as a whole. The plan is to launch a coordinated program of education and awareness in rural and marginalized communities about the crucially important Constitutional Assembly Election that is slotted to be held November 22. If we can get all the info we need from the member organizations, get the proposal written, and find funding, the program is designed to reach over 30,000 people across 8 districts in the next 4 ½ months and will be incredibly exciting and useful.
     
     Another function of the meeting was that it allowed me to collect information regarding the communications situation of the various organizations. I wanted to gather a clear picture of the situation, and particularly the challenges to collaboration that exist. I was really surprised by the results, particularly as I learned that NESPEC (which I’d been thinking was basic) is actually quite well off as they have 2 computers and internet access (when it works) in the office.

     None of the other organizations has a fax machine or internet access, and one of them can’t even afford a computer. To use email, which is an increasingly routine form of communication, particularly with the International NGOs that often partner with these organizations, they have leave the office and go to a cyber café. All the organizations have phones, but it turns out that the cost of making a call outside the local area is 8 rupees per minute, causing a 5 minute phone call to cost more that what Prakash pays for his dinner.

     These technological realities and related substantial costs of time and money, combined with the regular bandhas, gave me an entirely new appreciation for the challenges involved in successful inter-agency collaboration – particularly when that collaboration requires information and document sharing. It doesn’t make it any less frustrating when we wait endlessly for someone to pass information along or come to a meeting, but it certainly makes the context and obstacles clearer in my mind.

     All in all, the meeting was quite a success and in addition to the proposal, I’m trying to think of creative ways to support the ongoing collaboration of these organizations, which I truly believe holds incredible promise. I’ve gathered a wish list of items each organization would like to have to improve it’s effectiveness and capacity, and I’m trying to brainstorm some ways to get them these needed resources and to improve their ability to communicate regularly. AND I’d love some help with this… Anyone have any ideas?

439. A Visit to the Brick Factory

     July 11, 2014 5:07 am 281 Comments

     Last weekend was a pretty busy weekend for me.  I had the opportunity to visit a brick factory in Lalitpur.  I went there with an image of post-colonial British brick-making in mind, something akin to T.S. Eliot’s The Wasteland.  I expected plumes of smoke and coal-dusted walls and faces, but it was not like that all.  It was quiet.  Most of the factories are closed down for monsoon season.  However, there were still a few people around to visit, and I was able to take quite a number of pictures. 

     The factory sat in the midst of large green fields.  At any other time of the year, these fields would be filled with people digging up clay, but the day I visited, they lay empty and quiet.  Some fields were being used as farmland.  Along the perimeter of the land sat several jerry-built brick homes.  Again, because it’s monsoon season, most of the homes were vacant.  The people who remained either had nowhere else to go, or were able to pick up some spare work such as hand-making bricks, or carrying and loading bricks.  

     The children I met were not child laborers.  They were part of CONCERN’s rescue and rehabilitation program.  In this program, if parents agree to prevent their children from working in the kilns, the parents receive a goat.  By selling goat meat, the parents can make up for the wages their children would have made.  CONCERN then helps pay for the children’s school material costs. 

     I had the opportunity to meet one of these children: Ramesh Gharti Magar.  Ramesh looked to about 17 years old.   CONCERN helped fund a sweet shop to rescue Ramesh from the brick kilns.  He was very happy that he was able to work independently and did not have to work in the kilns any longer.  

     After we left the brick factory, we went into the city for a light lunch.  That’s when I met a teenager by the name of Tikaram Pokhrael.  Tikaram also used to work in the brick kilns. CONCERN helped Tikaram fund a fruit stand.  During the day, Tikaram goes to school, and in the afternoons he works at the fruit stand.  He is a very happy young man, and his pineapples and papayas are delicious.  They made a great lunch!

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     Last weekend was a pretty busy weekend for me.  I had the opportunity to visit a brick factory in Lalitpur.  I went there with an image of post-colonial British brick-making in mind, something akin to T.S. Eliot\u2019s The Wasteland. <\/i> I expected plumes of smoke and coal-dusted walls and faces, but it was not like that all.  It was quiet.  Most of the factories are closed down for monsoon season.  However, there were still a few people around to visit, and I was able to take quite a number of pictures. <\/span><\/p>\n\n

     <\/p>

     The factory sat in the midst of large green fields.  At any other time of the year, these fields would be filled with people digging up clay, but the day I visited, they lay empty and quiet.  Some fields were being used as farmland.  Along the perimeter of the land sat several jerry-built brick homes.  Again, because it\u2019s monsoon season, most of the homes were vacant.  The people who remained either had nowhere else to go, or were able to pick up some spare work such as hand-making bricks, or carrying and loading bricks.  <\/span><\/p>\n\n

     <\/p>

     The children I met were not child laborers.  They were part of CONCERN\u2019s rescue and rehabilitation program.  In this program, if parents agree to prevent their children from working in the kilns, the parents receive a goat.  By selling goat meat, the parents can make up for the wages their children would have made.  CONCERN then helps pay for the children\u2019s school material costs. <\/span><\/p>\n\n

     <\/p>

     I had the opportunity to meet one of these children: Ramesh Gharti Magar.  Ramesh looked to about 17 years old.   CONCERN helped fund a sweet shop to rescue Ramesh from the brick kilns.  He was very happy that he was able to work independently and did not have to work in the kilns any longer.  <\/span><\/p>\n\n

     <\/p>

     After we left the brick factory, we went into the city for a light lunch.  That\u2019s when I met a teenager by the name of Tikaram Pokhrael.  Tikaram also used to work in the brick kilns. CONCERN helped Tikaram fund a fruit stand.  During the day, Tikaram goes to school, and in the afternoons he works at the fruit stand.  He is a very happy young man, and his pineapples and papayas are delicious.  They made a great lunch!<\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””}]}[/content-builder]

440. INDEPENDENCE DAY

     July 10, 2014 4:07 am Leave a Comment

     Occasionally in the late afternoon a few friends from work and I will go get our favorite snack – beaten rice and curd (rice treated and flattened into the consistency of a dry cereal mixed with yogurt), topped w/ a little sugar. My attempts to pay are an ongoing game as somehow they always cut me out of the rotation. The only exception this day was that I announced it was my country’s independence day and that in celebration the least they could do was let me pay. Prakash and Ajay refused my offer, but later that night they told me we had been extended a formal invitation that we could not turn down to go have fish at Arjun-dai’s house (Arjun Kumar Dahal is the president of NESPEC, dai is an affectionate suffix denoting “older brother”). Apparently, after a little pow-wow they decided to help me celebrate in another way.
     

     Left to Right: Arjun-dai & Ajay

     Along with some other friend from work we squeezed into the larger of the two rooms in which Arjun, his wife Indeera, and 4 year old son Insome live to have a true feast. Arjun-dai squatted with Indeera serving food onto our plates then handed them out with a flourish, proclaiming “gender balance” in case we hadn’t registered his application of the concept of which many of the men I work with are vocal advocates.

     They had managed to buy a “big fish” from the market and we picked our way through the meat and bones of the stew (some of us less gracefully than others) along with a variety of curried and pickled vegetables and the watery dahl and mountain of rice that is the staple of all our meals. By the time I had cleaned off my plate and made it out to the hand pump, most of the men who had managed to eat twice the amount of food in half the time had already washed their hands and left their plates in a pile, as is customary for guests to do.

     Arjun-dai was pumping the water for me to clean my hands and I asked Ajay, who had waited w/ me to finish and was also washing off, for directions about where to scrape the remains of my plate. He indicated I should just leave it in the pile. But knowing that Indeera would most likely be left to the whole stack herself, I decided to risk a mistake in appropriate guest etiquette and began organizing the dishes, insisting that I would help. “But you’ll need soap” Ajay said, in one last effort to dissuade me. At which point, with out missing a beat, Arjun-dai reached to a nearby ledge grabbed the soap and mangled brillo pad and handed it to me with a grin. We all started to laugh as I began to scrub and Ajay looked at us both, slightly dejected. “Here, you can rinse,” I said, and followed with a wink and, “Gender balance.” After a few minutes had passed, Indeera and the rest of the company had gathered outside to watch us. We were finished quickly, but not before Prakash had grabbed my camera.
     

     Clockwise: Arjun-dai, me, Indeera, Ajay

     As we rinsed our hands and feet and went back inside the house laughing, Ajay said, “This truly is independence day!” And for sure, it is one that I’ll never forget.

441. THE 4TH OF JULY

     July 9, 2014 5:10 am 1 Comment

     The State Department warns American citizens traveling abroad to avoid local political manifestations and any place where Americans or Westerners are known to congregate. I broke both of these rules last week.

     My transgressions – well, at least one of my transgressions – were not on purpose, mind you. The first was in Struga, a resort town on the border with Albania, where the ruling Albanian party named its new party president. I didn’t find out about the changeover until I was actually in Struga and saw Albanian flags everywhere. It’s hard to explain the experience of watching NATO helicopters land on the beach as locals carry out the business of ordinary resort life, the sounds of vendors selling ice cream and kids splashing around in the water interrupted by the earthquake-like tremors of military helicopters just yards away. It was a strange scene. If it weren’t for the rocky beaches, the men in Speedos, and the NATO helicopters, I could easily have mistaken Lake Ohrid for Lake Michigan.

     To add to the bizarre events, later on in the evening both outgoing and incoming party presidents marched through our hotel in a large procession. In effect, the political event came to me as I sat on the hotel terrace and played cards with the members of our executive board.

     The second of my transgressions took place on the 4th of July. My colleagues at the office had been teasing me about how I would spend the holiday, to which I responded, “I’ll camp outside the American Corner all day.” (The American Corner is the section of Bitola where the town’s movie theater and jazz café are located. There’s also a booth where locals can find information about study abroad programs in the United States.) We then decided to attend a jazz concert later on in the evening.

     If my decision to attend a jazz concert on the 4th seems careless, especially at a time when Americans are warned to keep a low profile while traveling abroad, it is incredibly difficult not to be comfortable in Bitola. Most Macedonians have at least one relative in the States (or in Canada), and it’s not uncommon for these relatives to travel back to Macedonia for the summer. Once, while wearing a University of Michigan t-shirt, a teen working at one of the local internet cafes asked me if I had ever been to Petoskey. She explained to me that she had visited northern Michigan while on vacation with an uncle who lives in Detroit. She then rattled off six or seven recommendations for ice cream parlors in Traverse City and on Mackinac Island. Small world, indeed.

     The jazz concert was good, although the 4th of July celebration was likely sparked by a desire to have a fun time rather than a desire to commemorate American independence. I came to this conclusion after the owner of the venue explained to me that he would much rather see Macedonia join a federation with the Latin American states than the European Union. When I asked why, he answered, “Because Latin America knows how to party.”

     That’s exactly how Bitolans are: they like to party. The main street in town, named in honor of Tito, was once described to me as a river that carries locals from café to café. It’s an accurate description. Bitolans, young and old alike, spend the evenings walking from one end of the street to the other, only stopping for the occasional beer, coffee, or conversation. This ritual takes place every night, except for maybe Mondays. As I have been informed, “only the real alcoholics go out on Mondays.”

     So, there I was, on July 4th, on Josip Broz Tito Street, listening to jazz and celebrating American independence. Tito would be proud.

442. Snakes on a Plain

     3:44 am 1 Comment

     The town (using the term very loosely) that I am living in is terribly small and the only thing worth mentioning is that it is extremely hot! I could end right there, or go on a lengthy diatribe on how hot it is, but I will do neither. As someone who had been here as a Peace Corps in the late 60s aptly put it, “it is not the devil’s armpit, but you can definitely see it from there”. The recent onset of the monsoon season has brought about some respite to the heat, but the continuous rain that is supposed to be on its way will be very shortlived and will bring about new challenges for me, namely snakes.

     My irrational fear of snakes has been off the charts since yesterday, when someone happened to stumble upon a common cobra right outside where I live. Unfortunately for the snake, it did not survive the encounter it had with the local. Last week one of the hens, in the house where I live, was killed by a snake. There have been three more spotting in the last week at the house, and from what I gather the worse is yet to come. I do not wish ill on any snakes, I just hope I don’t cross their paths and vice versa. As I was photographing the dead snake yesterday, someone mentioned that it is bad luck to photograph snakes (especially dead ones) and that through some sort of snake-telepathic-ability there would be a few more snakes plotting revenge on not only the person who kills it, but apparently also anyone who documents it. As I snickered upon the clichéd Bollywood-trope she was mentioning, I really was wishing she was wrong; as I already mentioned, I do have an irrational fear of snakes!

     Earlier on the same day, I had another scare with my motorbike. All of a sudden it would not move at all. I live about 5 kilometer away from work and especially in the morning there are hardly any public transportation in the place. In the evenings the buses and jeeps are more frequent, but I have always been suspended outside the bus every time I have had to take it. The thought of my bike not working was as terrifying as seeing a live snake slither by me. Also, it had really been hard to secure a bike in the first place. There is no place to rent a bike probably within a 150 km radius, and finding a spare bike to rent from someone here is almost impossible, as I found out. Due to sheer luck of knowing someone who knows someone that could talk to someone at a bike showroom in Ghorahi, another town 25 km away, I was luckily able to secure the bike for the next 6 weeks that I will be here. Visiting Lawa Juni, the girls hostel which is about 10 km away, or any other field visits have become immensely easy with my now trusted bike, otherwise trying to arrange transportation definitely would have become THE most hassle I would have had to deal with. Anyways, the problem with the bike was a completely worn out clutch plate and some other  issues that was quickly sorted out, and now I do not have to worry about hanging out from a moving bus, for now. 

