Latest Posts

1. Cha Cha Cha Changes

   May 31, 2017 11:32 am 84 Comments

   Nothing prepares you for the moment you step off a plane and into a country you aren’t yet familiar with. The panic, the excitement, the *I will NOT let this taxi driver rip me off* is the same in every new country I visit. Yet, every time I am taking those overly confident steps toward my cab, these feelings catch me off guard.

   Determined, I shake those feelings off and get in the cab (refusing to pay anything more than 20 JD). I relax a bit and move on to worrying about Ramadan in this desert heat when I hear, “Are you Muslim?” and I reply affirmatively and my cab driver wishes me a blessed Ramadan. First real Arabic interaction: check. I mentally note to put this in my blog (hi guys!). “Are you married?” Here we go.

   This is where I will be updating you all about the funny (above), sad, enraging, and joyous experiences I have in Amman, Jordan. Arriving here, I felt all those new feelings associated with change but I also felt prepared to begin this Peace Fellowship. Last week, I spent 9-5 everyday with the other amazing fellows, being trained by experts in videography, M&E, photography, blogging, fundraising, podcasting, etc. Thanks to video training, you shouldn’t be surprised when you see my name in all the Oscar buzz for 2018.

   I am now confident that I have the tools to grapple with all the changes around me. I am ready to lift up the voices of the women I’ll be working with, whether that be with videos or blogs. But will the women want their stories heard? Will they accept my help? I worry about these things, but I am eager to get started with my work at CRP. I meet with my supervisor, Tim, on Sunday and will have a clearer vision of where these 10 weeks will lead me. Until then, I’m updating all of you on the beginning of this amazing journey and making further preparations where I can.

   As promised, I have great news for those who want to help. June 20th is International Refugee Day. The Advocacy Project is going to pair with Global Giving to raise funds for CRP’s Hope Workshop, with each donation being matched 100%!!!! I will have a lot more info on this coming soon, but put it on your calendars now so you don’t forget.

   With that, I leave you until Friday. Make sure to keep a look out here every Wednesday and Friday to stay up to date with my fellowship!

2. The Power of Females in Maintada

   August 24, 2016 1:34 pm Leave a Comment

   

   Baishara (2nd from the right) and the rest of RRF

    

   “I am so old with great grandchildren.” So, how old are you? “Oh, I am 51” said Baishara. This beautiful great grandma is a uterine prolapse survivor and also the chairperson of the Reproductive Rights Forum (RRF).

   Baishara was married at the young age of 13 and started being sexually active and bore children before her body fully matured. One of the most common causes of uterine prolapse among women like Baishara is teen pregnancy. This debilitating condition causes extreme physical discomfort and emotional suffering.

   When Baishara was growing up, she heard about the condition but because of the social stigma attached to it, women never openly spoke about it. When she got married, lack of rest after childbirth, coupled with hard labor during pregnancy and inadequate child spacing had caused Baishara to have stage 2 of uterine prolapse. She sought the help of natural remedies and exercise to relieve some of her pain. When she joined RRF, she was determined to help other women like her and since then she has taught 45 women about natural remedies and pelvic exercise to prevent UP. “Women in the community don’t like to draw attention to them, but since I was diagnosed with the condition, I can identity women who are suffering just by looking at them,” explained Baishara.

   

   Baishara- sitting in the middle-discussing about Uterine Prolapse

    

   RRF is a group formed by nine influential women representing the 9 wards of their district. This group raises awareness on the harmful effects of child marriage and uterine prolapse. They also help victims of uterine prolapse by assisting them seek medical help.

   The group performs street plays to raise awareness in the community about the harmful effects of child marriage and the importance of women’s work in the household. It is a very inexpensive form of entertainment with the most effective and powerful message. Street performances have a real impact in bringing social issues like child marriage and UP to the forefront of community discussions and they can witness the impact within their community. “We are also encouraging men to share the household chores with their wife” expressed Baishara.

   Many changes have occurred since the formation of this group. Women are not afraid to speak openly about the subject of uterine prolapse or ignore that child marriage is not an issue. They are aware of their rights and are encouraging their husbands to change their views as well.

3. Do you dare to touch?

   August 15, 2016 1:19 pm Leave a Comment

   

   Using SMART to check if the campaign design fits the goal

   We climbed back up to Lakuri, Nepal to once again meet with the adolescence group who attended the life skills training and this time I am meeting them to train them on campaign strategy. The objective of the training was to encourage this group of boys and girls to be agents of change in their community. The idea was to encourage students to understand the issues of gender discrimination and then enable them to work as the main catalysts to bringing change in their society. The campaign is not rigidly structured and each student contributes to this according to his/her own capacity. The overall goal of the campaign is to empower women and girls and present the idea that women are not dirty or unclean during menstruation and isolating them is a violation of their basic human rights and thus there is a need to end all violence against women.  During the training, campaign ideas were not imposed on the students, rather they were encouraged to design a campaign they can execute based on their skills and capacity. The value behind this approach is that people will want to change themselves and their own environment.

   

   Monitoring students work during campaign workshop

   The students were so quick to grasp the concept and so excited to be doing something creative and new. Some of the activities that the students planned to conduct were calling the local radio station and singing a song about the issue of menstruation, other students will perform drama in their school, and some will create stories to educate their peers. Hopefully, some of these activities will create some sort of change in attitudes and behavior in the society. People will want to change when they see issues as their own problem and that change is possible if it begins from within.

    

    

4. “I will tell my parents I don’t want to get married early”

   August 10, 2016 12:18 pm Leave a Comment

    

   

   School in Gumi

    

   As soon the team got out of the car in Gumi to visit yet another school where girls have benefitted from the Girls Empowerment Program, we were greeted with beautiful flower garlands and tons of love! Compared to the girls in Maintada, the girls here were super shy, except for one girl named Chandra. This little bold girl wants to get a higher education and become a social worker, but she is afraid that her parents will want her to get married. She is confident in her future and exclaimed “I will convince my parents that helping me get into college will benefit them. They worked hard their whole life and if I can become a social worker, I can earn money and take care of them and my siblings.” In Nepal’s society, pervasive gender discrimination contributes to the low social and economic status of women and girls. Often, girls are considered financial burdens on their families and upon reaching puberty, their mobility is often restricted, further diminishing their learning, and social opportunities.

   

   Beautiful girls from Girls Empowerment Program (GEP)

    

   The school teacher here expressed that child marriage is correlated to families’ fear of elopement. “My best friend ran away and got married last month. I am so close to her and she did not even tell me that she was running away. Perhaps, she knew that I would convince her that she is making a haste decision and that she will regret it,” said Amrita. One of the reasons why girls run away in Nepal is because they are not generally permitted to express themselves freely, and when they do, they are often not taken seriously by their parents. When girls start to develop the ability to form independent opinions, parents usually maintain control and authority over their daughters and make key life decisions on their behalf.

   Programs like GEP and life skills education enabled these groups of girls to realize their potential as agents of change. Through monitoring various programs, I learned the importance of empowering girls and giving them skills and knowledge for future livelihoods. Girls who receive life skills training and are beneficiary from the GEP program were ones less likely to get married. Of course, delay in child marriage was just one of the benefits. These girls were also more likely to stay in school, have a better understanding of gender equality and possess improved confidence and well-being.

   

   Chandra (far left) showing off the wall painting her and peers drew in her school

5. “Eyes Full of Dreams and Ambition”

   August 8, 2016 11:49 am Leave a Comment

   The Girls Empowerment Program or (GEP) was started in Maintada, with a goal of aiding girls to pass the Secondary School Certificate (SCC) exam, a test that allows students to advance into the 11^th grade. Most parents in these villages assumed their daughters would never achieve such a feat, since girls education is not seen as a priority. Despite this ingrained assumption, over the last five years, the team of WRRP has been continually supporting and motivating the girls and their parents. For instance, GEP provides stationery items, uniforms, entrance fees for school, and extra tuition for girls, so that they can excel in school. They have also motivated and encouraged the parents to provide sufficient time and support for their daughters at home.

   WRRP wanted to show them that with proper guidance and support these girls can equally excel in their education just as boys do. The underlying challenge for them was to change the mindset of the community. Although the total number of girls enrolled in education is increasing, the completion rate remains poor. Early marriage, poverty, and parents’ lack of awareness of the importance of girls’ education are just some of the barriers girls’ face.

   

   With girls from GEP and adolescence group

    

   Families too often feel that they cannot afford those simple items to let their daughters continue schooling, when all hands are needed to feed the family. Situations such as these aren’t uncommon in Nepal. In many places, family and cultural issues often prevent girls from continuing their education. Formal education is often seen as a boy’s role, while girls are expected to stay home in order to take care of household chores. Girls are often sent to government schools, while boys are sent to private schools to receive a better education. In the view of the families, a girls value truly develops when they fulfill their role as future wives and mothers, rather than as future citizens and producers.