443. Flash flood and a visit to the Children’s Peace Hostel

     July 8, 2014 2:17 am 1 Comment

     

     The heavy rain washes the ants that line the doorway of the house. The fields look lush green and the children struggle to cross the flooded road to reach the bus stops. The shores of river are lined with fishermen. Mothers give the umbrellas to their children and get soaked themselves. When we look over the bridge to the muddy currents that flow below, aunty tells me the story of an attempted suicide in the river. When the woman failed in her attempt, her parents gifted a motorcycle to their son in-law so that he would keep her happy. We buy a kilogram of sardines for Rs. 580 and watch the pigs turn pink from brown as the rain washes the dirt from their bodies.

     Although the rain has made commute difficult, it has brought a sense of serenity in Tulsipur. The temperature has dropped and the rice fields look picturesque. The hallways in the office are muddy and wet, and surprisingly, no one has turned on the ceiling fans today. I tiptoe my way to my cubicle (after a series of Namaste exchanges, of course!). And thus, my day begins!

     

     Last weekend, Lisha (an intern at BASE) and I visited the Children’s Peace Home hostel, a rescue and rehabilitation hostel for children affected by civil and domestic conflicts and bonded labor. Mr. Bhola Nath Yogi, the founder of the Peace Home has rescued thirty-five children (19 boys and 16 girls), and provides food, shelter, education, and a peaceful and healthy environment for the children to thrive. He runs the hostel through personal savings and some support from his family members. The land is given to him by his mother.

     Meeting Mr. Yogi and spending a day with the children was one of the most humbling experiences that I have had in my life. This is a person who has devoted most of his time and resources to the hostel and is passionate about bettering the children’s lives. In midst of the conversation, Yogi recalled an incident where a girl from the hostel attempted to elope with a man:

     “I was adamant about educating her. I told her that if she did not want to study, she would have to pay the tuition fee. I was not going to lose a child to a life of servitude and grief”

     

     In another conversation with Anju Budhathoki, one of the 16 rescued girls, we came to know that her father had been murdered and her mother died of cancer. Unable to control herself, Anju began to cry. Anju is a ten year old who has seen more adversity
     in life than most of us can even begin to imagine. Unsure of how to console her, I sat next to her and held her while she sobbed some more. The pocket on her blouse had come off. I asked her if she needed a new school uniform. She managed to blurt “no” in her muffled voice, but her eyes told me otherwise.

     Heartbroken and determined to help the children in the best possible way, we decided to conduct a clothing donation program for the Children’s Peace Home through BASE. Hopefully we will collect enough clothing for the children by the end of the summer.

     Please follow my upcoming blog for the individual profiles of the children at Peace Home, and keep commenting!

444. Status Update

     July 7, 2014 9:25 am 2 Comments

     It has been a while since I wrote something, and I tremendously apologize for not being able to update on what has been happening in this side of the world. Upcoming blogs will be much detailed and focus on a single theme that I am working on; this one, however, will be much shorter and will give some account of what has been happening so far at work with Society Welfare Action Nepal (SWAN). Any suggestions and comments is greatly appreciated, and do share with anyone who might be interested.

     At the moment, SWAN focuses its entire work on gender and child rights on abolishing the Kamalari practice and reintegrating ex-Kamalaris back into society. Kamalari practice is a form of indentured servitude of girls primarily belonging to the Tharu ethnic group. Impoverished families sell their daughters as young as six and seven, to work as domestic servants in homes and hotels as a source of income, or to pay off loans. The girls are also lured with the promise of education, and instead are made to work for more than 12 hours every day and even suffer physical and emotional abuse. Even though the practice was made illegal in 2001, and the government proclaimed the complete abolishment of the system in 2013 , the truth is much different in reality than in official papers.

     

     SWAN has been rescuing Kamalari girls since 2001, and has been actively helping rehabilitate them since 2007. The girls hostel Lawa Juni (New Life), established in 2008 and successfully handed over to the government in 2012, houses rescued Kamalari girls who are provided with a safe environment to live and study until they are reunited with their families, or until alternative arrangements can be made to ensure the continuity of a safe and normal life. SWAN seems to be ready to expand its role in ensuring the protection of child’s right not only for ex-kamalari girls, but for any child who is compelled to work due to social or economical reasons.

     Regarding the long term goal of ending child labor in Nepal, there have been previous studies carried out in Ghorahi and Tulsipur , the two major cities in Dang, regarding the instances of child labor. After consulting with some of the individuals associated with the past study, government officials at the Child Welfare Board and personnel at SWAN, it seems that the dearth of a safe home/transit home that can help in the transition of rescued child laborers seems to be one of the main concerns that need to be addressed, even before the active rescue of child workers is initiated. One of my main tasks at the moment has been to explore the role of SWAN along with relevant government bodies in helping realize the details of the transit/safe house.

     Also, I have been busy the past week documenting the work SWAN does in rescuing and rehabilitating ex-kamalaris. Upcoming blogs will touch upon those work conducted by SWAN, along with a special post on Lawa Juni hostel.

      

445. IN SEARCH OF CAMELOT

     2:16 am Leave a Comment

     England is in mourning. Football is over—for them anyway. So there hangs this pall over the town as people pick up the pieces and try to remember what they did before World Cup 2006.

     I sympathize (you see, there’s this little thing in Canada called the Stanley Cup…). Seriously, it’s not because of the football that I sympathize: I’ve more or less been scratching my head since I arrived here in search of something to do, to see, to ooh and ah over. By that I mean I am in search of princes and castles, manors and moats—what I imagined England to be full of: beautiful gardens with trellised Ivy and English roses. Or traditional pubs oozing so much history that you half expect to see a couple of knights walk out exclaiming how delicious the roast beast was while rubbing their armor-clad bellies.

     I should know better. I should remember almost two decades ago (although that is a long time) when I first landed in London and how I felt a tad bewildered and mildly disappointed that something…well…that something more royal didn’t happen. That crossing the Atlantic didn’t magically deposit me in Camelot. In fact, west of London, where I would be living, didn’t look all that different from the neighborhood I had just come from: mundane 60’s architecture, a pizza hut, and similar looking faces staring back at me.

     Of course, once we discovered that marvel of public transportation (i.e. the tube) I did have more than a few Camelot moments, but I also grew quite fond of the not-so-fairytale-like London: the friendly East Indian who would keep his curry shop open that extra five minutes when he saw us come running, or the Chinese man at the dingy corner store who sweetly teased my roommate about her fondness for Diet Coke. And how can I forget the Long-Life milk (that I am still suspicious of to this day) and mushy peas. Or the two young busboys who giggled shyly and stared because they “ain’t never seen ladies drink pints before” (20 years later, I begrudgingly admit that half-pints have their merits, not the least being fewer calories).

     I try to keep that rather clichéd mantra in mind, about finding the extraordinary in the ordinary, because the town where I am staying does not afford many Camelot moments. Not beyond a glimpse of the clock tower or a venerable old church here and there (to be fair, there is a lovely park, just not on my side of town).

     It’s a luxury that I can even consider my physical surroundings and long for more King Arthur and less Burger King, especially considering the struggles of so many people who just want to be free of violence and fear. And perhaps that’s good for now, that I am not swept away by princes (I’m sure my own prince appreciates this too). It allows me to focus on my work and to focus on a different kind of beauty: the kind that comes from people—people who continue to press on and help others despite horrible acts against them, their people, and their lands. I think of some of my fellow AP interns who are in places like Afghanistan and Palestine or New Delhi and Kosovo, places that are all too familiar with abject poverty or ongoing conflict or both. Amid what I imagine must be incredibly difficult surroundings, especially compared to here, it’s evident the beauty of the human spirit survives as was poignantly captured in one of their last blogs.

     Still, thinking of those war torn places and poverty stricken lands makes my rather unexceptional little town in the northeast of England grow just a little bit prettier.

446. INSHALLAH

     July 6, 2014 1:37 am Leave a Comment

     This past week I took my first real trip to Jerusalem for a meeting with theFriedrich Ebert Stiftung Foundation to discuss their support for DWRC and the independent labor movement within Palestine. At the end of August DWRC, with the help of the Friedrich Ebert Stiftung Foundation, will be hosting representatives from the German Trade Unions to discuss strategic support for independent labor unions within Palestine.

     The timing of my meeting was particularly interesting, as the International Labor Organization (ILO) had just released a report on The Situation of Workers in the Occupied Arab Territories. While the report was quite comprehensive in assessing the effects of occupation on the labor movement in Palestine, it lacked a critique of the labor movement itself, and failed to address the political alignment of labor unions within Palestine or the domestic difficulties independent labor unions in Palestine have encountered.

     Last year, DWRC established the Federation of Independent Unions- Palestine (FIUP), the first independent labor coalition within Palestine. The goal of the FIUP is to increase the collective bargaining power of Palestinian workers by creating a coalition of labor unions that advocate solely for workers’ rights. Because social security and social welfare legislation in Palestine is virtually non-existent, and because the trade unions that currently exist too often serve political rather than social purposes, there is a great need for the union services FIUP can provide. However, in Palestine, as I have too often observed, people have a hard time getting what they need.

     Last year FIUP was denied the proper paperwork to establish itself as an independent union, including the documents necessary to establish a bank account, thus rendering its formation ineffective. Although the Palestinian Authority suggested that FIUP reapply for approval in the future, the Ministry of Labor indicated that they would not be approved until the PA passed a new labor law, which has seen no progress in the past year. To the best of my ability I expressed DWRC’s frustration at the current standstill over FIUP’s status, and how until the PA issued FIUP the documents it needs to establish a functioning union the independent labor movement remained tied by internal bureaucracy.

     In Palestine everything, both internal and external, is an uphill battle. It’s exceptionally frustrating at times, but it is nice to know that Palestinians aren’t completely alone. The Friedrich Ebert Stiftung Foundation assured me that they would do everything they could to advocate for the approval of FIUP, which, inshallah, will happen sometime soon.

     Speaking of which, inshallah has become a permanent part of my vocabulary here. I think I used this term quite often when I was home and when I was in Arabic class, but it wasn’t the same. I would say, inshallah I will not fail another Arabic quiz. Inshallah I will finish my wajib so I can go to bed before 3 A.M. Inshallah I will get a seat on the subway. Inshallah I will make it to econ recitation.

     I don’t think I really understood inshallah before I came here. So I will tell you some of the things I say inshallah for now.

     My colleague at DWRC, Rula, who I was supposed to be working with shoulder-to-shoulder all summer was diagnosed, out of nowhere, with cancer. She was one of Eliza’s favorite, most beloved co-workers at DWRC last summer. In fact, when Eliza first got to Palestine she stayed with Rula’s family. Inshallah Rula will come back to work, but I know this won’t happen.

     And my favorite place in Palestine, quite possibly my favorite place on earth, has been living under a military curfew for over a week. Ni’lin has been completely occupied by the Israeli military. All the entrances have been sealed, people cannot leave the village to get to work, shopkeepers cannot open their shops, women cannot buy the necessities they need for the kids who melt my heart. You are not allowed to walk in the streets. Hindi has stayed at his family home in the village to shoot video for Al Jazeera International and network with international media, who have actually been fantastic at drawing attention to the severity of the situation in Ni’lin.

     On Saturday my friend Emma and I were allowed entrance into Ni’lin, despite the military curfew. The villagers had planned a demonstration for Saturday at 6 P.M. They had planned to break the curfew to fly 200 Palestinian flags over the construction site of the wall. This never happened. I can’t properly explain what did happen, so I won’t even try. What I will say is that for a long period of time it didn’t look like Emma and I would be leaving Ni’lin, but eventually we did leave and now I just hope we can still go back.

     Inshallah, tomorrow a group of us from Ramallah will be allowed to enter the village to bring food relief and medical supplies. Inshallah the people of Ni’lin can have a normal life.

     Please join the Ni’lin Village Facebook Group
     http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#/group.php?gid=18853218651

     Read more about Ni’lin
     http://www.nytimes.com/reuters/world/international-palestinians-israel-barrier.html?_r=2&oref=slogin&oref=slogin

     http://english.aljazeera.net/news/middleeast/2008/07/2008769287944940.html

     http://www.maannews.net/en/index.php?opr=ShowDetails&ID=30351

     View all my photos of Palestine
     http://www.flickr.com/photos/27122280@N02/

447. HEEDING THE CALL OF THE BANDHAS?

     July 4, 2014 4:08 am Leave a Comment

     I had this great idea. I was going to go to Kathmandu to meet with several elections experts to do some networking for COCAP and to elicit their help with a joint proposal we’re working on locally. I had meetings scheduled, ideas to run by them, and was ready to go. Unfortunately so far, it is all for naught.

     For almost a week now I’ve been prevented from traveling to Kathmandu (or even to either of the “nearby” cities from where I could fly) due to 3 different bandhas. These bandhas are in multiple cities, called by 3 different groups, and cumulatively they shut down all movement in the entire country.

     As inconvenient as this has been for me, there have been serious ramifications particularly in Eastern Nepal as well as across the country. Trucks filled with vegetables are rotting, fuel shortages are occurring, grooms and their families are being prevented from traveling to their waiting brides, and colleagues at my organizations have been prevented from attending various skill building and program related trainings.

     Several questions logically spring to the western mind. Why don’t they just drive around a different route that isn’t blocked? “Why isn’t some law enforcement body stopping these groups from shutting down the roads?” What can be done to make these bandhas stop?

     Unfortunately, in the Nepalese context the answers are less than straightforward.
     People don’t use alternative routes to blocked roads because there aren’t any. The entire country has one major highway (which, for the record isn’t as nice as most of the 2-lane dirt roads I’ve experienced back home). They are in the process of building some alternate roads, but they are slow in coming.

     As for law enforcement, the government is hesitant to mobilize them at this point because they are afraid to destabilize things before the constitutional assembly election (some people I’ve talked to also theorize that certain members of the government actually want the violence to escalate and the country to destabilize because that provides a political advantage).