   Many of the girls echoed how this program has helped change their lives. Due to their participation in the program, they are more confident and are also more aware of the social issues that affect their lives personally. As a result, they are inspired to continue on with their education. By providing girls with crucial life skills, targeting them while they are under the age of sixteen and directly supporting their education, WRRP is making a real difference in the trajectory of these girls lives in Nepal. Increased confidence that stems from these empowerment programs helps the girls negotiate key life decisions and transfer the knowledge about the negative consequences of early marriage to both their peers and parents.[content-builder]{“id”:1,”version”:”1.0.4″,”nextId”:”1″,”block”:”root”,”layout”:”12″,”childs”:[{“id”:”2″,”block”:”rte”,”content”:”The Girls Empowerment Program or (GEP) was started in Maintada, with a goal of aiding girls to pass the Secondary School Certificate (SCC) exam, a test that allows students to advance into the 11^{th<\/sup> grade. Most parents in these villages assumed their daughters would never achieve such a feat, since girls education is not seen as a priority. Despite this ingrained assumption, over the last five years, the team of WRRP has been continually supporting and motivating the girls and their parents. For instance, GEP provides stationery items, uniforms, entrance fees for school, and extra tuition for girls, so that they can excel in school. They have also motivated and encouraged the parents to provide sufficient time and support for their daughters at home.\r\n\r\nWRRP wanted to show them that with proper guidance and support these girls can equally excel in their education just as boys do. The underlying challenge for them was to change the mindset of the community. Although the total number of girls enrolled in education is increasing, the completion rate remains poor. Early marriage, poverty, and parents\u2019 lack of awareness of the importance of girls\u2019 education are just some of the barriers girls\u2019 face.\r\n\r\n With girls from GEP and adolescence group[\/caption]\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nFamilies too often feel that they cannot afford those simple items to let their daughters continue schooling, when all hands are needed to feed the family. Situations such as these aren\u2019t uncommon in Nepal. In many places, family and cultural issues often prevent girls from continuing their education. Formal education is often seen as a boy\u2019s role, while girls are expected to stay home in order to take care of household chores. Girls are often sent to government schools, while boys are sent to private schools to receive a better education. In the view of the families, a girls value truly develops when they fulfill their role as future wives and mothers, rather than as future citizens and producers.\r\n\r\nMany of the girls echoed how this program has helped change their lives. Due to their participation in the program, they are more confident and are also more aware of the social issues that affect their lives personally. As a result, they are inspired to continue on with their education. By providing girls with crucial life skills, targeting them while they are under the age of sixteen and directly supporting their education, WRRP is making a real difference in the trajectory of these girls lives in Nepal. Increased confidence that stems from these empowerment programs helps the girls negotiate key life decisions and transfer the knowledge about the negative consequences of early marriage to both their peers and parents.”}]}[/content-builder]}

6. The Wait

   June 7, 2016 9:49 am 6 Comments

   DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP. DOOOOOOOOOOOOOP. DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP.

   You know that sound? No? Think Skype—now do you know it? Maybe you’ve never paid much attention before, because you only hear it briefly while you wait for your grandma to figure out how to accept an incoming call, or while you sweat in a too-tight collar waiting for a video interview for a summer internship. That’s Skype’s take on a ringback, a mix between a dull dial tone and the shrill classic of a ringing landline.

   I know the sound well. After only a few days in the office of the Greek Forum of Refugees, on the third floor of a nondescript building in a graffitied alleyway tucked into a bustling part of the city, the Skype ringback tone plays in my dreams—I can’t imagine what it’s like for Ismini, Elena, Effy, and the other women working here. But maybe for them it’s just mutable background noise in their daily grind, something they don’t hear at all anymore.

   The people who do hear it, who listen to it intently on the edge of their seats, waiting for the connecting “bloop” to signify that someone on the other end has picked up and is ready to listen, are the asylum seekers who wait outside the office for hours just to sit in front of a computer screen and wait for an hour more to get a 12 minute Skype conversation with someone from the Greek Asylum Service.

   There is a schedule for these calls, it’s not unorganized, but people who sign up for a slot during the one hour per week reserved for Urdu speakers show up early in the morning and wait all day, knowing there is no guarantee that there will be an answer during their scheduled time. Who’s on the other end? Woefully understaffed Asylum Service Officers, there to give this very first interview to asylum seekers, which basically serves to schedule further in-person appointments to continue the asylum application process. Every asylum seeker, whether seeking asylum in Greece or relocation elsewhere in Europe, and even Syrians who have special “fast-track” status, must go through Skype.

   

   Kids waiting outside the GFR office building

   This is something I learned about after asking why there were so many people sitting on the floor in the hallway outside the office (there’s no waiting room or chairs), which itself is a meager two rooms, with a little den area for the computer. There is only one chair in front of the laptop to use for Skype—accompanying family members and interpreters sit on stacks of computer paper and brochures leaning against the wall. They used to have the Skype interviews in the office space, but if you think a constant Skype ringtone would be distracting, imagine an asylum interview happening in your left ear.

   I want to take pictures of the men, women, and children waiting outside the office—especially the children, who play with paper-made guns or patiently sit under their mothers’ watchful eyes—but I haven’t had the guts to ask yet. I become irritable and antsy waiting for two minutes in line for coffee without my phone to distract me, and I feel uncomfortable asking to snap a shot like a tourist of what looks like miserable circumstances, just hanging out in a hallway with nothing to do.

   So why the Skype? Believe it or not, this was a solution to an even more burdensome situation. I don’t need to shock anyone reading this with facts and figures—I think we all know that we are facing a GLOBAL migration crisis. Countries like Greece are bearing the brunt of the burden, and frankly they’re not doing a great job. As Elena, an Italian intern in the office, said, “refugees aren’t the problem, the ineffective asylum system is the problem.”

   This is a sentiment that I remember hearing at the migration panel I helped organize during the Harvard European Conference in the fall—a UNHCR rep said the refugee crisis was only made a crisis because of Europe’s mismanagement. Reading the GFR’s reports and press releases and talking to the incredibly hard-working staff members here has illuminated the daily frustrations faced by asylum seekers in Athens and the surrounding camps (oh and by the way, check here to learn the difference between asylum seekers and refugees, just in case you don’t know!) Instead of listing all of the ways I have embarrassed myself and my people in Athens so far (#sorryamerica), I wanted to use this blog post to zoom in on one of the issues important to this organization and the communities with which it works.

   

   On the wall at GFR office

   Seeking asylum in Greece is all about waiting—anxiety-producing waiting far worse than the security lines at O’Hare Airport. The old asylum system was run mostly by the police. Asylum seekers from Afghanistan, the DRC, Somalia, and other countries would wait in lines by the hundreds outside offices that only arbitrarily accepted about 30 people per day. The excruciatingly slow and unclear process left many without decisions on their asylum applications for a decade, leaving them vulnerable to arrest and deportation and without the right to work, go to school, or receive health and social services.

   A new asylum procedure introduced in 2011 was meant to alleviate the incredibly large backlogs, and meet the challenges of the increasing numbers of people fleeing direct conflict, but many who had been waiting for years weren’t given access to the fairer and more efficient asylum services. The Skype system was created in 2014 in order to improve access to asylum offices and eliminate the unbearably long lines, but it has effectively transferred the lines from outside government offices to outside NGOs’ doors, as it has become common belief that calls from NGOs have a higher likelihood of being answered. During the time it takes to get a Skype call, often a month or longer, the temporary documents asylum seekers are given upon arrival can expire, again risking their arrest.

   GFR has written a press release denouncing the dysfunctional Skype system, as the office staff has been left with the power and burden of deciding who has access to that essential first step. From the report, “Now, each day, we are forced to decide: will we let the young mother in the front, sending home the two young men who’ve been waiting in our office every day? Or should we let them sit at the computer, and send home the young woman with her baby? Should we create a number system, allowing smugglers to gain power and sell them to people? Or should we shut our doors to refugees, feeling totally wrong, like traitors?”

   

   Sitting in Omonoia Square, a common gathering spot for refugees

   Like everything else with this refugee crisis, things are changing rapidly. The EU and Greek government have announced a new pre-registration system in the camps, which will initiate this Thursday and (supposedly) last less than three months. Well, not IN the camps, but in “hubs” nearby—I guess they wanted the inevitable lines to form away from the over-crowded camps, adding transportation logistics to the equation.

   The ambitious project involves wristbands, strict time allotments, and multiple phases, and it will be run by the Greek Asylum Services with the assistance of UNHCR and the relatively new European Asylum Support Office (EASO). I’m not sure how successful it will be in managing the bottleneck created by the Skype system, but I’m really interested to see it in action. GFR has a contract with UNHCR to manage a Community Workers program, in which GFR community members (refugees living in Greece) liaise with and advocate for refugees and asylum seekers in the camps every day, so I will soon be able to visit some of the camps with Andrea who oversees the program.

   I tend to compare all others’ experiences to my own and my perceived capacity to deal with things, because I’m totes self-centered and I’m my only real point of reference, and I just can’t imagine all the waiting and boredom involved in the process. I’m looking forward to finding out about what people do to cope with these circumstances. Or perhaps I’ll find out that my perception is totally wrong—maybe there’s lots of activity and planning happening in the camps. I just hope I can learn directly from the source.

   Oh, and just to throw some fun in at the end, here are some of my favorite pictures from my first week! Don’t forget to check out my Flickr page and Instagram for more!

   

   At my friend Efthymios’ house with Fletcher flag!

   

   Greek changing of the guard

   

   Traditional Greek dancing!

   
   

7. From Neglect to Ownership: The Radical Transformation of Abaka Primary School

   March 25, 2026 5:47 am Leave a Comment

   For years, Abaka Primary School stood as a sobering case study in the limits of traditional aid. Located 46 km from the city center, the school’s modern WASH facilities, once symbols of hope, now sat abandoned, surrendered to wasp infestations and seasonal flooding. This was not a failure of engineering, but a crisis of institutional will. As leadership remained detached, the students paid the highest price: a staggering 17% dropout rate among girls due to menstrual health barriers and a complete lack of defense against malaria. It seemed Abaka was destined to remain a project that looked good on paper but failed in practice.

   

   However, our latest monitoring visit captured the first stirrings of a radical transformation. In a move that has stunned local observers, the administration has pivoted from passive recipients to active custodians. By independently partnering with external actors to drain latrine facilities and formally ring-fencing 500,000 UGX from their own tight budget for infrastructure repairs, Abaka is finally bridging the gap between facility provision and local accountability. By reassigning these rehabilitated spaces specifically to female learners, the school is directly confronting the systemic issues that once forced girls out of the classroom.

   

   This shift changes everything. While significant challenges remain, the learners and the surrounding community are already standing on firmer ground. There is a profound difference between a school facing obstacles alone and one backed by an administration making deliberate, courageous efforts to drive change. With a “culture of maintenance” finally taking root, the foundation is set for our high-impact hygiene and malaria prevention initiatives to achieve true sustainability. The student body is no longer just waiting for help; they are witnessing a leadership that is fighting for their future.