     I’ve asked my Nepalese colleagues how they think this situation should be addressed. They emphatically believe that at heart of the issue is the need for “inclusion” in Nepal’s political life. If those in power were seriously in dialogue with representatives of these groups they would not have to resort to these means to try to make their voice heard.

     Essentially, my colleagues disagree with the methods (and particularly the violence) of these groups but they fundamentally relate to the issues they are raising. They believe that if the government would sit down and listen to the demands of the groups, the bandhas would stop and there would be a possibility of actually addressing the pressing issues they are trying to raise.

     Technorati Profile

448. Video Diary 1.5 VISA!

     July 2, 2014 5:15 pm 2 Comments

     While waiting for my visa, I shared the work that Vikalp does to promote women’s rights in India with the women in my family.

     It is a beautiful connection; a bridge between strong women from Wisconsin and strong women in India.

     I asked all of the women in my family to share one word that represents women’s rights to them. Here’s what they said… 

      [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:9,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”7″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     While waiting for my visa, I shared the work that Vikalp does to promote women’s rights in India with the women in my family.<\/span><\/p>

     It is a beautiful connection; a bridge between strong women from Wisconsin and strong women in India.<\/span><\/p>

     I asked all of the women in my family to share one word that represents women’s rights to them. Here’s what they said… <\/span><\/p>\n”,”class”:””},{“id”:”6″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”
     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:3,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     Check out my first video blog! <\/p>\n

     [content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:4,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”

     I woke up to the chant of a group of children rallying to improve the environmental condition of Nepal on the occasion of World Environment Day. I got up and walked to the balcony to get a closer look. This was a group of around fifty children, around eleven to fifteen years of age, united in an attempt to demand a cleaner and safer future for themselves: an option that more than half of the children in Nepal cannot pursue, due to poverty, illiteracy and a horrendous form of modern slavery: bonded child labor. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n\n

     A report by the International Labor Organization states that over three million children are employed in Nepal, mostly in the rural, poor regions. While the Nepalese government has recognized bonded child labor as illegal and punishable by law, the lack of prosecution has curtailed the attempts of organizations that seek to combat the crime. As a Peace Fellow for the Advocacy Project, I will be working with Backward Society Education (BASE)<\/a> , situated in the western Terai region of Nepal. BASE works to eradicate poverty, illiteracy and discrimination against marginalized communities. Uprooting child bonded labor is one of BASE\u2019s main goals and it strives to achieve it persistently. Founded by Dilli Chaudhary, a Peace activist who has done remarkable work in freeing other marginalized communities including kamaiyas<\/i> and kamlaris<\/i> from bonded labor, BASE is now recognized as one of the most prominent organizations in Nepal. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n\n

     In the ten-week period of the Fellowship, I will be doing my part in helping BASE end the practice of child labor exploitation in Nepal. I will be collaborating with two other Fellows who are assigned to work at Society Welfare Action Nepal (SWAN)<\/a>  and CONCERN, other NGOs in Nepal that work for the same issue. We will be working together to create a proposal that demands strict prosecution of the offenders of illegal child labor, while strengthening rehabilitation options for the rescued bonded children. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n\n

     I feel very determined about undertaking the journey of putting an end to one of the worst cases of human rights violation. While I am aware that the journey is going to be a tough one, considering the high level of corruption in the country and lack of sustainable alternatives for the bonded children, I believe that unearthing the root cause of bonded child labor will substantially ease the process of legalizing prosecution. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n\n

     I am very thankful to the Advocacy Project for making me a part of an endeavor that can potentially change the lives of millions. I am very excited to work with the two other fellows Katerina Canyon<\/a>  and Sugam Singh<\/a> , and hope to succeed in our journey to give voice to the voiceless!  <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n\n

     Follow my journey to combat illegal child labor for the next ten weeks. Please leave your reactions and comments below and I will be happy to respond whenever I can!  <\/span><\/span><\/p>“,”class”:””},{“id”:”3″,”block”:”video”,”url”:”https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/watch?v=4TptCrm2vaE”,”class”:””,”ratio”:”16:9″,”scale”:”default”,”size”:{“width”:500,”height”:281}}]}[/content-builder]

449. JOLLY OLDE ENGLAND

     June 5, 2014 2:18 am Leave a Comment

     Due to technical difficulties (yes, they even have them in developed countries) these blogs are about 4 – 5 days behind real time.

     Greetings everyone (yes, you can all let go that collective breath you’ve been holding over my safe arrival in the UK). I arrived to a sunny, steamy England yesterday (so happy I threw that extra wool sweater in my bag). My host from UKAGW was waiting for me at the airport—equally sunny in her crisp yellow blouse and sparkling sunglasses. Off we zoomed down the motorway during which I spent a good deal of time clutching the car door because although my brain understood this was England and they drive on the other side of the road, my body did not.

     To take my body off my mind, I tried the proverbial small talk and asked my host where she was from. To which she slowly (and patiently) replied, “well, I suppose we’re from Lancashire… But of course we didn’t stay there, you know? We traveled.” (Ah yes Lynne, thus the term “Travellers.”) Needless to say, I am now safely ensconced in the English countryside, not too far from the village of Frodsham (and yes, it’s as quaint as it sounds). My host’s home sits on a small lake with England’s oldest forest, Delamere, ringing the other side—all quite tranquil. Her son and his family live just down the road and already the grandchildren have been over to say hello. They are lovely kids: interesting, polite, and full of questions—the first of which found me explaining that no, it was not common practice for Americans to book their pets into five-star hotels (hm, I think I have Paris Hilton to thank for that misconception).

     And who or what do I have to thank for my own misconceptions about what I would encounter here? Certainly I had them or else I wouldn’t be surprised by anything and already I am: by the warmth and kindness of my host; by her welcoming family and the genuine affection they seem to have for each other; by placing their trust in a stranger when clearly their history of discrimination suggests they have not had the same trust placed in them. I am sure the list will grow in the coming months. Until then, it’s tea time.

450. BUNNIES FOR GAZA

     1:40 am Leave a Comment

     I have only been at work for a week and I already feel like I have done more than I do all semester (Arabic homework excluded). The DWRC is working on so many projects right now that there is very little time to bring me up to speed on everything. Rather, I have been thrust right in the middle of the Palestinian policy debate regarding occupation, economics, organizing, and labor rights.

     My first day started out with assisting in the finalization of an open letter to be submitted to the UN High Level Conference on World Food Security. Dr. Hamdi, Coordinator of Legal Research at DWRC, is also the Director of the Global Call to Action Against Poverty (GCAP) in Palestine. In Palestine, food relief is not enough. Eradicating the food insecurity problem will only come through the change in the policies that have created it. Poverty and food insecurity in Palestine is not due to production. Palestinians are more than capable of taking care of themselves but are limited in their ability to achieve this because of the effects of living under occupation. Agricultural production and access to markets in Palestine is dependent on Israeli policies, and food insecurity stems from this systematic separation of Palestinians from their fertile land.

     This past week, I attended two meetings the DWRC held with US based groups visiting Palestine to assess the situation on the ground and learn more about the contributions DWRC has made to eliminate unemployment, organize, and train the Palestinian work force. In both meetings, the groups were really shocked to hear how the standard of living, if you can even call it that, in Gaza has deteriorated. In the US, all our news about Gaza is politically motivated and doesn’t properly explain the humanitarian crisis there.

     The DWRC has an office in Gaza, but everyone in my office in Ramallah keeps telling me how our colleagues there have their hands tied. Many of our colleagues in Gaza are unable to get to work. Due to the Israeli closure of Gaza’s borders, and the complete shut down of exports and imports, Gaza hasn’t received a fuel shipment since April 2, 2008. My supervisor, Carine, told me that people are running their cars on cooking oil, which has serious environmental ramifications, and as a result you need to wear a mask or cover your mouth when you walk down a crowded road. In the past, DWRC has run emergency unemployment projects in Gaza, but because of the Israeli siege, the DWRC cannot properly plan or implement any projects in Gaza to organize unemployed workers or alleviate the suffering there. This past year, 95% of the private sector closed down due to the inability to import raw materials for manufacturing, and then export a finished good. In Gaza, 700,000 people have lost their jobs. Over 1 million are dependent on UN food relief.

     Here in Ramallah, which can sometimes feel like a bubble, it is hard to imagine this. Ramallah is a bustling society with markets everywhere you turn. There are tons of construction sites and beautiful buildings and views and tons of people who are just as busy as me. When I get home from work, there are always elaborate dinner plans that include all of my roommates, their friends, and tons of conversation and laughter. There is also an abundance of laptops, digital cameras, and other electrical devices in our living room, and everyone is always confused about which electrical cord belongs to who.

     Yesterday my roommate Anan bought me a baby bunny. On the corner by our house they sell rabbits for consumption, which shouldn’t bother me at all, except for the fact that I had a pet bunny as a child, and ahibtu arnaaby ktheeran (I loved my bunny a lot). So now, in addition to several roommates and friends, and tons of electrical appliances for communication and information facilitation, our house contains Mish Mish Ahmadinejad, my black and white baby bunny.

     With Mish Mish in my lap, we discussed the potential sustainability of a rabbit farming project in Gaza. They are definitely easy to grow, multiply quickly, and provide adequate nourishment. But we identified two problems: there is not enough produce to feed people, much less the bunnies, and then there is the problem of getting the bunnies in. Even bunnies as cute and harmless as Mish Mish are turned away at the border into Gaza.

451. Better late than never!

     May 31, 2014 11:56 am 4 Comments

     What an incredible (exciting, adventurous, overwhelming, amazing) opportunity I’ve been given! I discovered just two short weeks ago that I was accepted as a Peace Fellow for The Advocacy Project working with Vikalp Women’s Group in Gujarat, India.

     Is this real?

     In those two weeks I had to prepare (leave my job, move out of my apartment, say goodbye to family and friends) and fly to Washington D.C. for weeklong training. Although short timing, it couldn’t have possibly been better. During training I was fortunate to meet Indira and Maya, co-directors of Vikalp, in New York. They both greeted me with a huge hug. Their incredibly warm, gentle, peaceful presence instantly eased any worry I had. I was able to share a cup of tea with them and discuss what we will be working on this summer.

     Vikalp helps marginalized women from the Tribal and Dalit communities who have enormous difficulty accessing the legal system. In addition, Vikalp assists transgender people, particularly female to males, facing harassment, prejudice, and even violence from their own families.

     This year Vikalp aims to open three shelters in urban areas providing refuge to women experiencing domestic violence and harassment based on gender. These shelters will help women understand their rights, find employment, and will refer them to skills training. Women would be accommodated sanctuary in the shelters for approximately three months.

     My biggest goal for this summer is working alongside Indira and Maya in making Vikalp’s visions a reality. I will be visiting beneficiaries; securing locations for courts and shelters; developing proposals; and seeking funds to support these projects. In addition, I look forward to working with tribal women artists to create pieces for an advocacy quilt that will be displayed by AP and others to promote the work of Vikalp.

     Being accepted as a Peace Fellow meant picking up everything and making some major changes in my life – changes I am both excited and ready for. I certainly have my work cut out for me and although I am leaving training with a clear plan of what I’ll be working on… I’ve been advised by previous fellows to be prepared for plans to change at any moment and to be as flexible and adaptable as possible! I am eager to head off to Gujarat in a few weeks (fingers crossed for the arrival of my visa!). 

452. AHLAN WA SAHLAN

     May 30, 2014 1:41 am Leave a Comment

     I am finally settled in Ramallah and I must say that of all the Advocacy Project Fellows this summer I am definitely the luckiest one. I am replacing my dear friend Eliza’s position as a Peace Fellow with the Center for Democracy and Worker’s Rights (DWRC) here in Ramallah. Thanks to Eliza’s work last summer, I have been welcomed with open arms. And thanks to Eliza, I had everything figured out before I arrived. Eliza’s roommate from last summer has arranged almost everything for me. I can’t really explain what it was like to finally meet him. Between endless hours of G-Chat over the past 3 months (which included some much needed help with my Arabic homework) and everything Eliza has told me about him, it was like being reunited with someone I already knew and loved. At the DWRC, everyone wanted to talk to me about Eliza. “Sadeeqa Eliza, Sadeeqa Eliza” (which means Eliza’s friend) is all I heard for the first hour of my first day on Thursday. And so, because I am Eliza’s friend, I have been welcomed with open arms.

     But I think Palestinians welcome everyone this way. It is nearly impossible, or at least extremely difficult, for anyone from Ramallah to have met me at the airport in Tel Aviv, or even in Jerusalem, so Eliza’s roommate directed me to ask someone to borrow their phone and call him when I got in to Almanara, which is just minutes from his house in Ramallah. I couldn’t quite imagine someone just giving me their cellphone. But before I even had both of my feet out of the cab in Almanara I was surrounded by six people asking me if I needed help with my bags, if I knew where I was going, if I was hungry, if I needed anything at all. What I really need, I told them, is a phone. Six cellphones were simultaneously thrust at me. This is Palestine. It is home to the most generous people on earth.

     I know most of you reading this want to hear about my experience with the checkpoints. I am not going to tell you about it. Regardless of whatever hassle I might have, for me the checkpoints are nothing. At the end of the day my life and my livelihood is not dependent on getting through. For hundreds of thousands of Palestinian workers, getting through the checkpoints to go to work means everything. It means the difference of a daily wage, whether they can support their families and offer their children a future. For me, the stakes of being stopped, questioned or detained are not even remotely applicable. My job with the Advocacy Project and with the DWRC is to advocate for these workers, and so it is their experience I will be telling you about.

     It just so happens that Eliza’s old roommate is from the village of Nilin. Right now, there are plans to build the separation wall through the village of Nilin, which will confiscate 2700 dunums of the villagers agriculture land and completely surround the village, cutting off Nilin’s access to schools, hospitals, markets, and of course, the majority of jobs. Nilin is a village of 5,000 people, most of whom are employed outside of Nilin. The construction of the wall will seriously jeopardize the economic survival of nearly 30-40% of the workers in Nilin, who are currently employed in Israel.

     The village has been organizing all kinds of non-violent protests against the wall for the past two weeks, which included calling for a general strike. Today, which is Friday, we went to Nilin for a demonstration. Close to 300 people prayed on the land that belongs to them, and their fathers before them, and then walked up to the site of where the wall will be built. Along the way, there were black pits of soot from where the Israeli Army has already started burning the olive trees. It is an incredibly difficult situation, there is no good way to describe what the people of Nilin will face if they lose their livelihood to the wall.

     But in Palestine, even in the most compromising situations, there is always hope. In Nilin, I made my new best friend, a third grader who attends primary school in Ramallah where her father works. Her English and my Arabic are on the same exact level, and so we sat under a 100 year old olive tree exchanging new words and email addresses. When I got back to Ramallah she had already sent me an invitation to chat. And so, here in Ramallah, in Nilin, in all of Palestine despite everything else there are always these beautiful things, these things, in the words of Darwish, that make life worth living.

453. ROMA: THEIR LAND. THEIR RIGHTS. MY HELP?

     May 28, 2014 2:18 am Leave a Comment

     I have the great privilege of working with the United Kingdom Association of Gypsy Women (UKAGW) this summer. They are a small, but mighty, organization that campaigns for the rights of UK Travellers and European Roma. My main objective is to support them in their mission to combat the European-wide practice of evicting Roma and Travellers from their land and homes.

     The problem of evictions is close to my heart, having spent the last year of graduate school researching a related topic: the displacement of minorities and low-income populations in North America due to gentrification. Having said that, I want to be careful not to draw too many parallels–especially at this early stage–between the situation of European Roma and Travellers, and the situation of different groups in North America. Yet, it is impossible to deny the shared theme of discrimination and oppression that exists for both groups.

     I am excited and nervous about working with UKAGW. Most of my background is academic, and thus, theoretical. Putting theory into practice will be an interesting challenge. I know I will learn a great deal from the women at UKAGW and from the people they serve which will be a tremendous help to me, an ultimately, I hope, to them. After all, it is in the sharing of information and stories that one finds common ground and the strongest bridges are built.

     Speaking of bridges, another overarching focus of my internship is to help create a network of the different Roma advocacy groups across Europe and the UK. While I am not entirely clear on how best to obtain this objective, I am clear on what my objective is: helping UKAGW and other Roma advocacy groups make sure their voices are heard. These groups are typically those with the quietest political voice and I am eager to help pump up their volume!

     That’s it for now, more thoughts to come as my departure date (June 8) draws nearer.

454. GETTING STARTED

     May 23, 2014 5:12 am Leave a Comment

     Three years ago, a Polish newspaper, Gazeta Wyborcza, republished a story originally written in 1989 about a young boy who wanted to become president. The story highlighted the atmosphere of the time: young Poles were enthusiastic and optimistic. The time was one of excitement, with Poles looking forward to the promises of life in a democratic society. A reporter for Gazeta Wyborcza tracked down this boy over fifteen years later to see whether his outlook had changed. Today, this same boy, once so full of ambition, is apathetic. The boy who once dreamed of becoming president now wants nothing to do with politics and is uncertain of his future.

     Poland is not alone in this regard. Throughout the entire ex-Communist bloc, the possibilities of democracy were replaced over the years by political back-biting, economic difficulties, and inter-ethnic tensions. Macedonia, while spared the large-scale bloodshed of other former-Yugoslav states, has seen its share of political difficulties. While there are signs that conditions are improving, such as the increase in rights for ethnic Albanians that followed the Ohrid Framework Agreement, voter turnout remains low, as does participation in civil society. Even as Macedonia takes steps to join the EU and NATO, indifference among young people is common.

     In the very short time I have in Macedonia, I hope that I will be able to help the Youth Cultural Centre in Bitola develop and expand outreach for its youth volunteerism program. It seems like such a small step, but I am optimistic that organizing and promoting cultural activities for young people is a step in the right direction.

     Of course, like any other student intern, I am experiencing the gamut of emotions in preparing for my work this summer. My mood fluctuates from nervousness to excitement. I also harbor no illusions. Ten weeks is not a lot of time for an American who does not speak the local languages or even understand the complexities of Macedonian society to combat apathy. But I am willing to try.

      

455. HERE I GO!

     4:12 am Leave a Comment

     The countdown has begun. I’m leaving for Nepal in a few days. I’ve been doing strange things like having trouble falling asleep and waking up before my alarm goes off. These are not typical behaviors for me, especially considering just a few days ago I finished a grueling semester and my sleep reserves have definitely been depleted. The only logical reason: I’m excited (and honestly, a little nervous too).

     The issue weighing on my mind most at the moment is the fact that I’ll be going off to the remote town of Gaighat. I have only been able to locate it on one map and it isn’t mentioned in any travel books. Gaighat is in southeast Nepal, in the Terai region. Though some reports indicate the “southeastern Terai” is the most currently unstable area of the country, that information is not what causes my nerves.

     Naively or not, I am more concerned about the particulars of my daily life than my physical safety in the larger picture. I am looking forward to knowing where I will be staying, if there will be consistent & reliable internet access, and how long the trip will be to Kathmandu – essentially, I want to wrap my head around (and emotionally prepare for?) how isolated I’ll be. Luckily, I’ll have a solid few days in Kathmandu to figure much of this out before I head off.

     I am also constantly musing about how and if I will be able to integrate into the work being done by COCAP and NESPEC (the two NGOs I will be working with). Will I really be able to make any meaningful contribution during the short time I am there? I understand and whole heartedly agree with the mission and methods of The Advocacy Project; particularly their focus on sustainability and providing local NGOs with tools to use at their discretion to empower civil society. Meanwhile the skeptic in me wonders how this excellent theory will transfer into practice, and if there is anything I can do to facilitate that process.

     To balance out the gloom, I also feel enormous excitement revolving around this far-flung placement with so many unknowns. The Terai is reported to be one of the most politically interesting regions of Nepal with great diversity and subsequently, some of the greatest challenges to long term peace. There is no doubt the region itself will add richness and complexity to my experience.

     The flip side of the possible isolation is the inconceivable potential to come to know an area largely unexplored by Westerners. I have the chance to learn everything I can about the area and hopefully serve as a resource – both for locals and Westerner travelers or NGOs who do not have much experience there.

     And beyond all that, as my Berkeley professor pointed out, I may get to wake up every morning with a direct view of Mt. Everest! Could that magic really come true?

     Thus, with my bags almost packed, my vaccinations done, and my first aid kit stocked, I guess there is only one thing left to do…..

     Remind myself to stay flexible, trust it will all work out, take a deep breath, close my eyes, and……

     JUMP!!

456. AN INTERVIEW WITH DOCUMENTARY FILMMAKER SHELLEY SAYWELL

     May 12, 2014 5:40 am 224 Comments

     In Devil’s Bargain, Saywell tracks the global small arms trade. Through the film, she illustrates the need for an international treaty to end the illegal flow of small arms, which fuels war and results in massive death and destruction.

     Based in Toronto, Shelley Saywell established Bashari Film Productions Inc. in 1987, to produce documentary films that focus on issues of human rights. Through her films, she hopes to provide people with a perspective they might not otherwise receive, introducing the world to individuals both suffering from human rights violations and causing them.

     Saywell, who has been honored with UNESCO’s Gandhi Silver Medal for Promoting the Culture of Peace in 1997 and an Emmy in 2001 for Outstanding Investigative Journalism, was kind enough to participate in an interview with me, the questions and answers of which are below.

     DEVILS BARGAIN
     DEVILS BARGAIN

     In your film, Devil’s Bargain, you focus for some time on violence (and rape) against women committed by soldiers in war-torn countries. Do you think that the access these soldiers have to firearms empowers them to commit such crimes?

     Absolutely I do. In 1995 I made a film about rape as a weapon of war focusing on rape in the Balkans, and small arms and light weapons were a major contributor to that terror campaign. Women have no hope against armed men who have become inured to the violence and use the gun as a symbol of power and masculinity. I asked why rape had become so prevalent in war and “soft conflict” zones, and the answer was “rape inflicts maximum pain”, and therefore is the most powerful attack mechanism – with the least amount of risk to the perpetrator. The proliferation of guns, easy for any kid to use, have made this a daily occurrence in places like the Congo – where many women have been raped multiple times, Somalia, Darfur, and too many other places.

     Taking it back to a domestic context (and one which applies to non-war torn countries), do you think that individuals that are abusive and that have access to guns are empowered by their firearms, and thus more abusive?

     I believe that. I am making a film about domestic violence in the immigrant South Asian/Arab community here. In two of the stories I’m following the father/brother killed with a gun. In one case, the gun he used was being “stored for a friend”, in another – a cabbie, shot both of his daughters multiple times. Before that, he’d threatened them and their mother, shot out windows and car tires. He might still have killed them without the gun, but the link of its possession to his violence and anger can’t be overlooked. He felt powerless in our society, and the gun was a symbol of power to him according to his wife.

     I made another film years ago called Angry Girls about girls and violence in Toronto. I was shocked to learn that the majority of the teenage girls I was following had witnessed or experienced the death of a friend or family member by gun violence. We are talking about the life of high school girls in many poorer neighbourhoods in Toronto.

     I’ve had a lot of individuals comment to me that for the Disarming Domestic Violence campaign to focus solely on women is unfair and biased. Statistically, men make up the majority of perpetrators in cases of domestic abuse. In addition, they also own the majority of firearms. When you were filming Devil’s Bargain, did you come across many women involved in the illicit trade of small arms (because there were none featured in the film)? If so, what were their roles?

     There were no women involved in the illicit trafficking of weapons that I found. That isn’t a scientific survey – but there were no female arms dealers that came across our radar, and we spent a year researching and reading reports before we began filming. I think stats would bear out that this is predominantly a male game. There were women involved in sales and PR for the big gun shows and “legal” trade, though much fewer than men.

     Do you think the benefits of a screening process such as the one in Canada’s Firearms Act outweighs whatever the administrative/enforcement costs may be?

     Yes. When we measure COST we have to remember what these weapons do, in terms of individual terror and social instability. When I grew up we never heard of gun violence in Toronto – that was New York or Detroit or somewhere else. Now guns are becoming endemic. We need to spend whatever it costs to try to control and register legal guns – so that the illicit trafficking can be monitored and stemmed.

     Individuals who legally own their firearms and use them for sportsmanship purposes complain that it’s unfair to hold law-abiding citizens responsible for the protection of others through the Firearms Act and the registry. How would you address this?

     If you own a firearm legally, then you should appreciate and support the necessity of having strict controls. I never understand the attitudes – especially of Americans with their Second Amendment rights – who believe binding gun laws and international treaties will somehow impinge on their rights. All you have to do is look at a failed state like Somalia, where the law IS the gun, to know what the worst case alternative is. The Registry is essential.

457. AN INTERVIEW WITH DETECTIVE RICK HAWES, PEEL REGIONAL POLICE

     5:39 am Leave a Comment

     This week I was lucky enough to meet and talk with Detective Rick Hawes of the Peel Regional Police in Ontario. Detective Hawes has been a police officer since 1978 and for the last four and a half years, has been the Coordinator for the Family Violence Unit.

     As part of his position, Detective Hawes holds multi-day classroom seminars for officers on how to properly handle domestic dispute calls, as they are much different from other situations to which officers respond.

     Talking with Detective Hawes solidified for me many of the things I have learned and heard during my weeks in Canada. For example, knowledge of a firearm in the home makes it more difficult for a victim of domestic abuse to seek help and leave their abuser, as firearms act as tools of intimidation and work to induce fear. In fact, on the question form victims are asked to complete when officers respond to a domestic call, six out of the twenty-eight questions are related to firearms and licensure.

     In addition, exiting an abusive relationship is not as simple as just making the decision to leave and leaving. Often times, there are elements involved in abusive relationships that prevent victims from seeking help, such as children, housing, or financial dependency.

     When I asked Detective Hawes about the registry included in Canada’s Firearms Act, he asserted that it is helpful in eliminating the guessing game of whether or not households to which officers respond have firearms.

     Although cautious officers responding to calls never assume that a home is free of firearms even if the registry has nothing on record (especially with the rise of unregistered firearms by once legal owners), Detective Hawes views the registry as a very useful safety tool for both officers and victims. The only substantial argument Detective Hawes has heard against the Firearms Act relates to cost and according to him, it is hard to put a price on public safety.

     Detective Hawes also views the Firearms Act as an aide to the Justice of Peace throughout the court process against perpetrators of domestic abuse. During the bail hearing, if it is revealed through the registry that more firearms are registered to the perpetrator than officers were able to seize, the perpetrator will be held until they are all accounted for.

     Additionally, during the court process, the firearms license of a perpetrator is seized and put on review, prohibiting the individual from owning or acquiring any type of firearm. Clearly, these measures act to safeguard victims from further violence through the use of a firearm.

     I stated above that I was lucky enough to spend time talking with Detective Hawes; this is because during my time in Canada, I have not met anyone more dedicated to tackling the issue of family violence. Not only does Detective Hawes work with officers to help them understand the complexities of domestic abuse, but he also works with the community to help prevent abuse from ever taking place, and prioritizes victim safety. I am very grateful to the time Detective Hawes was willing to spend with me, and find his commitment to prevent and end domestic abuse admirable.
     

458. ON THE ACCUSATION OF CENSORSHIP

     5:39 am 303 Comments

     I arrived in Canada as a fellow with the Advocacy Project under the false hope that people who disagree with me would at least listen to what I have to say, respecting who I am as a person. Boy was I wrong.