   

   As the sun set over the newly cleared grounds, the head teacher closed his ledger with a finality that felt like the closing of one chapter and the opening of a much more ambitious one. He didn’t just speak of repairs; he spoke of a total institutional reclamation. “We have stopped asking for permission to succeed,” he remarked, looking toward the horizon. The infrastructure is ready, the budget is locked, and the first major hurdle has been cleared, but the true magnitude of Abaka’s “new direction” remains a closely guarded secret, one that promises to ripple far beyond the school gates and challenge the very status quo of regional education. The silence of neglect has been replaced by the focused hum of a revolution in progress.

8. Agent Orange Revisited (series summary)

   February 14, 2026 5:21 pm Leave a Comment

    

   

   Mai Thi Loi has been forced to chain up her oldest son Kien because of his frequent rages, caused by dioxin poisoning. She is seen being comforted by Ai Hoang, an AP Peace Fellow.

    

   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, almost naked and moaning.

   As his mother explained between sobs, Kien had been prone to outbursts of violent rage for years. She had been forced to constrain him after he tried to burn down a neighbor’s house. Kien also ripped off his clothes whenever Mrs Loi tried to keep him covered.

   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. It would also mean surrendering her damaged son to others, perhaps forever.

   So Mai Thi Loi remained in limbo – torn between love for her 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 she had decided to purchase a breeding buffalo.

   I visited her with Ai Hoang, a Peace Fellow (student volunteer) seen in the photo above, and an outreach worker from our Vietnamese partner, the Association for the Empowerment of Persons with a Disability,

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

   Mrs Loi was delighted to take ownership of Opportunity, but her sons were in worse shape than they had been the previous year. Kien was still chained up and Mrs Loi had been forced to lock up her second son Cuong. She later wept on Ai’s shoulder in her kitchen.

   People to people

   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 and returned home to pass dioxin 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.

   Our 2025 Peace Fellow, Angie Zheng from Georgetown University, visited Mrs Loi last summer and found that her second son Cuong was better. But Kien, now 40, was still chained up and his mother – now approaching 70 – was exhausted. Mrs Loi broke down in tears, as she had done ten years earlier with Angie’s predecessor.

   What lies ahead for caregivers like Mai Thi Loi, and the countless other families in Vietnam that have been poisoned by Agent Orange?

   The question has hung over Vietnam and the aid world since March last year, when the Trump Administration abolished USAID, and with it over $100 million a year of USAID funding in Vietnam – almost exactly fifty years after the war ended on April 30, 1975.

   Later last year, according to reports from Vietnam, the US embassy in Hanoi agreed to continue funding for Agent Orange until 2030. But it is unclear how the money will be spent, and in the absence of clarity a recent webinar at the Stimson Center recommended a return to the activism of the 1990s, with a special emphasis on people-to-people contacts.

   The idea is certainly appealing, but what exactly is the people-to-people approach?

   This article offers one answer through our own partnership with AEPD over the past decade. Here in the US, AP has raised $16,134 from 148 generous Americans for the 15 families. We have also deployed 13 student Peace Fellows, including Ai and Angie, to meet with the families and update their stories through blogs and photos.

   In Vietnam, AEPD has helped the families manage their grants through four outreach workers who have themselves recovered from serious war injuries.

   This, to us, is a “people-to-people” project. Like our advocacy, it is built entirely on personal relationships and mutual respect.

   Twelve missing children

   The tragedy of Agent Orange dates from 1961 when US forces in Vietnam began using herbicides to deny forest cover to Viet Cong guerrillas in the South.

   Between 1961 and 1971 Operation Ranch Hand, as it was known, sprayed 19.5 million gallons of herbicide over South Vietnam. This included 12.6 million gallons of Agent Orange, a highly toxic mixture of two dioxin compounds so named because it was stored in containers with orange stripes.

   The link between dioxin and sickness was conceded early on by the two governments, but it took years for the fifteen Vietnamese families we support to appreciate the full horror of Agent Orange.

   Mai Thi Loi never found out how her husband had been exposed during the war, but Nguyen Van Xoan, another veteran, is in no doubt about his own contact. Mr Xoan was deployed in the province of Quang Tri in South Vietnam 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, two veterans, were also exposed to Agent Orange while serving in the south. Mrs Miet later suffered twelve miscarriages before producing a child who lived, but barely. She also has no doubt that Agent Orange was to blame.

   Le Thanh Duc, another Agent Orange caregiver, joined the army after the war ended and took part in a dioxin clean-up at the former US aid base of Da Nang, a notorious dioxin “hotspot.” Three of his children, all girls, came down with a serious pathology around the age of ten and have been almost completely paralyzed ever since. They are now over forty and still in diapers.

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

   The boy’s death seemed especially cruel and sent Ho Thi Hong, his mother, into a spiral of depression. But her husband refused t0 throw in the towel. Mr Duc had just received a loan from AEPD to start a fish sauce business and proudly showed us the big stone jars in his yard, oblivious to the stench.

   Passing down dioxin through generations

   Quang Binh lies just north of the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) that divided North from South Vietnam. As a result, the province received only 3,900 gallons of Agent Orange, compared to the 1.79 million gallons dropped around the former Bian Hoa air base in Dong Nai province.

   In spite of this, Quang Binh has been devastated by dioxin poisoning. The reason is that thousands of soldiers from the province went south to fight and were exposed to Agent Orange. They then returned home after the fighting stopped and passed dioxin to their children. According to one 2013 report, 5,266 individuals in Quang Binh received compensation for illness associated with Agent Orange that year.

   The lack of correlation between spraying and sickness makes it difficult to estimate the overall number of Vietnamese affected. Adding to the uncertainty, the exact process of transmission remains a medical mystery. The best guess is that the dioxin damages the DNA of the fetuses at conception. But this cannot be conclusively proven because most dioxin carriers, like Mai Thi Loi and Le Thanh Duc, have also produced healthy children.

   One thing is not in dispute – dioxin poisoning has wormed its way into every region of Vietnam, every level of society, and every living generation.

   Nor do the statistics suggest that the crisis is “getting better” as veterans pass away. The Quang Binh government recently told AEPD that around 6,000 individuals in the province are still affected – more than in 2013.

   Dioxin poisoning is even being passed to the great grandchildren of veterans (who are classified as “F3” by the government). This is hardly surprising because dioxin has a half-life of up to 15 years in the human body, according to the World Health Organization.

   It is not clear at what point the chemical ceases to become a health threat, but Vietnam will no doubt continue to serve as a grotesque laboratory and provide data for years to come.

   Parents and children

   One feature of Agent Orange has caused particular anguish in Vietnam. This is the fact that children of veterans, who were born long after the war, have suffered more than their parents, who fought and knew there would be risks.

   Nguyen Van Xoan, referred to earlier, suffered from headaches and nausea after ingesting the herbicide. But this was hardly life-threatening, and when we met him forty years later in 2015 Mr Xoan was still a fit man.

   His family, in contrast, had been devastated. 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 has been bed-ridden since childhood.

   When I first visited Mr Xoan’s family in 2015, Tuan was in a wheelchair, making models out of discarded popsicle sticks as seen in the photo below. 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 one of his models of the revered University of Hue.

   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 he died two years later. I still have his model of Hue University on my desk in Washington.

   Of course, not every affected family member has succumbed and some with lesser symptoms have shown signs of improvement. But most children of veterans have been less fortunate. Watching them waste away, and knowing that they were the carriers, has produced a deep sense of guilt in the parents.

   Like Mai Thi Loi, many parents are also terrified at what awaits their children as they themselves grow old and infirm. No doubt there is more institutional care available today than 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 surely 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.

   The economics of disability

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

   Our Peace Fellows have seen plenty of evidence of this through the years. Ryan McGovern in 2011 introduced us to Mr Can, a war veteran, who lost a hand during the war and became a celebrated maker of bonsai trees. Like many other Vietnamese with a war disability, Mr Can drew on the discipline that helped him survive to channel his talents in new directions.

   This does not happen with Agent Orange. Unlike other causes of disability, dioxin strips away human agency and usually leads to an irreversible decline. As a result, and with the empowerment of victims no longer an option, AEPD has decided to focus on their families and caregivers.

   There is an economic rationale to this because families with a severe disability are always among the poorest in society. The Vietnamese government gives a monthly allowance for each family member affected by Agent Orange, and together with other forms of social security this just about covers basic needs.

   But only just. As a veteran and war invalid, Le Thanh Duc receives ten million Vietnamese Dong per month (about $395). His three daughters each receive around 5 million Dong ($200). But the cost of living is high and diapers (for his daughters) alone run to about a million Dong ($40).

   In choosing to spend their grants, all but one family has opted for a cow or buffalo because the animals can be rented out to neighbors and give milk. Best of all, they produce calves, which can fetch up to $600 – a huge sum in the villages.

   But feeding the animals becomes increasingly difficult as caregivers grow older. Mai Thi Loi no longer owns a bullock and wonders how she will support her sons without increased government support.

   Peer support from outreach workers

   In managing their grants, the Agent Orange families have been helped by several veterans who were themselves severely injured in war.

   Over the years, these remarkable individuals have developed deep emotional ties to the families and become fast friends with our Peace Fellows. Last summer Truong Minh Hoc accompanied 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 was himself exposed to Agent Orange during the war. He also knows the agony of having passed dioxin to a child – his oldest son has been prone to wandering the streets alone.

   This sort of experience has given AEPD’s outreach workers a unique rapport with Agent Orange families as well as authority in the villages, where they are viewed as war heroes. This allows them to speak for the families, who keep to themselves, and ensure that their isolation does not tip over into ostracism.

   This is peer support at its best.

   “Don’t let him arrest me!”

   Our own contribution to this people-to-people model from Washington has relied heavily on the thirteen student Peace Fellows who have spent their summers volunteering at AEPD in Vietnam since 2008.