     I was invited by a member of CanadianGunNutz.com to participate on the pro-gun website in a discussion thread regarding gun control. The member invited me through the following statement: “If you are interested in having a discussion over why my colleagues and I think the Canadian system of gun control compromises public safety, please, come visit us on our website. One of your posters already posted the link. I’ll even start a thread for you in our political discussion forum (In the “Firearms Politics” section).”

     So, I registered with the website; after all, I had been invited to. I found thread discussions dedicated to each one of my entries, and one entitled ‘Elizabeth Mandelman-An Open Invitation to Discuss Gun Control’. Unfortunately, many of the threads that should focus on the issue of gun control instead attack me personally, and are quite vulgar. I wasn’t surprised, as I have been receiving the same type of comments on my entries. As a result, I decided not to participate in the discussion.

     Rather than debating my opinion of gun control and its effectiveness in preventing domestic violence, I have become the major focus of attack. This is unacceptable, and undermines the real discussion that should be taking place. As a practice, I have been deleting comments that attack me or my academic integrity, and I will continue to do so. In addition, I have removed the comments of individuals who have been particularly offensive and disrespectful of my personal character, and will no longer post comments that they submit. Call this censorship if you like, but healthy debate should focus on the issue at hand and not the person advocating for or against it.

459. AN INTERVIEW WITH WENDY CUKIER, COALITION FOR GUN CONTROL

     5:38 am 89 Comments

     In Canada, 85% of female homicide victims are murdered by their partners and in Ontario, possession or access to firearms is the fifth leading risk factor for femicide.  These reasons are just two among many that led Wendy Cukier to work for stronger gun control in Canada.

     For those of you who do not know who Wendy Cukier is, you must not be from Canada.  Ms. Cukier, in addition to being a Professor at Ryerson University in Toronto, is a co-founder and the current President of the Coalition for Gun Control(CGC).

     The Coalition for Gun Control is an alliance of more than 300 major policing, public safety and violence prevention organizations including the Canadian Association of Chiefs of Police, Canadian Public Health Association, and YWCA of Canada.  It is also a founding member of IANSA.

     The Coalition was founded in the wake of the Montreal Massacre.  In 1989, a twenty-five year old named Marc Lépine entered a classroom at the École Polytechnique in Montreal, armed with a legally obtained semi-automatic rifle.

     Lépine moved all of the women to one side of the classroom and shot them, declaring that he hated women and that he was ‘fighting feminism’.  He then roamed the corridors, entered another classroom and the cafeteria, specifically targeted women, and shot them.  In total, fourteen women were killed and ten were injured.

     The mission of the Coalition is to reduce gun violence, injury, and crime.  As the organization’s President, Cukier has for years been one of Canada’s leading voices on the necessity of gun control.  Working together with the police, health care agencies, women’s groups, and victims, CGC and Cukier have helped to lead the efforts to defend Canada’s Firearms Act.

      

     
     coalition for gun control

      

     When Ms. Cukier took time to sit down with me last week for an interview, one question I posed relates to the interrelatedness of licensing and the registry.  I explained that many opponents of the registry claim it to be unnecessary, and asked how she would explain that the two are indeed interconnected.

     In response, Ms. Cukier asserted that as Canada’s Supreme Court concluded in their 2000 opinion regarding the Act’s constitutionality, it would be impossible to ensure that licensed individuals do not give their guns to others not holding a license without the registry.  The registration of firearms helps to enforce the licensing provisions of the Act.

     To explain this, Ms. Cukier provided the example that if an individual has a license and purchases firearms without a registration requirement, there is no way to hold them accountable for those firearms or to prevent them from lending or giving them to an unlicensed person. In other words, registration results in accountability.

     In addition, if a prohibition order is placed on someone and their firearms license is taken away, without the registry, the police have no way to know what firearms they should be seizing.

     Lastly, Ms. Cukier explained that if guns are stolen after being improperly stored, owners are unlikely to report the theft as required by law. If guns are registered, in effect attaching the name of the gun owners to the firearm, owners are more likely to behave responsibly. Registration is an essential component in preventing the diversion of legal guns to illegal markets.

     Clearly, the licensing and registry provisions included in the Firearms Act are interrelated, and licensing on its own cannot do what licensing and the registry can together.  As Canada’s Supreme Court pointed out in their 2000 opinion on the constitutionality of the Act, the registry helps police officers to take preventative measures, and also aides in holding people who have misused firearms or sold them illegally responsible for their actions.

     In closing, I would like to point out that since December 1^st, 1998 (when the Firearms Act was first implemented) the notification line, which allows concerned spouses or individuals to report their objections about the acquisition of a firearm by someone they know, has received over 22,000 calls.

     Additionally, and in part due to Canada’s Firearms Act, there has been a 67% decrease of female homicides by firearms; while the rate of female homicideswithout firearms has only decreased by 10%.   Canada’s gun control law has been identified as a best practice globally in the reduction of armed violence against women.

460. AN INTERVIEW WITH DR. ALOK MUKHERJEE, CHAIR, TORONTO POLICE SERVICES BOARD

     5:27 am 57 Comments

     Dr. Alok Mukherjee is the current Chair of Toronto’s Police Services Board.  He joined the board in 2004, having been appointed by the City Council, and was elected by his colleagues as Chair in 2005.

     Prior to his service with the Board, Dr. Mukherjee served as Acting Chief Commissioner and Vice Chair of the Ontario Human Rights Commission, and was also a member of the Ontario Civilian Coalition on Police Services.  Additionally, he was an instructor of South Asian studies at York University.

     The Toronto Police Services Board has many responsibilities, including determining the objectives and priorities of their municipalities police services in conjunction with the Chief of Police, establishing policies for the effective management of their police services, and establishing guidelines for the administration of the public complaints system.

     Despite his very busy schedule, Dr. Mukherjee spent time with me talking about the usefulness of the Firearms Act not only in combating domestic violence, but also other problems such as gang violence.

     According to Dr. Mukherjee, because police officers are the individuals that actually utilize the measures included in the Firearms Act, they are best equipped and most able to comment on its effectiveness.  The Canadian Association of Chiefs of Police, the Canadian Association of Police Boards, and the Canadian Police Association all publicly support the Firearms Act.  Dr. Mukherjee feels that this should carry more weight with policymakers and the public than it currently does.

     Dr. Mukherjee thinks that there is a direct parallel between gun control, crime, and quality of life.  With gun control measures in place, fewer domestic disputes turn deadly, and fewer mentally ill individuals gain access to firearms and use them during psychotic episodes.

     In addition, a reduction in gang violence results (which is a significant problem in Toronto), and even rare situations, like guns being pulled during bouts of road rage, decrease.  In other words, gun control correlates with safety, and when individuals and communities are safer, there is an increase in quality of life.

     In fact, although the Police Services Board supports the Firearms Act, they think that it should go even further to protect society.  Among the changes the Board believes need to be made to the Firearms Act are stricter enforcement measures at the borders, and clearer marking of stolen firearms.  By marking seized firearms that may lack serial numbers, the government and police would have a clearer idea of the total number of guns in Canada.

     Additionally, the current loophole that allows manufacturers to slightly alter a firearm and market it to the public as a new model not needing to be registered (because the list included in the legislation it out of date and contained no measure to regularly update it) needs to be corrected.

     Lastly, although there has been no consensus on this, as it is more of a ‘big city’ issue, the Board believes that handguns should be banned.  They are often used in instances of gang violence, and are not used for sporting purposes.  As a result, Dr. Mukherjee asserted that civilians should be banned from acquiring handgun, and that only police officers should have access to them.

     Coming from a human rights background, Dr. Mukherjee understands the importance of equality.  He recognizes that there are many gun owners in Canada that use their firearms for sporting purposes, and do so safely.

     However, gun control measures established by the government must take into account the objectives of public safety, the protection of marginalized communities (such as those who are domestically abused), and the reduction of crime, before catering to the opponents of gun control.

     By filling out paperwork and answering questions related to relationship status and mental well-being, taking safety training courses, and registering their firearms, law-abiding citizens are helping to keep themselves, and their country, safe.

     In the following, Dr. Mukherjee shares his thoughts on the Firearms Act.

      

461. GUNS ARE MORE DEADLY

     5:25 am Leave a Comment

     ”Post mortem examinations by the Edmonton Medical Examiner have determined that all four deceased died as a result of gunshot injuries. It has been determined that three of the deceased sustained multiple firearm related injuries while the fourth succumbed from what appears to be a single, fatal, self-inflicted injury. Investigators remain confident that the person responsible for all four deaths is among the four deceased. In consultation with the Medical Examiner this is now being classified as a triple murder-suicide.”  (RCMP “K” Division Media and Communications Services news release, July 29^th, 2009)

     On July 26^th, Slave Lake police received a call suggesting that a homicide had taken place on a property located in rural Alberta.  Upon responding to the call, the RCMP Emergency Response Team entered the property and found four deceased persons.

     The RCMP, through their investigation and with help from the Serious Crimes Unit, concluded that Ian Jeffrey Paget, 58, shot dead his estranged wife, his daughter, and his nine year old granddaughter.  After shooting his family members to death, he turned the gun on himself, committing suicide.

     This tragic story highlights one of the arguments I have made repeatedly during my time as a Peace Fellow with the Advocacy Project: guns are more lethal than any other type of weapon.

     Firearms are designed to kill, and are able to eliminate many people instantly.  According to Statistic Canada’s most recent data, between 1961 and 2003, firearms were the weapon of choice in the majority of homicide-suicides in Canada.

     A firearm in the home increases the risk of death at the hands of a violent perpetrator; Ian Jeffrey Paget was able to eliminate his entire family, including himself, in a matter of seconds.

      

     
     DV Logo

      

     Statistics Canada found that three-quarters of all homicide-suicides in Canada between 1961 and 2003 involved family members, and over half of these cases were committed by male spouses or ex-spouses; ninety-seven percent of the victims were female.

     According to a report released by the Alberta “K” RCMP Division in January (the same division to investigate the Paget homicide-suicide), fifty-three homicides were investigated by their Serious Crimes Unit in 2008.  Of these fifty-three homicides, fourteen (or twenty-six percent) were the result of domestic violence and six involved intimate partner relationships.  Additionally, fifteen of the fifty-three homicides were committed with a firearm, accounting for over a quarter of the total.

     In 2006 (a report was not submitted for 2007), twelve of thirty-six homicides (thirty-three percent) resulted from domestic violence, and firearms contributed to twelve (thirty-three percent) of the total number of homicides.  In 2005, thirty-one of the forty-nine homicides (sixty-three percent) investigated were attributed to domestic violence, and eleven of the forty-nine homicides were a result of firearms (twenty-two percent).

     These statistics illustrate the need for gun control not only to reduce and prevent domestic violence, but violence in general.  Many weapons are used to domestically abuse and assault people, but none are more lethal than firearms.

462. GUNS WERE A TERRIFYING PRESENCE IN OUR HOME

     5:24 am Leave a Comment

     Working as an Advocacy Project Peace Fellow with IANSA on the Disarming Domestic Violence campaign this summer has opened my eyes to the horrible realities of domestic violence.  However, no matter how many months I spend researching the topic, I know I will never truly understand what it is like to be a victim, or survivor, of domestic abuse.

     Understandably, it has been difficult for me to find abuse victims willing to share their stories; some are too ashamed while others do not want to relive the terrible memories they have worked so hard to forget.

     One individual wanting to tell her story, though, is Donna Carrick.  Donna posted a comment on one of my entries about her abusive father with the hopes that it would illustrate the increased fear and danger brought on by the presence of firearms.

     I got in touch with Donna and asked if she would be willing to share more of her story with me.  Kindly, in order to help promote awareness of this important issue, she agreed.

     The following narrative was written by Donna.  In her own words, she describes the abuse she witnessed and experienced firsthand as a child and into her first marriage.

      

     My name is Donna Carrick.  I’m forty-nine, married, and we have three children.  Our home is peaceful. My husband and I are both writers with day-jobs.  Most would describe me as out-going and confident. 

     On the subject of Domestic Violence, in particular with regards to how a violent situation can be made worse by the presence of firearms, I have first-hand knowledge. My father was a Military man.  He was also a collector of hunting rifles and subscriber to many gun-related magazines.  Canadian-born, he was an avid outdoorsman.

     In later years we were able to honour him as a parent.  He had many good qualities – loyalty, intelligence, and a sharp sense of humour.  He was aware of his personal failings, which made him forgivable to his family.

     However, when I was young he was abusive and violent.  He often threatened to shoot my mother and even myself and my sisters.  I don’t know how my ninety-five pound mother survived those years of physical abuse.  My older sister did not survive – I lost her to suicide when she was only nineteen. 

     My father was physically, verbally, psychologically and sexually abusive to my mother, my older sister, and myself.  My younger sister denies having experienced any abuse, but adds she has no memories prior to the age of twelve, which is hard for me to imagine.  I have very distinct and sharp memories. 

     My father would strangle my mother.  We girls would lie in our beds and hear her cries for help, too afraid to move.  She was an unfailing wife and mother, didn’t drink, didn’t swear, and was raised to be a lady.  He would beat her, would put inanimate objects inside her, would call her names, and worst of all, would threaten to take down one of his guns and kill us all.  I consider it to be a “long-shot” we were not all shot.

      

     
     IANSA

      

     I have a sense of humour, enjoy my life, writing, family and my work and friends.  All of that is forgotten, though, as I remember those years.  I am again a child, afraid and frustrated, unable to take any action, dreaming only of escape.

     No one can understand this despair unless they have lived through it.  When I tell these stories, the reactions I encounter are 1 of 2 kinds:

                   1-How can you say these things about your family? (As if I am disloyal.  But when my father was dying of cancer, it was I who visited him every day.  I fed him, cleaned him, took him to his medical appointments, and never uttered an unkind or unloving word to him.  “Keeping the silence” only perpetuates the abuse by enabling the abusers.) 

                   2-Why didn’t your mother leave him?  She left him when I was six, only to discover she had no family support. Her relatives felt she had “made her own bed”. My father’s employer, the Military, pressured her to return to him.  She left him once again when I was fifteen, after being beaten so badly that several ribs were broken and her face was not recognisable. She was unable to get out of bed for three weeks.  That time he actually did quit drinking and sought help for his problems.  After three months we went back, and he never hit my mother again.  Just when I was sure things were better, he was again sexually abusive.  I left home shortly after that.

     Guns were a terrifying presence in our house.  We all understood we would most likely die by shooting. I’ve heard others say that this scenario is like “living in the eye of a hurricane”, in that you never know when the next bout of violence will erupt.  On the contrary, we could usually predict the onset of violence.  There would be a false bravado, a tone of camaraderie, a heightened sense of humour in my father’s speech that was certain to end badly.

     During one of his moments of sobriety and remorse, my father allowed my mother to lock away vital parts of each firearm.  I know little about hunting rifles, but I believe it was the “clips” that he removed.  It was probably this insistence on my mother’s part that saved our lives.

     When I finally escaped from my childhood I became another statistic.  I married my first husband, a drug and alcohol abuser with an even worse temperament than my father had.  During that brief marriage he strangled me twice, beat me several times, threatened and belittled me constantly, refused to work and demanded my pay checks, was constantly paranoid and jealous and accused me of having affairs.

     One night, when we were entertaining people for dinner at our apartment, he took a large kitchen knife and threatened to kill one of our guests, then chased me down the street till I took refuge in a local restaurant.  The owner found a blanket to wrap around me and called the police.  I was seventeen at the time.

     One day I went to put the clean towels away in the linen closet and found an illegal handgun hidden there. I knew it was time to get out.  When I left, he would not let go.  I lost several good jobs because of his stalking.  He called incessantly and would show up.  One of my bosses had to call security.  It was the embarrassment that made me most depressed.  On at least two occasions, he got on the bus I was on, and the bus driver had to force him off.

     My oldest sister committed suicide when she was only nineteen.  When you spend your childhood having your life threatened by a parent with a gun, you doubt your right to live. Her death was a defining moment for me.  

     Obviously there will always be men like my father who are violent, with or without access to firearms.  However, when we take an already difficult domestic situation and add the element of firearms, the situation becomes worse.  A bullet is more “certain to kill” than most other weapons. 

     I am not a victim of domestic abuse, but a Survivor.  I understand this story could easily have ended quite differently for me. 

     I still experience the most horrible nightmares.  My husband and children tease me about them – they don’t understand why I sometimes wake up screaming for help.

463. TYING IT ALL TOGETHER

     5:23 am 229 Comments

     The International Action Network on Small Arms (IANSA) seeks to make people safer from gun violence by securing stronger regulation on guns in society and better controls on arms exports.

     Project Ploughshares works to identify, develop, and advance approaches that build peace and prevent war, and promote the peaceful resolution of political conflict.

     Both IANSA and Project Ploughshares are promoting the implementation of The United Nations Programme of Action to Prevent, Combat and Eradicate the Illicit Trade in Small Arms and Light Weapons in All Its Aspects (PoA).

     Unfortunately, the PoA mentions gender only once, to address the negative impact of small arms on women, children, and the elderly (UN 2001, I.6). This lack of attention is problematic because it means that the PoA fails to address the unique ways in which women are affected by firearms.

     Ken Epps, a Program Associate with Ploughshares and someone who has been involved in the Open Ended Working Group on the Arms Trade Treaty, has stated that “[in] the case of small arms and light weapons, the solutions to the problem will not work without gender analysis.”

     Overall, more men die more often as a result of firearms than women, but one type of gun violence that affects women on a larger scale then men is domestic violence, especially that involving the use of a firearm. Women are more likely than men to be killed by their spouses. In Canada, the rate of spousal homicide against females has been between 3 and 5 times higher than the rate for males during the 30-year period from 1977 to 2006.

     To highlight this issue, IANSA and some of its partners have come together to launch the Disarming Domestic Violence campaign. As I have described in past entries, the Disarming Domestic Violence campaign is the first international campaign to protect women from gun violence in the home. The main goal is to ensure that anyone with a history of domestic abuse is denied access to a firearm, or have their licenses revoked.

     This summer, Advocacy Project Peace Fellows are working with IANSA and their partner organizations around the world on the campaign. I am the only fellow working in a country that already has harmonized gun control and domestic violence laws in place; Canada’s Firearms Act has licensing and registration provisions that work together to prevent and lessen the occurrence of domestic violence.

     During my time as an AP fellow, I have been working to illustrate the benefits and effectiveness of this legislation as well as the need for tighter gun control in other countries. Canada’s Firearms Act is internationally recognized as good practice and has been commended for recognizing that guns and gun control are gendered issues.

     Through the continued work of IANSA, Project Ploughshares and the Advocacy Project, awareness of the negative impacts of the proliferation of small arms and specifically their use in domestic violence, will be increased. Advocacy for the development by governments of public policies and legislation to take guns out of the hands of potential and actual abusers will contribute to stopping violence against women.

464. FINAL REFLECTIONS

     5:22 am 237 Comments

     Tuesday morning I made the long drive back to Minneapolis from Waterloo. Not even ten minutes into my drive, the morning news update was aired.

      

     The first story reported that a woman from the Kitchener area named Nadia Gehlhad been shot in early February while at a bus stop close to her home. Waterloo police finally apprehended three suspects last week-her husband and two of his friends. The second story aired described a deadly shooting in Toronto.

      

     Over the summer, the pro-gun community in Canada incessantly argued that gun violence in their country is so low that legislation to decrease and prevent it is not warranted. This assertion, clearly, is easily challenged simply by listening to or watching the news.

      

     The correlation between gun control and domestic violence cannot be ignored, nor can the correlation between gun control and crime more generally.

      

     Domestic violence is a gendered issue, and unfortunately is always likely to be. As a result, the use of firearms in domestic violence is also a gendered issue; this is why IANSA launched the Disarming Domestic Violence campaign this summer.

      

     Canada is one of four countries with harmonized gun control and domestic violence laws. As such, Canada’s Firearms Act has been internationally recognized as good practice and is being used as a model for other countries looking to implement similar laws.

      

     It is not perfect. Nobody is pretending it is. There were cost overruns in its implementation, and some existing loopholes need to be closed. That being said, its imperfections are very small, and eliminating any portion of the Firearms Act would result in a decline of public safety and increased accessibility of firearms to perpetrators of domestic violence and other dangerous individuals.

      

      

     DV Logo

      

     While reflecting on the Firearms Act and my time in Canada, I feel the need to address the treatment I received from the pro-gun community this summer, specifically from members of CanadianGunNutz.com, described as Canada’s largest firearm trade and discussion forum.

      

     According to the pro-gun community, I was in Canada trying to take away their rights. The gunnutz community repeatedly accused me of attacking their personal freedoms, namely their freedom to carry firearms with them at all times, no matter where they are or what they are doing. If they want to carry their gun with them to run errands or even just to buy a pack of a smokes, this should be their prerogative, is what they argued.

      

      

     They told me I should be ashamed of myself based on my ‘sickening’ attempt of emotional appeal when linking gun control and domestic violence. Newsflash, Gunnutz: Domestic violence is emotional. It is horrifying and it is unfair. Pretending the issue does not exist does nothing to help make it go away.

      

      

     Not only did the pro-gun community constantly try attacking the legitimacy of my work and research, but they also attacked me personally; I have never experienced such degrading language or inappropriate behavior by people who claim to be adults.

     .

     What was most laughable about the treatment I received was the fact that the entire time the pro-gun community was trying to discredit my work, they were also trying to get me removed from the country. Paranoia and fear runs rampant among the gunnutz, and as such they try to ‘stomp out’ (their words, not mine) any opinion that differs from their own.

      

     Among other tactics, the pro-gun community tried to get me removed from Canada by searching for me as a registered lobbyist, looking into ways of getting my Visa revoked (I did not need one, which none of them were able to figure out), starting a letter writing campaign to the dean of my school based on my ‘lack of academic integrity’, and beginning the process of filing paperwork with the Ontario Human Rights Commission claiming that I was an American terrorist in their country attacking their rights.

      

     They even posted the link to my Facebook page on their forum and suggested that everyone try to befriend me. Making futile attempts to get me kicked out of Canada is one thing, but seeking me out on Facebook is disturbing and scary (especially when the screen name of the person posting the link is Nightmare). I was forced to take down the picture I had of me a friend laughing, because some individuals began making lewd and suggestive comments about it.

      

     I was warned before arriving that the treatment I would receive would be aggressive and mean, but I honestly did not expect it to be as bad as it was. Gunnutz.com and the pro-gun community are doing themselves no favors by attacking rather than debating those whose opinions vary from their own.

      

     While their constant attacks were frustrating this summer, their tactics of aggression and bullying did not work on me, and have not worked on Parliament. The Firearms Act was passed into law for good reason, and Parliament continues to recognize its benefits by upholding the legislation in its entirety.

465. AND IT CAME TO PASS…

     April 13, 2014 3:48 am Leave a Comment

     ** All photos in this blog from Ajaya Shah**

     You may, or may not know, I chose to take last semester off from grad school because I wanted to stay in Nepal to support and experience the Constitutional Assembly elections planned for November. Unfortunately, they were postpone, no one was sure if they would actually happen, and the time came for me to return home. Finally, a new date was set for April 10th, and as that date approached, it looked like the election might actually happen. I, along with the entire country and a large part of the international community held my breath that it would be a peaceful and fair election.
     
     A Guard at the Udayapur Polling Station

     

     As I sit in Berkeley juggling my school responsibilities and collecting reports about Nepal from the news and via email exchanges with Nepali friends, I have become increasingly inspired and excited. Aside from a few violent incidents, the elections were relatively peaceful, and are being commended by international observers, even being called “remarkable and well executed,” by the Carter Center.

     So much of my time in Nepal was characterized by an increasing appreciation for things I took for granted at home… the rule of law, good roads, infrastructure, voting… As I look at the pictures my friends have been sending me of election day I’m reminded of that, yet again.
     
     Getting Her Ballot

     

     Despite a slew of obstacles, including a very real threat of potential violence, people still lined up and waited for hours to vote. When they finally did get to vote, with the simplest of voting technology, they were given a ballot not full of names of candidates or parties, but of symbols to accommodate the large rates of illiteracy throughout the country and to make the process accessible to all.

     In fact, a full 60% of the country turned out to vote – despite the rigid rules about voting in your home village, regardless of where you currently live. Even more inspiring is that incredibly, 51% of those who turned out were women! Not only does this validate all the work, done by so many people to try to empower women and help them understand the importance of their role in the process, but it serves as a testament to a profound shift in women’s participation in the public sphere.

     The Lines To Vote

     

     The results are slowly coming in, with surprising results as the Maoists (the party who wages civil war for 10 years) seems to be wining by a significant majority. But so far, it seems those results are considered accurate, and are not being widely questioned. Let’s keep our fingers crossed that the grace which has encompassed this election so far is able to continue through the publication of the final results, and even further over the next few years as Nepal writes it’s new constitution.

     I’m still holding my breath, but for the moment, I want to share my excitement and say: “Congratulations, Nepal!”
     
     Voting

     

     
     Crowd At the Polling Station

     

466. Footer text

     February 13, 2014 5:08 am 255 Comments

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467. Families Affected by Agent Orange

     October 16, 2013 5:04 am Leave a Comment

     In the blog prior to this one, I explain how the use of Agent Orange in Vietnam has led to a great many challenges for the Vietnamese. In this blog, I will introduce you to one of the families affected by its use.

     Agent Orange is an herbicide that the U.S. sprayed over rural areas in Vietnam from 1961 to 1971 to defoliate trees and shrubs as well as kill food crops that were providing cover and food to opposition forces. Agent Orange contains a toxic contaminant, dioxin, that created many health problems at the time it was sprayed, and is still causing health problems in Vietnam today (aspen.institute.com).

     Unlike in the US where there are specialized Roundup cancer lawsuit centers which help roundup affected victims to get the justice they deserve. In Vietnam, the scale of effects that Agent Orange has had has made it impossible to get justice to something which happened long ago. Agent Orange has been linked to many different health problems, including birth defects in children, cancers, neuropathic disorders, acute and sub-acute neuropathy, AL Amyloidosus, Acneform diseases, chronic B-cell Leukemias, Diabetes, Hodgkins disease, Ischemic heart disease, multiple myeloma, non-hodkins lymphoma, Parkinson’s disease, prostate cancer, respiratory cancers, soft tissue sarcoma, spina bifida, Achondroplasia (dwarfism), cleft palate, clubfoot, esophageal and intestinal artesia, Hallerman-Streiff syndrome (little growth), Hirschprung’s disease, William’s syndrome, and a host of other diseases (veteranshealth.org).

     While in QuangBinh province in Dong Hoi, Vietnam, I met with several families who were affected by Agent Orange. Only in the last decade have people in the rural areas of Vietnam begun to hear about AO. Until then, they had no idea what was happening in some of the families there. Their stories were heart-rending yet hopeful, and I’d like you to meet some of the families that I met. I’ll begin with the family of Le Thanh Duc.

     

     Le Thanh, on right, with an AEPD Outreach Worker

     Le Thanh Duc joined the military in 1975, and a few years after the army promoted him to the Hieng Community in Da Nang. He told me that when he came there, the forest was already burned by what he later came to know as Agent Orange.  He stayed in or near Da Nang for over four years.