   All have brought their own expectations and skills to the task. Our first Fellow Chi Vu 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, left Saigon at the age of nine and was studying at Columbia University when she signed up to return to Vietnam in 2016. Both women wanted to revisit the country they had left as children, and contribute.

   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 unexploded ordnance (UXO) and landmines. Seth McIntyre (2014) served in the Peace Corps and studied the impact of uranium on a Navajo reservation before enrolling at Brandeis University. Angie Zheng (2025) studies conflict resolution at Georgetown.

   All of our Fellows were born long after the war ended. But all have understood how the US contributed towards the horror of Agent Orange and this has made for some nervous moments.

   Seth McIntyre described one memorable meeting with 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 dioxin poisoning – 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!” 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 remained engaged after completing their fellowships. After returning home to California, Ai Hoang made a pitch to her father. He 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 AEPD team was deeply touched.

   Looking back, all who who have worked on this program on the US side have come away richer for the experience. Jacob Cohn, who was studying at the Fletcher School when he volunteered in 2017, expressed this in a blog:

   “I am someone who’s periodically struggled with anxiety and depression throughout my adult life [but I 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.”

   Jacob raised $1,500 for Duong Thi An and her children, who have struggled with blindness. After graduating from college, Jacob signed up as a writer for USAID only to lose his dream job when USAID was disbanded in March 2025.

   The power of families

   What lies ahead for caregivers like Mai Thi Loi and their families?

   The answer is brutally simple. Agent Orange reminds us that for those directly affected, wars never end with the fighting. The families profiled in this article will suffer for years to come.

   But if they are the victims, these families are also on the front line of advocacy. Consider the following (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 but survived. 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 tempting to turn this into a story about resilience and about the triumph of the human spirit. But that feels too tidy. 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 the most effective advocates. The reason is motivation.

   This is not advocacy in the conventional sense. Most of the fifteen Vietnamese families, like the Phucs, have no interest in preaching to others and are 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. They advocate by surviving against all odds.

   Telling their stories will remain our main contribution, and the years have shown that no one does this better than Peace Fellows. We will continue to link American students with affected families in Vietnam through AEPD for as long as possible.

   The road ahead for advocacy

   What 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? Could the US government again be a reliable partner?

   The Trump Administration appears keenly interested in maintaining the strategic partnership with Vietnam, and this may account for the agreement last September to continue US government support for victims of Agent Orange. If implementation of the new program is left to the Embassy, then that is where American NGOs will have to make their case.

   But when all is said and done, the long-term solution lies with Vietnam. Vietnamese are united when it comes to Agent Orange and one imagines it will remain that way that as long as veterans of the war are alive and respected.

   The families also 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 the recent Stimson webinar noted, Vietnam is a middle-income country and presumably better able than most to cover the cost of expanded health care.

   But like any government, Vietnam must also weigh spending priorities. The fifteen families featured in this article barely have enough money as it is. The government does not provide compensation to the grandchildren of veterans.

   The need for compassion

   Should we expect the world to remain interested in a war that ended fifty years ago?

   Students of history will answer – of course. There are many lessons to be learned from Agent Orange and they will remain relevant for years to come.

   Students of peace will be amazed that the US and Vietnam – two bitter former enemies – could find common cause in cleaning up the remnants of war, including Agent Orange. This inspiring story will be told as long as peacebuilding is taught. Students of war will find the exact reverse – a military strategy of gross irresponsibility executed through a weapon that was indiscriminate, lethal and long-lasting.

   But regardless of the history, there still remains this nagging question: why should we care about a war that ended half a century ago when today’s world is awash with current crises?

   For me, this is a personal question. We all have our causes and one of mine is Agent Orange. People-to-people contact will do that, and I will not easily forget meeting caregivers like Mai Thi Loi and victims like Tuan, the young craftsman who passed away in 2018 and is shown in the photo below.

   Ultimately this is about compassion. Our task at The Advocacy Project is to make the case that families in Vietnam still deserve our compassion for resisting one of the most devilish weapons ever devised.

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

    

   

   The author with Ngyuen Van Tuan in 2016. Tuan died two years later from hemofilia associated with dioxin poisoning.

    

   *

9. 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.

10. 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.

11. 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.

12. 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.

13. 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.

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    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.”

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    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.

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    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

14. Agent Orange Revisited – Outreach Workers in Vietnam

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    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

     

15. Agent Orange Revisited – Cows to the Rescue

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    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

16. Agent Orange Revisited – Ethical Dilemmas

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    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 F3 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

     

17. Agent Orange Revisited – Children and Parents

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    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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18. Agent Orange Revisited – Fuzzy Numbers

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    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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19. Agent Orange Revisited – Poisoned History

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    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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20. Agent Orange Revisited – at a Crossroads

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    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.

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    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.

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    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

     

     

     

21. 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

    *

22. 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

23. 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!

     

    *

24. 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.

25. 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

     

26. 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…

27. 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?

28. 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.

29. 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.

     

30. 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….

     

31. 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?

32. 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.

     

33. 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.”

34. 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.

     

     

35. 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!

36. 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?

37. 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.

38. “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.

39. 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.

40. “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.

41. 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!

     

42. 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.

43. 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?

44. 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. 

45. 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.

46. 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.

47. “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!

48. 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! 

49. 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?

50. 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.

51. 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.”

52. 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.

     

53. 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.

54. 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.”

55. 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

56. 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 sitting 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 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.

57. 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, as though recounting 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.

    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. Phuc 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. Phuc, 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 and 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 filled with warmth, 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.

    

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    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 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.

    

58. A Visit with the Ngô Family

    August 30, 2025 10:31 pm 1 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 gathering carries the faint warmth of a reunion.

     

    

    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 as 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. The space feels restless with the motion of dozens of birds.

    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. 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

59. 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 wish her the same in return. The words pass between us, suspended in translation, and we linger there a little longer with our hands clasped together before we go.

    

60. 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.

61. 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 filled with toys and dolls, their plastic limbs and fabric softened from use. I think about how play continues here, embedded into the daily rituals 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 in the daily repetitions that hold life together: feeding, bathing, cleaning, playing. It is here that the political becomes visible too: how the remnants of war persist in bodies and the environment, into the unpaid labor of families, and the daily rituals of living. 

    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.

     

    

62. 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.

    

63. “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?

64. 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.

65. Life Goes On

    August 4, 2025 12:22 pm 2 Comments

    I was unsure whether I would write another blog on my time in Kenya. At first, I wasn’t confident I had anything left to share. Now that I’ve been home for a little over a week I found some courage for one last blog.

    My summer started off in a very precarious place–the last 6 months have been very dark. And I’ve been hesitant to share publicly about the impact that the cuts to foreign aid and losing my job have had one me. This blog is not the place to recount my experience with the dismantling of USAID and how it felt to be “put through the woodchipper,” but this is the mental place I was coming from when I arrived in Kenya.

    5 weeks later I am in a much different place. The difference? Weeks of conversations with Stella, Shield of Faith’s founder, about her life experiences as an aid worker and now leading a local NGO. Witnessing deadly riots that kept me apartment-bound the first few weeks. Evenings spent with Stella and her family at their apartment watching animated movies and giggling about Shrek quotes. A weekend spent up-country near Mount Kenya with dear friends, Monica and her son Elias, and their family. Endless chapati. Visiting different Nairobi coffee shop every weekend. Weekdays filled visiting Nairobi schools and meeting women who have been composting with Shield of Faith for years.

    Without a doubt, Kenya saved me.

     

    

    Stella, myself, and Sister Jacqueline (4K Club Sponsor) enjoying time at Jacqueline’s home.

    

    Stella and Gill, an long-time friend of the Advocacy Project, who has helped on many a quilting projects!

    

    Tea fields in Mount Kenya

    

    Myself and Elias, Monica’s son, after a weekend up-country enjoying home-cooked meals and monkey sightings.

    

    The peaceful view from Stella’s apartment.

    

    Some of the Children Peace Initiative Kenya team reuniting (Francis, myself, Monica).

    

    Ruth and I spending time in her new maize crops.

    Don’t get me wrong, I channeled a lot of anger into chopping wood while building that Keyhole Garden! But in that moment, I would also find myself looking over at Stella or the teachers who had jumped in to help, and find myself laughing at a joke and asking questions. For the first time in months I laughed without also wanting to cry. (Kenyan hospitality has a way of making you in a better mood even if you don’t want to be).

    I arrived in Kenya with some big wounds and a deep desire for connection. I left with new friends, new ideas, and hope for what’s to come. I’m not sure what my next steps will be–but I do know that life goes on. And for the first time in months I’m excited about that prospect.

    

    Mercy, myself, and Monica after completing the Nairobi Marathon fun run.

    My first, AND LAST, boda boda ride!

66. Farewell Trailblazer: A Mind, A Heart, A Helping Hand.

    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.

67. “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)

     

68. 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!

69. 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.

70. 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

71. “Now, They Want to Live”

    July 28, 2025 10:57 am 2 Comments

    Thakurbaba Municipality, Bardiya District

    Laxmi Chaudhary rocks her three-month old son against her chest with gentle hands. Every now and again, she caresses his baby feet, tugging lightly on his tiny toes, as if to make sure they’re still there. 

    Sarita Thapa sits beside Laxmi on a bench. She’s slight, with narrow facial features and a delicately sloped nose. She leans forward, shoulders curled outwards. Her feet rest underneath the bench, positioned behind her. In this way, she is almost birdlike; her body is preparing to take flight. 

    It’s a particularly sweaty day in Bardiya. Our team has come to Thakurbaba Municipality’s psychosocial counseling center to gain some insight into the mental health needs of conflict affected persons in the area. Laxmi and Sarita, both counselors at the center, agreed to meet with us for an interview, despite the heavy heat. I open my notebook and uncap my pink gel pen, ready to listen.