     After patrolling near the Da Nang Airport, he and some of his party were asked to remove a leaking canister from the grounds. He later realized that canister was Agent Orange that had been stored at the airport. In the days following he experienced a range of symptoms, including dizziness and headaches. These later faded but, he continued to work at Da Nang Airport, now known to be an AO hotspot (googlemaps.com), for over a year. He was then promoted to the Hieng Community in Da Nang, and was there for over three years. Le Thanh suffered from intermittent fevers and ailments upon his return from the war, and was formally diagnosed by a government doctor as “suffering from Agent Orange side effects.”

     Although there are no known disabilities resulting from birth defects in his or his wife’s family, his first three children were born with an unknown ailment, while the last three were born healthy. The first child was born in 1983, a girl, Le Thi Phuong. When she was born she appeared healthy. However, around age 10, she began to develop what appears to be a Neuropathic disorder that leads to paralysis.

     Originally able to speak, walk, and run, she began to experience difficulty with her speech and motor skills. Although her family brought her to the hospital to be examined, no formal diagnosis was ever made, the only diagnosis was “suffering from Agent Orange side effects.”

     Le Thi’s health has continued to degenerate until today, and now her paralysis has progressed to the point where she cannot sit up or talk. She is always prostrate, and depends on her parents to feed her and change her, as she has lost control of her bodily functions. Her muscles have degraded and she has very little muscle mass. Her back is sharply arched, something that has happened gradually, and her hands have become bent. Her family does not know if her mind has been affected, because she cannot speak or communicate, other than with the occasional smile, and sometimes she cries out. When she does this, her parents move her to a new position, on her stomach or her side, which they say is what she wants.

     

     Le Thi No and Le Thi Lanh

     The next two children to be born, both daughters, Le Thi No (b. 1986) and Le Thi Lanh (b. 1988), have suffered in the same way. They too were born without any apparent disorders, but as they grew, by age 10, the same strange symptoms appeared. Their parents say the disease only progresses, and there is no cure. The next three children to be born grew up without medical problems.

     All three affected children respond to the sounds of their parents voices with smiles and vocalizations. According to Le Than Duc, his youngest daughter Le Thi Lanh, the one most recently affected, can text very simple messages on a cell phone, even though she cannot speak. This may be evidence that the children still have some normal cognitive function that is masked by the paralysis of this undiagnosed diseaase.

     Le Thanh Duc is convinced that it was his exposure to AO in Da Nang that led to he and his children’s medical problems. However, he bears no ill will, preferring instead to leave the past alone and look forward to a better future, one that will allow him to better care for his family financially. It takes all of the parents’ time to care for their sick children, and AEPD has been speaking with them about a micro-loan that would help them start a small home-business producing fish sauce. This business could be run from the home, allowing the parents to continue to care for their children, while still earning some money to run the household.

     However, this will not be enough. Le Thanh and his wife do not possess the medical skills that are necessary to fully care for their children. The family lacks the transportation as well as the funds to ensure that the children are seen regularly by a medical doctor, and if complications arise, the family cannot afford the expert medical care that will be required. Le Thanh’s family is in need of expert advice, medical supplies, and access to medical care.

     Additionally, the Duc family is not connected with the parents of other children in their community that are suffering as their own do, and have little social support,. According to the outreach worker I was led by, many families with similarly ill children exist in this town and others; enough to start a community support group. The problem is, social stigma arising from having a family member with disabilities is a big problem in Vietnam, especially in the rural communities. It is especially problematic with disabilities like the ones that Le Thanh’s children have, as this disease can appear to the untrained eye to result from an illness that could be contagious.

     As a result, if neighbors and others in the community find out that the Duc family’s children are ill with this wasting disease , they would keep them away from the home and stay away themselves. This leads to a kind of “polite ostracization” within the community. Families like Le Thanh’s tend to keep their children’s conditions as quiet as possible, to ensure that they and their healthy children can remain integrated within their communities.

     In Vietnam today, there are many families like Le Thanh’s. Much more research is required regarding AO and its effects on the ground in Vietnam. The families that suffer from undiagnosed diseases, such as Le Thanh’s, need access to medical care and general support.

     The governments of the United States and Vietnam have each taken many steps toward improving the lives of those who have suffered due to the use of AO in Vietnam, but there are still many families that need help. AEPD is currently researching a new program that is geared specifically toward aiding victims of AO, a necessary and welcome addition to the endeavor to improve the lives of people with disabilities in Vietnam.

468. A lot has Happened Since My Last Blog Pt. 1

     September 30, 2013 5:52 am Leave a Comment

     It’s been quite a while since I last wrote a blog post on behalf of my Advocacy Project Fellowship, and this past month and a half – two months – has been incredibly eventful/fulfilling/stressful/worth it. Because so many things have happened I’m going to split this blog into a few posts, but I guess I should start with the reasoning behind the initial halt in writing blogs…

     Two days after my last blog post on July 23rd, Shahed and I spent the morning in the Bagmusa Cobbler Community School, just as we had spent many mornings. After finishing our work Shahed approached Dipu (a Subornogram Volunteer) and I, asking if we would like to visit the newest Subornogram School on Ramprasader Chor Island, across the Meghna River. Excited for the opportunity to profile, work, meet, take pictures, and socialize with the children and teachers at a school I hadn’t been to yet, I answered with an enthusiastic – Ugh … YES!

     Shahed, Dipu, and I left Bagmusa for the Baidyer Bazaar where we would catch a private boat to cross the Meghna River on our way to visit the school. Fifteen to twenty minutes into our ride across the Meghna I noticed a small speedboat carrying 6-7 guys rapidly approaching us, yelling out as they got closer. Once their boat was flanking ours they stayed pace and told the captain of our boat to run the nose ashore of an island we were approaching. After running our boat ashore, some villagers on this island came over to see what the commotion was about; now in hindsight I believe that the men on the speedboat realized at the time that we 1) had an escape route if things were to get serious, and 2) they didn’t want any villagers to see or know what was about to happen.

     The men on the speedboat told our captain to push the boat back out into the river and follow them. After we were a decent way out into the river a few men began to board our boat, yelling at Shahed, Dipu and myself in Bengali. I was sitting on the roof of the boat with Dipu at the time, and one of the guys jumped up onto the roof between Dipu and I, continuing to yell. At the time I believed that the men were fishermen and that we had possibly snagged one of their nets with the propeller, so I wasn’t fully aware of the seriousness of the situation. After a bit of grabbing, pushing and shoving the atmosphere calmed down as one of the older guys boarded our boat and sat down next to Shahed and began conversing in a normal tone. To know more about the boat navigate here.

     It was at this time that the second boat flanked our other side and Shahed was pushed and pulled into the second boat. Realizing that something wasn’t quite right, my initial reaction was to board the boat with Shahed to find out what was going on. My foot was kicked off the side of their boat and it sped off. Frustrated that the situation had escalated to this point, and not really having a grasp as to what was going on, I immediately began asking the guys that remained on our boat where they were taking Shahed.

     They dismissed my questions, grabbed Shahed’s camera and cell phone that were left in our boat, hopped back onto the second speedboat, and took off after the other. I told the captain of the boat that Dipu and I remained on to follow them, but he refused, heading back for the Bazaar we’d initially departed from. On the ride back my mind was racing around what had just happened, trying to piece together possible scenarios when it hit me … these guys had to be the illegal sand dredgers that I’d been warned about …

469. Agent Orange and Post-Conflict Vietnam

     September 8, 2013 12:58 am 87 Comments

     The legacy of war, with its attendant unexploded ordnance and the use of chemical weapons has deeply impacted the country of Vietnam and most importantly, her people.

     

     The data on the percentage of people with disabilities are varied in Vietnam due to different survey and assessment methods. According to the General Population Survey in 2009, Vietnam has 6.7 million disabled people, equivalent to 7.8% of the general population. However, in the same year, the Ministry of Labour, Invalids and Social Affairs identified the percentage of PWDs as only 6% of the total population. Meanwhile, WHO stated the proportion of PWDs in Viet Nam is 15.3%, counting the classification of functioning disability. In addition, the disability rate of women is higher than men (16.58% compares with 13.69%). In almost all reports, most PWDs live in rural areas and below the poverty rate; environmental, economic and social barriers also prevent them from mainstreaming and participating in society.

     In Dong Hoi (QuangBinh Province), where AEPD is located, as reported by the QuangBinh Department of Labor, Invalids, and Social Affairs (DOLISA) in 2008, QuangBinh has 45,000 PWDs, in which around 10,000 are landmine survivors, 10,000 are Agent Orange victims and 25,000 are of different types of disabilities. This is the equivalent of 5.2% of population in the province, but 90% of PWDs live in in rural areas, where socio-economic opportunities and infrastructure conditions are very limited. In addition, the majority of PWDs’ education level is very low, many are illiterate and only finished primary school. In terms of living conditions, PWDs in QuangBinh are the poorest people in the region, only approximately 25% can generate income, and usually only through their own self-employment.

     The most common causes of disability in Vietnam are war consequences, natural disasters, traffic accidents, injuries at work, and illnesses like cancer, heart attack or diabetes. As a result, the spiritual and physical lives of PWDs are very difficult. 80% of PWDs in urban area and 70% in rural area depend on their families, relatives and social sponsoring. The rate of poverty of PWDs is double the general poverty rate of Vietnamese society. About 80% of PWDs are jobless, only about 20% of them have some form of employment (mostly self-employment).

     Because of the history and legacy of wars being fought on Vietnamese soil, it remains heavily contaminated by Explosive Remnants of War (ERW). Specifically, unexploded ordnance (UXO) from a conflict that ended more than 35 years ago, mostly dating back to the war with the United States (US) in the 1960s and first half of the 1970s. Millions of tons of ordnance were dropped on Vietnam, with up to one third estimated to be un-detonated. This still contaminates the ground, affecting as much as 20 per cent of the country.

     Additionally, during the American/Vietnam war more than 18 million gallons of dioxin-laden Agent Orange (AO) and other herbicides were sprayed over ten per cent of South Vietnam. Agent Orange dioxin used by the US army from 1962-1971 is still affecting the second and the third generation of Vietnamese families – either because they are living in affected areas or because their parents were soldiers.

     Dioxin is a persistent organic pollutant that contaminated Agent Orange and some of the other color-coded herbicides that were used during the Vietnam war. TCDD, the most common Dioxin contaminant in these herbicides, is the most toxic of about 419 types of similar toxic compounds.
     
     According to the cleft lip in new york city ny Specialists, Agent Orange has been linked to many different health problems, including birth defects in children, cancers, neuropathic disorders, acute and sub-acute neuropathy, AL Amyloidosus, Acneform, Chronic B-cell Leukemias, Diabetes, Hodgekins disease, Ischemic Heart Disease, Multiple Myeloma, Non-Hodkins Lymphoma, Parkinson’s Disease, Prostate Cancer, respiratory cancers, Soft-Tissue Sarcoma, Spina Bifida, Achondroplasia (dwarfism), Cleft Palate, Clubfoot, Esophageal and Intestinal Artesia, Hallerman-Streiff Syndrome (little growth), Hirschprung’s Disease, William’s syndrome, and a host of other diseases (veteranshealth.org).

     Many soldiers were from Dong Hoi, and returned to the city upon the cessation of the war. While they were in the army, they traveled extensively, living off the land and drinking local water. If they were traveling in a contaminated area, that meant that their food and water were likely contaminated as well, making them direct victims of the poison. This exposure led to birth defects in their children.
     
     Although it was once thought that Dioxins could only cause birth defects if the mother was exposed, it is now becoming clear that these birth defects can occur when either the father or the mother are exposed to Agent Orange. Male Vietnamese soldiers returning to their families after the war often begat children with birth defects (Lawson, et.al. 2004).

     AEPD has developed and applied a survivor-centric approach to people with disabilities that focus on provision of peer support, economic opportunity and social empowerment; tailored to the specific needs of each survivor. Using the peer-support model, AEPD Outreach Workers – themselves survivors of amputation and other causes of physical disability – make frequent visits to individual survivors to identify recovery objectives, provide emotional support and advice and monitor the individual’s progress.

     Since 2003, AEPD has covered 68 communities in 5/7 districts in Quang Binh province; reaching out to approximately 2,650 landmine survivors and more than 2,000 persons with disabilities; assisting more than 1,000 households with economic opportunity activities; AEPD established 340 self-help groups with more than 800 members; upgraded 15 local health clinics with health equipment and tools; and supported local health clinics to conduct more than 22 training courses on rehabilitation techniques.
     
     Until now, AEPD has served around 40 confirmed (by the government) Agent Orange (AO) victims. However, this number is unreliable, as extensive surveying has never been conducted, and the identification of AO victims is difficult. Victims cannot be identified definitively; at most, victims can be surmised on the basis of where they grew up and/or whether or not their parents either lived or fought in areas that were heavily sprayed, as well as by the type of their disability. The difficulty of conclusively identifying an AO victim is understood internationally-in the United States, for example, a Vietnam War Veteran need only be able to demonstrate that he was in Vietnam during the time period that AO was used to obtain financial and medical support.

     AEPD is currently researching developing a comprehensive and integrated model for meeting the special needs of PWDs who are Agent Orange victims, to help them improve their health status and living standards as well as obtain education and develop community-based peer support networks. In addition, the possibility of educating the parents of AO victims regarding the health care as well as the everyday care of special needs PWDs is being examined. Education of parents and capable victims about both the rights of persons with disabilities and local resources for AO victims is another factor.
     
     My next blog will highlight the personal stories of Agent Orange survivors in Dong Hoi, Vietnam and its surrounding districts. These men and women struggle every day to achieve what many of us take for granted as simple tasks. Their stories are sobering and inspirational, and I look forward to sharing them with you.