    

    Our team meeting with (from left to right) Dhaniram Tharu, Laxmi Chaudhary, and Sarita Thapa

    —

    Some (albeit lengthy) context is necessary here. Thakurbaba was one of the most acutely affected regions during the People’s War; fifty-two people were disappeared from the municipality, the second highest concentration of disappearances in the country. Countless others endured torture and sexual violence from state forces. This is no coincidence—58.6% percent of people in the municipality identify as Tharu, an indigenous group to Nepal’s western Terai region. Again, this is not unprecedented. Tharu people have endured a long history of state suppression; in the 1960s, following a US backed Malaria eradication program in the Terai, many Tharu families were violently forced from their land so non-Tharu migrants from the hills could settle there. Newly landless, Tharu people were forced into bonded labor agreements (Kumaiya) with higher-caste feudal landlords in order to receive some food and shelter. Decades of this state-sponsored disenfranchisement imposed poverty, undereducation, and material dispossession onto Tharu people. 

    Nepal’s new 1990 constitution affirmed the right to equal protection under law of all people—religion, race, caste, and sex irrespective—in a complete reversal of the 1854 muluki ain state code, which legitimized caste discrimination at all levels of Nepali society. For the most part though, these constitutional principles were materially significant in name only. As scholar Arjun Guneratne puts it, “one cannot treat as equal people who are not in fact equal.” It takes a lot more to abolish structural inequality than abstract legal principle; each component part of material subjugation must be disassembled (particularly agrarian landholding relations) and reconstrued equitably, a task the Nepali state has yet to comprehensively attempt. 

    In 1996, the Communist Party of Nepal (CPN-M) presented their 40 point demands to the Nepali federal government endorsing a “new socio-economic system and state” opposed to class, caste, and gender exploitation. CPN-M communicated that, if the demands remained unaddressed, revolutionary war would be waged in Nepal. The meat of these demands (anti-capitalism, anti-racism, social justice, state reform) appealed to massive amounts of Nepalis, Tharu people among them, whose livelihoods were being appropriated by class and caste elites for financial gain and hierarchical reification. 

    Indeed, many Tharus fought on behalf of the Maoists during the People’s War. Others did not, and were involved solely in ongoing Tharu land and civil rights movements. Still others engaged in both. Either way, the Maoist and Tharu rights movements became blurred to state security forces and landowning castes that dominated state institutions. Any Tharu advocating for human rights, access to education, what have you, was then at risk for being labelled a Maoist insurgent or “terrorist.” They were made targets. The human cost of such an association was catastrophic, and disproportionately ruinous to Tharu communities in the western Tarai. UN-OHCHR estimates identify 85% of those disappeared over the war as Tharu; in Bardiya District only, 1,200 Tharu lost their lives to the conflict. This amounts to around 10% of conflict fatalities, a gross overrepresentation for an ethnic group that numbers only 6.2% of Nepal’s total population.

    In the wake of the conflict, despite a new constitution and multiple attempts at truth commissions, all 58,052 officially registered cases of extrajudicial killings, torture, rape, enforced disappearance, and displacement remain unresolved. The social transformation fought for by Maoist cadres has yet to be realized, especially for those already suffering against structural violence. Their communities will never wholly recover from the rampant brutality of the conflict. 

    Our team wants to know what is being done to staunch these wounds, especially at the local level. What do communities most affected by conflict brutality need to heal? How are people at the grassroots organizing to fill those gaps left by the government? Who is doing this work? What do they need?

    —

    We sit on the center’s covered porch. Toddlers flit in and out of the center’s front door, shrieking with giggles as their mothers attempt to shepherd them back inside. Ostensibly, Take Your Kid to Work day is convention here. Dhaniram Tharu, another counselor and former BASE-Nepal program coordinator, joins Sarita and Laxmi on the porch now. His face is wrought and serious, but softens at the sight of the children’s mischief. He wiggles his hand at them in acknowledgement. I see you.

    Dhaniram tells us that the counseling center was established as a partnership between Thakurbaba Municipality and the NGO Center for Mental Health and Counseling, Nepal (CMC-Nepal). Previously, its services were only available to conflict victims, but it has since expanded to anyone in the municipality who needs care. Doctors are available to consult with and prescribe medication to those with mental health conditions. Otherwise, it’s counselors like Sarita and Laxmi who go door-to-door visiting with conflict victims and listening to their stories. 

    Due to civil society group lobbying from organizations like Bhagiram Chaudhary’s Conflict Victims Committee (CVC), the municipality has allotted enough funds to the center for all counseling to be free of charge. Sarita says that they’ve been able to provide care to 65 conflict victim families, who bear impossibly heavy burdens. Disappeared husbands, children, sexual violence. Social stigma is particularly weighty for women with disappeared husbands, especially around festival times. Daily family economics are another challenge. A free health facility like the counseling center is not yet commonplace for conflict victims, something that Sarita, Dhaniram, and Laxmi all agree must change. 

    Dhaniram was abducted by state security forces in 2001 for his Tharu land rights work with BASE-Nepal. While detained, he was tortured so brutally that he developed a severe heart condition and needed immediate heart surgery upon his release. 

    “I still have to take heart medication because of the torture,” he relays. “I must pay for it myself.” 

    Dhaniram’s monthly blood tests, medication, and annual trips to Kathmandu for checkups aren’t cheap. In Bardiya, he says his meds run him about 70 to 80 USD. In Kathmandu, that skyrockets to 500 USD. 

    Shuyuan asks him if he ever received funds from the federal government to cover his health and health-related travel expenses. 

    He shrugs.

    “Because of the 2008 Supreme Court writ judgement allotting reimbursement funds to conflict victims, I was entitled to 8,000 USD. I didn’t get all of it though, because I burned my medical records to prevent the state detaining me again.” 

    The burning of medical documents was common practice among some conflict victims who endured state violence. Suffering health conditions without federal assistance meant anonymity, a status preferable to further torture. 

    Dhaniram received around 3,000 USD from the federal government for his heart problems, and 250 USD in compensation for detention. 

    At this point in the interview, he rises; there is work to attend to. Sarita, Laxmi, and Laxmi’s baby remain. The baby sleeps, soundly. 

    “Do you have any suggestions for a name? We haven’t decided yet,” asks Laxmi with a bright smile. Her front teeth are gapped. She rocks her son. 

    In 2002, Laxmi’s brother, Shiriram Tharu, was abducted and killed by Maoist soldiers. He was only 22 years old, a day laborer in a different district. The soldiers claimed to need his help with something late in the night. In the morning, neighbors found his body in pieces. Shiriram left two young children behind him. Laxmi, as the only daughter in the family, helped raise them. She herself was only six years old.

    “Only four of my six brothers are still alive, and my mother already has passed away,” she says later, matter of factly. “Justice must be given now to victims of such conflict violence, while they are still here.”

    Laxmi has worked with the counseling center for the past two and a half years; she says it brings her great happiness to console conflict victims when they are distressed. 

    Shuyuan turns to Sarita now, and asks her what she thinks the community needs. 

    Without hesitation, Sarita speaks. “People in this community need the right to live.”

    Her words hit my heart.

    She continues, detailing the necessity of economic reparations for conflict affected families (“You can’t fight legal battles with the state on an empty stomach”), free health facilities, job quotas, and, most significantly, the swift delivery of truth to victim families. 

    “Families are getting very old and may die before they see justice, when it’s their right to receive justice before they pass,” Sarita insists. “You can’t take away the pain of my mother’s generation. Justice wouldn’t mean as much for me as it would for my mother.”

    Sarita’s father was disappeared by state forces in 1999. He wasn’t involved with the CPN-M, but with a different communist party. For all intents and purposes though, he was a “simple farmer.” One day, he set out to check on his farmland near the river, which had flooded. He never returned. 

    “We would have looked for him immediately, had my mother not been detained for ten days,” Sarita recollects. “She was terribly tortured. Her feet were electrocuted.”

    At the time, Sarita was 14 years old, the middle child. Her youngest brother was three. She and her siblings begged community members to help them look for their parents, but were consistently turned away. Neighbors blamed the children for their father’s apparent Maoist affiliation; to assist them would be to risk harm upon their own families. 

    “They didn’t let us into their homes,” Sarita says. 

    She bristles, then moves on. “Our education was ruined. I was only able to finish my secondary education in 2006, after the war. I was very motivated to study, though. I missed first division marks by one point!” She raises a single finger in emphasis, smiling widely now at the memory of her prowess. 

    Sarita Thapa is a well-known name in Bardiya, and beyond. After completing her schooling, she dedicated her career to conflict activism: the CVC, the Tharu Women’s Upliftment Center, the NGO Story Kitchen. She represented conflict victim interests at her Village Development Council, juggling the needs of five separate municipalities at a time, sometimes for 12 hour shifts. For the past five years, she’s been counseling conflict victims from across Thakurbaba, all the while remaining a prominent face in the survivor’s movement. 

    Sarita’s drive is simple: to act as a safe space for other conflict affected persons to share their stories. “So many people have no one,” she reflects. “Before counseling, people felt purposeless and insignificant. Now, they want to live.” 

    Sarita shifts her weight on the bench. She tilts her head towards me, purses her lips. 

    This bird of a woman. She hasn’t mentioned her own pain once. 

    “I am so proud to be able to listen to them,” she says. 

    She looks it. 

    Dhaniram returns to the porch, a fistful of forms in hand. Administrative stuff, by the looks of it. Sarita accepts the papers from him; she snaps pictures of them, scribbles in the margins. Clearly, they have work to get to. 

    Our team begins to rise, closing notebooks and packing up bags. Laxmi interrupts us. 

    “Thank you for speaking with us,” she says warmly. “You are all so pretty, and your tone has been very pleasant.”

    Us girls giggle, and I blush. 

    “No no, thank you for taking the time to share your stories with us,” I insist to the two counselors, hoping that my sincerity survives Niraj’s translation. 

    Laxmi and Sarita share a knowing look. Laxmi’s baby wakes; his big baby eyes open and close in a slow and certain rhythm, like the wide mouth of a fish. 

    “We are always the ones talking to others, listening to others,” says Laximi, hoisting her son onto her hip as she stands. “But mostly, we don’t have anyone to talk to.”

    —

    Programs like Thakurbaba Municipality’s counseling center are necessary beyond words. The atrocities perpetrated during the People’s War are not some relic of the past to be remembered. They are lived, every day, still, in absence of the brothers and fathers that went to work and never returned; in the silences of elders who’ve resigned themselves to enduring injustice; in the adults who’ve always been adults, their childhoods stolen from them by war and loss. 

    How can wounds shared by whole communities heal? I have been turning over this question in my mind since that blistering day we spent with the Thakurbaba counselors. There are no easy answers. It starts, though, with accessibility. Free remedial health programs are a basic reparation to communities who bear the worst human costs of the war, not to mention decades of underinvestment and government exploitation. 

    Healing continues with sharing the hurt. Community support opens up avenues for restorative connection, affirming the collectivity of both pain and the hope for better. Each conflict trauma shared is a conflict trauma acknowledged. Only with this widespread recognition, bolstered by federal and local governments, can communities begin to find some peace. 

72. Breaking the Chains of Silent Pain.

    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!

73. 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]

74. “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!!”

75. 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.

76. 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.

77. 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.

    

    

78. 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.

79. 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.

80. “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.

81. 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

82. 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.

     

83. 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

84. 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.

85. 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.

86. The Shamba Classroom

    July 15, 2025 11:18 am 4 Comments

    Our Lady of Mercy Secondary School is an all girls public boarding school that hosts students from across Kenya. The school has partnered with Shield of Faith (SOF) for more than a year and is now showing the transformative power of waste management practices in schools.

    We began our visit by touring the compost bins and the shambas (“farm” in Swahili), one of which is located near the school’s greenhouse. The original compost bin constructed by SOF was expanded at the request of the school after teachers began to see the real benefits of organic farming and composting–less trash and food waste, improved crops from organic fertilizer, cost savings, and increased student engagement in sustainability practices. SOF has also constructed tower gardens for the 4K Club, which are especially great for water conservation, small spaces, and teaching students about the food cycle.

    

    Teacher Odhiambo, agriculture teacher, shows us the 4K Club’s compost bins.

    Right now, the kitchen garden supplements school meals. But Teacher Jacqueline, patron of the 4K Club, said her vision for the shamba is to provide eighty percent of the school’s food supply. This would improve nutrition through organic foods and save the school money. Teacher Jacqueline has been a champion of the SOF composting project and has big plans to keep the school moving towards sustainability.

    Gitonga (below) is the school’s caretaker and is one of the reasons for the project’s great success! He manages the day to day responsibilities for the compost and shambas, paying special attention to when and how food waste is put into the bins, compost is turned and distributed, and vegetables are harvested. He also has a famously green thumb! Gitonga fully supports the composting project and is seeing many benefits for the school. In just one year the school has already stopped needing to buy cow manure to fertilize gardens, saving nearly $400 per growing period.

    

    Gitonga standing next to the tower gardens in the shamba that SOF worked with the 4K Club to build. 

     

    Next, it was time to get started on the Demo Farm. The Demo Farm is led by Teacher Odhiambo, who sponsors the Agriculture Club, and is a forum to teach students hands-on farming practices.

    We began by prepping the two lots where we would build a Keyhole Garden and a Hugel Mound. The soil on the shamba is very tough because it is a former construction site… this meant Stella had to get very creative about which structures would be the best fit. With the help of the staff and students from the 4K and Agriculture Clubs, we got to work lugging branches and tree clippings, cutting the supplies into the correct dimensions, and assembling the Keyhole Garden. 

    All of the teachers came out to see the muzungu doing farm work and decided to chip in.

    

    Students carry buckets of soil to layer onto the Keyhole garden.

    Gitonga, Vena, a participant from SOF’s household composting program, and I working on the composting basket for the keyhole garden.

    When I asked the students if they could see themselves composting at home, most said that their families live in apartments and don’t have space. I excitedly showed them photos of Stella’s compost tower on her apartment balcony and explained that composting could be adapted to fit their space. When I asked what would help them teach their families how to compost at home, a student responded that some kind of instructions or reference materials would be the most helpful. That’s the heart of this project: making connections between what happens at school and what’s possible at home. SOF is building more than compost bins, they’re building confidence, imagination, and the first steps toward community-wide change.

    

    Stella’s apartment vermiculture composting setup. This structure was designed by Stella and manufactured by a local business.

     

    During a lunch break, Teacher Jacqueline gave a tour of the cafeteria and the food waste sorting process. After students eat, they sort food waste into what can and cannot be composted. The kitchen also sorts food waste as the staff prepare meals for inputs into the compost bins. This represents a mindset shift at Our Lady of Mercy, where waste management has made its way into daily routines. By reinforcing these practices, students and staff are also more likely to retain these habits outside of school grounds. 

    

    Students sorted their banana peels after lunch to put into the school’s compost bins.

    

    Food waste from the kitchen after preparing lunch, ready to be put into compost bins.

     

    After a long day of hard work, we gathered the students to explain how the keyhole garden functions. The structure shows students how to compost and grow food in arid regions or places where soil is too hard. For example, the keyhole garden allows easy access to a central compost basket, where kitchen and garden waste decompose and naturally fertilize the surrounding soil.

    Exposure to diverse composting and farming practices are important at boarding schools which house students from across the country, including arid regions like Northern Kenya. [It’s important to note that food waste differs across Kenya. For example, pastoralist communities in the north do not usually have much excess food waste because it goes directly to their animals.]

    Students planting and watering vegetables on top of the Keyhole Garden at the end of the day.

    The finished Keyhole Garden. The base is built from logs and twigs, layered with hay, grass, soil, and compost which act as a sponge when it rains. Vegetables are planted on top, with compost put in the woven basket.

    Stella and Teacher Jacqueline also explained that these are concepts students can bring back home to their parents, friends, and communities. They can be done at scale like schools or farms, or in apartment buildings.

    What’s happening at Our Lady of Mercy is more than a school project—it’s a glimpse of what’s possible when communities take the lead on sustainability. Schools like Our Lady of Mercy offer a working blueprint for tackling food insecurity and mounting waste challenges, all while teaching the next generation how to be good stewards of their environment. If we want long-term, transformative change, schools and students aren’t just part of the solution… They are the catalysts.

87. Tackling the Intractable! Cultivating the culture of Hygiene and Wellbeing in Rural Schools.

    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.

88. 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.

89. Đồng Hới, Vietnam

    July 13, 2025 11:46 pm 4 Comments

    I landed in Đồng Hới, Vietnam on Wednesday, June 18th after a long, disorienting 36-hour trip. The itinerary felt tedious in its drawn-out sequence: a bus from Washington, DC to New York; a transpacific flight to Narita; a layover in Japan; then onward to Hà Nội and finally to Đồng Hới. By the time I arrived, I was sweaty, mildly irritable, and buzzing with nerves. I had been looking forward to this trip for months. Yet, as I exited the plane into the small opening of the airport baggage claim, I felt small. 

    Outside the terminal, I met Hồng and Hảo. In the days before my departure, I had practiced how to greet them over and over again with my boyfriend Wilson.

    “I really want to make a good impression,” I kept telling him.

    He coached me on saying “Chào cô,” which he explained was the Vietnamese equivalent of “阿姨好,” a phrase I had once taught him when he visited China with me. The direct translation is something like “Hello auntie,” but it carries a tone of respect and endearment for an elder.

    As I wove through the crowd to collect my bags, I whispered to myself repeatedly: “Chào cô, chào cô, chào cô.” The words felt clunky in my mouth, their intonations rolling awkwardly off my tongue, entirely distinct from the four tones in Mandarin.

    I recognized Hồng immediately from the few Zoom sessions we’d shared before my arrival. She wore a black polka-dot blouse tucked into a mid-length skirt, her hair neatly pulled back. Beside her stood Hảo, in a white dress patterned with soft blue flowers. A mask and dark sunglasses covered most of her face, and a nón lá shielded her from the early morning sun. She offered a small smile and a nod of acknowledgement. I waved, too eagerly, and hurried forward to meet them.

    “Hi Angie, so good to meet you in person,” Hồng said, as I reached her.

    “So good to see you too!” I blurted out. 

    In my anticipation and fluster,  “chào cô” left my vocabulary as quickly as it entered, awkwardly and abruptly.

     

    

    JFK to Narita

    

    Overnight stay in Hanoi

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    On the road, Hảo asked how my flight was and if I was tired from the long trip. 

    “Not too bad!” I answered without thinking. “How are you?”

    “I’m very tired,” she replied plainly.

    I was struck by how distinctly American my response felt: automatic, polite, and customary. In DC, I had grown used to the ritual of office pleasantries: a “how are you” followed by an “I’m good” (or, perhaps, even “I’m okay” when things were not good). I wondered if people in Vietnam were more candid in these exchanges. From the passenger seat, Hồng turned to ask if I had eaten. I shook my head.

    “Do you want bánh mì?” she asked, smiling. “My husband’s shop is nearby.”

    I nodded quickly, relieved by the simplicity of the question and the promise of food.

    The shop sat on a busystreet, the food stand painted a warm cinnabar, tucked into a narrow open-front space. A few round tables and brightly-colored wooden chairs were arranged in front of the stand, with a smaller table set off to the side. Hồng ushered me to the side table, plugging a fan into the socket and placing it in front of me. She proceeded to place a baguette on a little square grill, smearing butter and sauce on the inside before adding an assortment of meats and vegetables. The bánh mì was delicious, a perfect first meal in Vietnam and one I still think of fondly.

     

    

    Hảo (left) and Hồng (right) at Bánh mỳ Quế Châu

    

    Freshly made bánh mì from Hồng

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    Hảo also bought a bánh mì and handed Hồng money as we prepared to leave for my hotel. Hồng waved her hands in protest, pushing the money back toward Hảo. I watched this back-and-forth unfold: shaking heads, sharp gestures, and quick, loud bursts of Vietnamese that might have sounded like an argument to someone unfamiliar with the scene. Finally, Hảo tucked the cash under a bowl on the stand and hurried me into the car before Hồng could return it again. Hồng shook her head once more, and with no other choice, accepted the money.