470. Animal Rights

     August 20, 2013 10:22 pm 1 Comment

     Accidental killing of stray animals is not right; the fact that it is an accident does not in any way justify or validate the death of that innocent animal. I was hurt and shocked when I saw how cruelly animals were being treated here. Every day on my walk through the village, I see countless neglected, helpless animals. Here it is commonplace to see emaciated cats and dogs, and no one even bats an eyelash over it. Not only are these stray animals incredibly deprived, but also they are constantly mistreated and abused. These are killed senselessly- a prime example being that every two years, the mayor of the village takes his gun, goes out, and shoots as many dogs and cats as he can. The reason he gives for this slaughter: they make too much noise. Killing is always a problem, never a solution.

     

     I wish I could say this issue is only prevalent in Morocco, but sadly this is not the case animal cruelty and neglect is rampant worldwide, especially in third world countries. Some people even believe because humans are higher on the food chain and of superior intellect, animals have no innate rights and human needs take precedence, so the cost of an animal life is beyond negligible. I am aware that animal rights is a sensitive topic in some countries, and many people will argue that people come first therefore animals rights are not an important issue. However, because one believes that human rights take precedence that does not mean that one must go to the extreme of neglecting and abusing animals. I operate under the belief that people should respect all of God’s creations, including animals and nature. As humans, we tend to get caught up in a self-centered state of mind when it comes to sharing this world that we were all given. Everything deserves respect and proper care. The Prophet Muhammad said:

     “A prostitute once saw a dog on a very hot day going round and round a well, lolling its tongue because of its thirst. She drew some water for it using her shoe, and for this action all her sins were forgiven her.”

     “A woman was once punished after death because of a cat which she had kept confined until it died, and because of this she entered the Fire. She had neither given it food or drink while confining it, nor had she let it free to eat the creatures of the earth.”

     

     Lack of close, personal interactions with animals is the main reason why people do not care about animals in underdeveloped communities. Members of developed communities create and maintain close relationships with animals, because they grow up playing with their pets, walking them, and caring for them. In the third world, this is not the case; they do not care for animals or empathize with them. While traveling to several third world countries, I witnessed young people beating dogs and cats, and sometimes purposefully running them over with their cars.

     

     All animals should be treated with respect and kindness. I believe a good solution to this problem is for individuals and governments to educate the public about the proper care for animals, and establish institutions to support animal welfare. Here are some ideas that would help provide a good life for animals (pet animals in particular):

     1. Why don’t we build a petting zoo with dogs and cats? This would help the country economically and in terms of tourism. This zoo would be a landmark and attract much attention from locals as well as tourists. Major animal rights organizations could participate in taking care of the animals by providing them with suitable feed and water, as well as healthy psychological and physical living conditions. Animal rights activisists could help with making sure the dogs are treated for sicknesses and disease like dog diarrhea , as well as helping to make sure they are appropriately hygienic for the zoo. A great example of a park like this is Japan Bear Parks. These parks take care of their animals in the same way I described, as well as serve as a source of entertainment to the public. Every day, more and more puppies and kittens are born from mothers who are already starvingand cannot properly feed them or take care of them, and these puppies will go on to live the same life as their parents. However, if we established free veterinary care and clinics, then we could really make a huge change.

     2. In some countries, people are simply not aware of animal rights. It would be a great idea if the world established a unifying organization just for pets’ rights and put their minds together coming up with ideas on how to effectively protect their rights.

     3. In other countries, the animal rights situation is even worse, because people outright do not care about animals, and actively seek to hurt them. However, in Europe and the U.S.A, people generally care about animals very deeply. This creates the perfect platform for establishing an international market organization in which we buy animals from careless countries, and sell them to people/countries that can properly care for their well being, and treat them to the way of life they deserve. I believe this is a great idea, because whether or not owning pets is looked down upon differs from one culture to another, so this international market would reach other a wide variety of cultures, increasing the chance that the dog or cat will find its forever home.

     To wrap up, I am a firm believer that every part of nature deserves relevantly appropriate rights. I wish to address this topic again in the future; as I feel it deserves more attention, because this is not an issue only in Morocco. In North America, millions of animals are cruelly packed into unsanitary, inhumane quarters daily and killed in factories.

      

471. A Successful End to the Handicap-Accessible Toilet Facility Saga

     August 14, 2013 4:15 am 4 Comments

     

     Wednesday marked the end of a long process and a small victory for people with disabilities in Gulu, Uganda. Aworowinny Construction Company finally opened the handicap-accessible bus park toilet facility upon completion of its renovation. I highlighted many of the challenges in an earlier blog, which outlined last summers failure of Handicap International to oversee the work that was being done. Fortunately, thorough hard work on the Advocacy Projects part to find generous donors to this worthwhile cause, the funds were raised to make another attempt at fixing this site.

     

     Differences this summer were the completely new concrete walkway over the drainage rather than the slabs of last summer that broke before the toilet was even to be opened. A toilet with running water was constructed, and an emergency plumber was employed to necessitate the bathroom with water. Look At This here things to studied before appointing or having quote with plumber. It was identical to any toilet being used in the developed world, with railings, which will allow for seamless transition from wheelchair to toilet seat.

     

     In addition to the features, the Advocacy Project, GDPU and the local contractor who is paid to clean the site have entered into an agreement to maintain access and cleanliness thus ensuring that the site is safe and accessible for people with disabilities to use.

     

     The project this time around did not come without hardship. The removable cement covers that were to be placed over the holes in the walkway so that rainwater still reaches the drainage were vandalized and destroyed shortly after completion. It isn’t clear if this was done as an act against people with disabilities. The construction company was able to quickly fashion new covers for the walkway.

     

     The ribbon cutting ceremony was a great event that was attended by many members of the GDPU and those who are disabled from the community. There was also a local journalist covering the event and the under secretary of health on disability was on hand to cut the ribbon and speak to the journalist regarding the event. You can follow cheapmotorhomes for home improvement tips.

     

     You truly could sense a feeling of relief amongst the GDPU members, as their level of frustrating over the stagnation of the project was the same if not greater than that of the Advocacy Project after coming to close last summer before the project literally and figuratively fell apart. This projects completion truly was a culmination of successive hard work by Peace Fellows Rebecca Scherpelz (2011), Dane Macri (2012), and myself (2013). Thanks also goes out in large part to the generous donors who made this project possible for the large population of disabled people here in Gulu.

     

     I can’t speak enough about the power of the ability of people from different backgrounds, and those thousands and thousands of miles away from one another, coming together to collaborate on such a wonderful and worthwhile cause. This toilet represents more than just a place for people with disabilities to use the bathroom in a dignified manner; it’s a flag in the ground and a feather in the cap of those in Uganda who are so often looked down upon in their society. We’ve seen and read heartbreaking stories out of this community on GDPU blogs over the years and it’s great that once in a while we can see a positive one such as this.

472. Catch 22 of Program Dependent Funding: A Check in with Sabita and Sima

     August 7, 2013 3:46 am 1 Comment

     In 2009 BASE performed a raid and rescue and rescued many child laborers under one its programs at the time. Among those rescued children were then 8-year-old Sabita and 8-year-old Sima. Both Sabita and Sima were profiled by a few of the former Peace Fellows (Kan Yan in 2009 and Adrienne Henck in 2010) and Sabita features in the documentary made by Kan Yan, The Price of Childhood. Typically with the children rescued by BASE would spend about a month at the BASE children’s rehabilitation center before being returned to their parents. Unfortunately for both Sabita and Seema their families were unable, or unwilling to take them back after BASE rescued them. In light of their family situation BASE pledged to send the girls to boarding school so they could continue their educations and have a safe place to live.

      

     Sabita hiding behind Sima as I showed her a clip from The Price of Childhood: a documentary featuring Sabita

     Sujita Basnet and I went to visit Sabita and Sima to check in on them at the Hindu Vidyapeeth School where they are both enrolled, and deliver a donation made by a former Peace Fellow to cover their school fees. We arrived during the school’s lunch break so we could talk to the girls without disturbing their classes. Neither of us was prepared for the angry and hostile greeting we received from Sabita. Sabita, who mistakenly thought we were BASE employees, quickly became angry and started yelling at us, asking where the money for her school expenses was and why she had not been taken to see her family in so long. Unknown to either Sujita or myself before we arrived at the school BASE, which had pledged not only to pay for both the girls school fees (which covers not only tuition but clothes, books, food and board as well) but also to take the girls home to visit their families during school breaks, had not fulfilled either of these promises for the past year and a half.

     

     Sabita, left and Sima, right, discussing their life at school and the Children’s Peace Home in Ghorahi, western Nepal

     Sabita began crying as she told us how much she misses her family and how upset she is with BASE for not coming to take her home as promised. After recovering from the initial shock of these revelations we clarified that we were not BASE employees but there on behalf of former Peace Fellows who wanted to help them with their school fees. Once Sabita calmed down a bit we were able to talk with her and Sima about their experiences at the Hindu Vidyapeeth School and how things had been going for them. They both said they were enjoying their time at school and staying at the Children’s Peace Home (the orphanage founded and run by the school’s Principal, Bhola Nath Yogi) but wish that BASE would better support them.

     

     Hindu Vidyapeeth School in Ghorahi, Dang

     I later inquired about Sabita and Sima back at the BASE office and was told that once the raid and rescue program came to a close they no longer had funding for the girls’ school fees or transportation to visit their families. BASE employee Pinky Dangi, who was heavily involved in the original raid and rescue of Sabita and Sima, took it upon herself to fund the girls’ education once the funding ran out. She personally paid their school fees and bought them new clothes. This past year she was only able to raise half the necessary amount however and now that she is away pursuing her Masters degree in Thailand she is concerned that she won’t be able to find a way to pay for the girls.

     

     Bhola Nath Yogi looking through the records to find out the exact amount of the girls’ outstanding balance

     Bhola Nath Yogi, the founding Principal of the school and orphanage, is happy to support the girls in the mean time, but there’s only so much he can do. He personally sponsors the 35 children living at the orphanage (which he built on his family’s land in 2005) and an additional 133 children who attend the school. He also takes the children who live in the orphanage home to visit their families during school breaks, but due to liability issues he cannot take Sabita or Sima home as BASE still claims responsibility for the girls.

     

     Sima (far left in gray) and Sabita (far right in pink) having breakfast at the Children’s Peace Home before heading to school

     Fortunately the donation provided this time was enough to cover the amount owed on the girls’ school fees, but their future funding remains uncertain. When NGOs are dependent on funding for specific programs it does allow them to potentially do some amazing work, such as BASE did in 2009 with their raid and rescues, but makes long term planning difficult. BASE promised to take care of these girls but given the specific project driven nature of their funding it will be difficult for them to continue funding the girls’ education. Anyone interested in donating to the girls’ education can do so here and can find more information on the school and orphanage here.

473. Meet Shiva, JMC Social Media Coordinator

     August 6, 2013 11:46 pm 1 Comment

     I remember last year speaking to a Dalit rights group in the Bara district where we were told that caste-based discrimination begins with food. They were working on a program that brought school children from different castes into one circle to eat together. I was reminded of this story when Shiva, JMC’s social media coordinator, was relating a story of when he was around 7-8 years old in school. His friends had food to share, but the teacher explained to Shiva that he couldn’t even eat with his friends, much less share food, because of the difference in caste. It stands out to me that whether or not caste-based discrimination begins with food, it starts very early. Shiva is well versed in social media like instagram, and has had multiple jobs that circle around this topic over the years. He has a great social media follower amount on Instagram, which she disclosed in the interview about how she get instagram followers. Here we are now, hoping to learn from her experience and expertise! The best way to work out how many likes or followers you should buy from Upleap to consider your target limit and buy incremental amounts to work your way towards that over a period of time. Here you will get a path social alternatives for the traffic boosting tools. There is no set limit on the amount of followers or likes you have – so why not give it a go and see if we can’t make you Instagram famous? There are many reasons to splurge out and simply buy your followers.

     Well you can visit Bumped.in for appointing the best firm which can grow your social media network more faster. The benefits of being Insta-famous are endless. From free hotel breaks to free event tickets provided you encourage your followers to attend too – all this and more could be yours and all it takes are a few thousand followers!. When you set up your online empire you do so with the aim of creating publicity for yourself, building your brand and making the most that you can out of your web pages – and here at Famoid we do the same for your Instagram account!. If you have been trying to build up your reputation the slow way then we know how hard that can be. So far Famoid has provided more than 37 million followers and over 30 million likes – but obviously they are not all for the same client! The recommended amount is unclear and varies from person to person. For example, if you already have three thousand followers then buy real Instagram followers another thousand is not unreasonable. However, if you jump from ten followers to a thousand followers this might seem suspicious.
     

      

     Shiva remembers a gentleman that did some work for his parents who was served food in a manner that would allow his family and this man to avoid contact with each other due to the untouchability social norms. The gentleman who was doing the work for Shiva’s parents was the father of Rem, JMC’s president and Shiva’s current employer.

     As a teenager Shiva listened to Radio Katwal, one of JMC’s radio programs, and in high school he started a listener’s club for the radio program. He remembers the discrimination that he experienced as an upper caste Nepali when he engaged with Nepalis of lower castes; although he is now told that the work he does is good. Later in life, Shiva began a career as a journalist, and today works for Jagaran Media Center, the organization that inspired him to work against caste-based discrimination that he witnessed firsthand.

     Shiva told me that JMC “created a revolution in Nepali media” with regards to coverage of caste-based discrimination and highlighting the situation of Nepali Dalits, and said that newspapers devoting editorials to Dalit issues is largely in part to JMC’s advocacy. 12 mainstream media outlets covered the Rautahat incident earlier this summer, and 45 stories related to the issue were run.

     In no small part, JMC has had a significant effect on the way that the media responds to Dalit issues. Through their radio programs and listener-run clubs like the one Shiva started they have proven that even though caste-based discrimination is learned early in life, young Nepalis do not necessarily accept it as a social norm.