    The interaction brought back a warm, familiar nostalgia. I was reminded of family dinners in China and endless fights over who would pay the bill. In China, family and friends do not split the bill, a value so deeply ingrained in me that the American habit of splitting still feels like a culture shock, even though I was born and raised there. The ritual of refusal and insistence is its own social script, an unspoken expectation that one does not simply accept generosity; one negotiates it, performs it, and insists on reciprocating. Fighting for the bill, I was always taught, is a way of showing care. I thought about how easily I could have misread this exchange had I not grown up with similar customs.

    I thought about the first time I brought Wilson to my family’s hometown in Fuzhou. Before we arrived, I had warned him that Fujianese people often speak very loudly and that he shouldn’t mistake yelling for conflict. Still, on our first morning there, Wilson shook me awake at 6 a.m., worried after hearing shouting outside. I stirred, half-awake, and brushed it off, knowing it was probably just a casual exchange. A few minutes later, he woke me again. The yelling was much louder this time, echoing aggressively through the village and sounding, to him, unmistakably like a fight. I finally sat up, looked outside, and listened: “小朋友快回家吃饭了! 吃饭了!” A Fujianese grandpa stood shirtless in the street, a broom in one hand, shouting in dialect, “KIDS, COME HOME! FOOD IS READY!” I gave Wilson an amused look (the smug kind that said see, I told you so) and explained what was really going on.

    In that moment, I realized that interpretation is often culturally mediated; what sounds like aggression in one context may be routine care in another. And in the absence of a shared language, when one can only rely on tone and gesture, even more is lost in translation. I was reminded of these events on my first day in Đồng Hới, because I realize there will be several moments in the course of my fellowship where my interpretation of the events may be wildly inaccurate to their actual unfolding. Where I see potential conflict, tension, or discomfort may simply be regular social interactions, laden with fondness or care. And what appears routine may conceal pain, tension, or unspoken expectations that are unclear to me. These moments remind me that interpretation is never neutral, and being here demands an awareness of the limits of my gaze.

     

    

    First day in Đồng Hới

    

    Behind the AEPD office

     

     

     

90. Interview with Devi Khadka: On Survival, Silence, and the Fight for Justice in Nepal

    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

91. 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

92. Servicing a Compost Bin

    July 8, 2025 4:49 am 4 Comments

    The road into Kibera is crowded with merchant stands, water carts, and people going about their day. As mentioned in my previous blog, Kibera is one of the largest informal settlements in the world. Today, Stella and I are visiting Irene to help service her composting bin. Irene is the mother of three children and lives with her husband as tenants in Kibera. She has been part of Shield of Faith’s household composting program for almost five years and continues to grow vegetables in her kitchen garden with the help of organic farming techniques that she learned from SOF.

    

    Irene with her kitchen garden before the compost bin servicing.

    To start, we prepped the area near Irene’s kitchen garden with all of the tools we would use to service the bin. This included laying out a plastic sheet, gardening tools, moving the very heavy compost bins, a duster to transport soil easily in small spaces, and gloves. Irene’s home is on a lot with 3 other families, so it’s important that we keep the area (mostly) clean.

    Then, we dug right in! We began by sifting through Irene’s compost to divide the worms from the organic matter. The worms seemed to especially enjoy all of the avocado in Irene’s bin. This is a lesson that Stella can share with other composters to enrich their bins and organic fertilizer.

    

    Irene and I sifting through the compost to divide the worms up from the organic matter used to replenish the soil.

     

    Irene’s worms enjoying their avocado home!

    After the worms were divided and put back into their composting bin home, we began uprooting the vegetables. Irene also made cuttings from the kale to propagate new stalks. The soil had not been turned in almost 2 years and was lacking any nutrients. It had become very hard and was almost impossible to retain water–and Irene’s vegetables were suffering. We used the spade to break up the hardened soil (if you’re looking for a good workout–look no further!), and then mixed the soil in with the compost from Irene’s bin. The result was a darker, moist soil with new organic material that will help Irene’s vegetables grow bigger, thicker, and stronger.

     

    

    What’s left of Irene’s compost and worms after we divided out the organic matter. Lishe-grow sits on the bottom right. Irene’s old soil sits next to compost, ready to be mixed, in the background.

     

    Stella taught me a quicker and easier way to more thoroughly mix the compost with the soil.

    From there, we added the soil back into the containers and replanted Irene’s vegetables and cuttings. Irene then topped up each container with a mixture of lishe-grow, leachate that drains from the composted material, and water. For best results, the leachate should be mixed at a 1:10 ratio so that it looks like a nice black tea or else vegetables will get chemical burns.

    

    Irene putting her vegetables back in the planters while I wait to pour in the refreshed soil.

     

    Here, Irene mixes the leachate with water to create Lishe-Grow and top up her planters.

    Servicing compost bins is a labor-intensive part of Stella’s project coordination. With three people, it took us more than three hours of hard work! But the hard work pays off for Irene, who is able to harvest vegetables from her kitchen garden almost 3 times a week. She uses them as supplements to her families’ dinners, improving nutrition and cutting costs at the market.

    The servicing cycle for households is similar to the expansion that Shield of Faith is implementing at Our Lady of Mercy, a school near Kibera, except on a larger scale. Our Lady of Mercy produces almost ½ ton of compost per month and it is no small feat for the caretaker employed by the school to service the compost bins like we did with Irene! But through SOF’s partnership with the 4K Club, a government education program designed to promote agricultural knowledge and practices amongst young people, students are learning how to compost and utilize it in their farming practices. Over the course of this year, SOF will expand into four additional schools!

    This is Stella’s vision for students and women engaged with Shield of Faith’s programs: that participants will be empowered by incorporating farming practices into their routines and share it with their communities. Only a handful of worms can make new life out of kitchen waste—imagine what’s possible when women and students begin restoring the systems that feed them.

93. 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.

94. 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.

     

95. 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.

     

96. 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.

97. 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. 

98. 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.

     

99. 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.

100. Returning to Kenya

     June 26, 2025 4:50 am 4 Comments

     In my first 24 hours in Kenya I’m noticing a lot of synergy between my first arrival as a Peace Fellow back in 2022 and my return this week.

     Like in 2022, I arrived in Kenya in the wee hours of the morning, delirious from exhaustion but with much gusto to finally make it to a bed for the night.

     Like in 2022, I received the warmest welcome from my colleague and host Stella, just as Monica helped me in my first few days three years ago.

     Like in 2022, I arrived in Kenya during social and political unrest. In 2022, Kenya was in the midst of very contentious Presidential elections. This first week, the city was shut down for one day for political demonstrations.

     But I’m not the same person I was in 2022 and this is not a traditional Peace Fellowship!

     I’m returning as a Peace Fellow this year after working with Children Peace Initiative Kenya in 2022 and some time as a Board Member for the Advocacy Project. Since my last peace fellowship I earned my Master’s Degree, began working for USAID’s Bureau for Humanitarian Assistance, bought a house with my husband, dealt with some significant health issues within our family, got a giant puppy, and was laid off as part of DOGE’s dismantling of USAID.

     The loss of USAID and embracing unemployment has not been an easy road. And it would be a lie to say I’ve processed everything from the last six months or have enlightened reflections about the world and its musings as a result.

      

     

     Pre-26 hour travel day excitement!

      

      

     But here is what I do know: life will go on whether or not I like the way it looks. So for this one month I’m in Kenya, I am focusing on being present with Shield of Faith (SOF).

     SOF is at the crossroads of environmental sustainability, agriculture, education, and community empowerment. Founded in 2020 by Stella Makena, SOF began as an embroidery collective.  The association quickly recognized challenges in the informal settlement of Kibera, noting food insecurity, pollution, and unemployment as needs to expand into composting and urban farming initiatives. Kibera and other informal settlements are significantly under-resourced and are largely self-governed. People living in informal settlements generally have limited access to public services and experience harsh living conditions.

     SOF began with a group of women noticing needs in their community and doing something about it. Now, SOF is doing even more and scaling its composting and urban farming programs into schools with the goal of these sustainable practices also reaching student’s families and communities.

     Stay tuned here for deep dives into SOF’s new programs and the people behind the work! 🪱

101. 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.

102. 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.

      

103. 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

      

104. 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.

      

105. 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.

106. 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

107. 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.’

108. Hi Nepal!

     June 10, 2025 2:02 am 3 Comments

     I finally get to see you in person, after hearing so many stories about you.
     You are a beautiful country, no doubt about it. You also carry a quiet sense of mystery, like that thoughtful friend who doesn’t talk much but somehow knows all the secrets of the universe. Many people come for your nature, others for your rich culture. But not everyone knows about the painful parts of your recent history. That’s why I’m here this summer, to work with Ram and with NEFAD, and to listen and learn.

     But before we jump into anything too serious, let’s just say hi. Let’s take a moment to meet each other properly. And maybe also figure out how to cross the street without getting caught between a motorbike, a car, a rickshaw, and a very chill street dog who clearly owns the road.

     

     Keep Your Eyes Open — the Motorbikes Are Fast!

     I arrived at Tribhuvan Airport around 3:10 in the afternoon on June 9. This season in Nepal is hot, rainy, and full of warmth. To my surprise, the plane landed half an hour early. A rare miracle in the world of air travel. Customs, baggage, currency exchange, getting a Nepali SIM card — everything went so smoothly that I almost didn’t trust it. But it turns out Nepali hospitality is just very real.

     

     I’ve Got My Own Nepali Money!

     And then there was Ram, waiting for me outside with a big smile and a Kata scarf in hand. I had just arrived, but I already felt like I belonged.

     

     Thank you, Ram!

     To be honest, I didn’t expect to fall in love with this place so quickly. The streets, the people, the food — even the dusty roads packed with motorcycles that zoom past like they’re racing in a Kathmandu version of Fast and Furious. My grandparents live in a town with a similar style, so this place instantly brought back warm childhood memories.

     Ram brought me to a lovely restaurant and introduced me to momo. Life will never be the same. Why is momo not internationally famous yet? I could write a love letter to that dumpling.

     

     The BEST – MOMO

     Some people outside Nepal may only know the country through headlines, and that included me too before I came. But that is not how you truly understand a place. You understand it by how it makes you feel. Here, I see kindness in people’s faces, laughter from children, and a way of life that is both full of energy and deeply rooted in warmth. There is a real sense of home woven into the busy streets. You begin to realise that distant labels and outside assumptions do not come close to capturing the heart of this place. And “Namaste” is truly magical. You can say it almost anywhere, and it opens a door.

     Walking through the city, small religious monuments appear at every turn. Some are tucked into corners, others sit proudly along the roadside. They are part of the rhythm of everyday life. Not just historical monuments, but active, living spaces that connect people to their beliefs and to each other.

     I’m living in Patan now. Life here is surprisingly easy. Grocery shops are everywhere, and you can always find a cozy café nearby, which is important for someone who survives on snacks and coffee. This city is where tradition and modern life sit side by side, sharing a cup of tea.

     

     Strolling the Streets of Kathmandu

     Patan itself is like a hidden treasure. It feels more peaceful and authentic than the more touristy areas, and it is known for its fine craftsmanship. I learned that the four great stupas on the corners of the city were built more than two thousand years ago. That is older than my sense of direction. There are also around 1,200 Buddhist monuments. Every walk feels like part of a very special journey.

     I can’t wait to explore more. And of course, I’m looking forward to beginning my work with Ram on transitional justice and human rights this summer.

     But for now, Nepal, Namaste. Thank you for the welcome. You had me at momo.

109. 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.

110. 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.

      

      

111. 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

      

112. 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.

      

     *

      

113. 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.

     *

114. 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.

     *

     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!

115. 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

116. 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

117. 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

118. 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

119. 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

120. 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

121. 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.

      

     *

122. 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

123. 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

124. 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

125. 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

126. 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

127. 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

128. 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

129. 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

130. 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.

131. Indomitable Ruth

     September 3, 2024 7:30 am Leave a Comment

     A single mother rises above disaster in the Nairobi settlements

      

     

     Humanitarian: Ruth Njeri and her daughter Sharon invited three displaced families to share their one-room apartment during recent floods

      

     When I last met Ruth Njeri, she was striding down the main street in Huruma, one of Nairobi’s notoriously crowded settlements, beaming at neighbors and extolling the virtues of this bewildering place.

     We had spent much of the day in a claustrophobic one-room apartment, high in a tenement building, where Ruth lives with her three children. Ruth showed off her worms, which were munching through food scraps in her composting bins, and proudly displayed an exuberant bag that she had made recently.

     Ruth’s daughter Sharon explained the basics of sign language, which she is studying at college because she wants to work with the deaf. Sharon, who has albinism, explained to me (rather pointedly, but with a grin) that the sign for an old man is a beard.

     We then accompanied Ruth to a tiny scrap of wasteland some distance from her home that she planned to turn into a kitchen garden with help from Stella Makena, a close friend who introduced her to composting. Stella coordinates Shield of Faith, an association of mainly single mothers who also compost, and served as my guide during a journey through the settlements.

     We put out a video on my visit earlier this year. When I wrote to Ruth that she had emerged as the star she was surprised but hopeful that she might inspire others who were down on their luck. She wrote again on World Albinism Day (June 13) to say that we could use photos of her two children with albinism. A week later she wrote to wish me Happy Father’s Day (June 16).

     *

     Last year was also a breakout year for the Shield of Faith composting experiment. As we noted in a recent bulletin, twenty members of the group composted almost four tons of organic waste during the year. Twelve also grew fruit and vegetables in makeshift kitchen gardens ranging from sukuma wiki (a local favorite related to collard greens) to strawberries.

     Shield of Faith showed in 2023 that composting and gardening can be deeply empowering for single women who live in a crowded, polluted urban environment. This year, with the wind in their sails, the composters decided it was time to take their model into the community.

     They planned to do this in two ways. First, they would turn their gardens into composting “hubs” and compost organic waste from local vendors who sell food on the streets. Second, they would introduce composting and gardening to government schools, which offer free meals to underprivileged children in the slums and in the process create a lot of organic waste.

     This compelling vision won Shield of Faith a generous donation from the Foundation for Systemic Change and over $1,400 through a GlobalGiving appeal. We recruited a talented Peace Fellow from George Washington University to help Stella review her experiment and work on social media.

     *

     Then, in April, came disaster.

     Nairobi was struck by fierce storms which caused massive flooding in the settlements. Thousands of families that had erected flimsy houses along river banks suddenly found themselves without a home.

     Undaunted, Ruth offered her apartment to three families that had lost everything in the floods and within days sixteen people of all ages were crammed into her single room. The children, including a two-year old, slept in the big “double-decker” bed that Ruth had purchased with money earned from selling embroidery through our online store. Everyone else slept on mattresses.

     “I used to sleep on the streets with no one to turn to,” wrote Ruth in a WhatsApp message. “It’s my aspiration that people may learn about sharing, however small or little they have.”

     Ruth appealed to friends and The Advocacy Project donated $250 to help with food. All schools were closed during the crisis, which made the children even more antsy and added to the stress. But they managed somehow and after two months the three families found new housing.

     Disaster struck again on June 24 when violent protests erupted in downtown Nairobi. Some settlements, including Huruma where Ruth lives, were relatively unscathed. But several Shield of Faith composters in the settlements of Kangemi and Githurai found themselves under siege. Kangemi remains tense to this day.

     *

     The July riots – unexpected and savage – made it difficult for Stella to visit her team for weeks. They also forced us to recall our Peace Fellow.

     It was a reverse, for sure, but we had reckoned without the indomitable Ruth. Throughout this summer of disasters, Stella and Ruth had been quietly erecting a kitchen garden on the plot of wasteland that we visited last year. By the time of the floods, the garden was a riot of thick green vegetables that helped to feed Ruth’s displaced lodgers.

     Not content with launching her own urban shamba, Ruth then opened a small shop in the heart of Huruma. She borrowed 20,000 shillings ($154) interest free from a friend and also took out a loan of $62 through a savings plan started by Stella for Shield of Faith members. Ruth knew it was a gamble because she has no business experience. But as she told Stella during a recent visit, she particularly likes interacting with kids and is always keen to learn.

     Ruth’s original intention had been to open a general purpose store that deals in exchanged goods (such as used clothing) and is known in Kenya as a malimali shop. She purchased some basic products which didn’t sell as well as she had hoped, so she began offering a cooked breakfast of sweet potatoes. These were soon selling like hot cakes, so she added evening meals of maize and beans (a popular local dish known as githeri).

     Ruth keeps up a grueling pace. She gets up at 5 am every morning, heads off to her store to start cooking, goes home to help her children start their day, and then returns to sell her cooked potatoes. Miraculously, nothing gets stolen in the meantime. Ruth rarely gets home before 10 at night. It’s exhausting but she is – as always – enthusiastic at launching what she calls her “second career.”

     While savoring her new role as an entrepreneur, Ruth also remains aware of her responsibilities as a composter. She has started to collect vegetable remains from another vendor across the road and also picks up waste from street sellers on her way home. Most is composted at her shamba. The rest is fed to her worms at home.

     But Ruth is also deliberately vague if vendors ask how she plans to use their waste. As she explained to Stella, they will start charging money if they know it has value.

     It is too soon to tell if this important insight will slow the development of composting hubs but it will certainly help Stella with planning in 2025.

     *

     With Ruth and Stella showing the way, Shield of Faith appears to have weathered the summer storms. Between January and June of this year, twenty members composted a combined 2.56 tons of foods waste – more than the 2.01 tons composted during the same period last year.

     Six composters with kitchen gardens, like Ruth, are helping neighbors to dispose of their waste in some form or another (the first baby steps towards a hub) and thus making small inroads into the mountains of garbage that litter the settlements. Twelve members are growing vegetables.

     Stella and her team have also helped a large girls’ secondary school (Our Lady of Mercy) to expand composting and gardening. This, too, is in its early stages but could open the way to partnerships with more schools. As with individual vendors, Stella hopes that motivated students will encourage their parents to compost, thus helping to change behavior in neighborhoods.

     Inevitably there are challenges. Three gardeners were forced to move their gardens after their landlords reneged on promises – further proof that life in the settlements is precarious.

     But the urge to innovate is driving this experiment and each setback is met with more determination. If tenacity is anything to go by, Stella, Ruth and their composting friends will remain a sound investment for a long time to come – as well as a reminder to us to get our own priorities straight.

      

     

     Businesswoman: Ruth in her malimali shop in the Huruma settlement

132. Landmines: Intended and unintended environmental consequences of warfare

     August 31, 2024 7:57 pm Leave a Comment

     I returned from my fellowship at the end of July but still find myself thinking of new blog topics every week. So before the new semester picks up, I thought I would share one more post on a topic I wish I’d had more time to write about during my fellowship: the environment.

     

     A Pa-O woman waits to be picked up with her firewood for cooking and heating because her community has no electricity. Across the road is a coal power plant, which sends all its electricity to Thailand and large cities

     There are many topics regarding the environment to write about, including: mining in Southern Shan State to export coal (and – word has it – uranium) to Russia and sell electricity to Thailand, or deforestation to grow poppies for the opium trade (which some resistance groups use to fund their fight for democracy). Here, however, I will discuss landmines, an urgent issue Pa-O Youth Organization (PYO) is dealing with right now and that my coworkers felt passionately about.

     One of the first things my PYO coworkers and I bonded over was love of our respective countries’ natural beauty. Over the course of my fellowship, we spent several afternoons together looking through photos and navigating street-view on Google Maps to show each other our homes. I showed them Trondheim and our fjords, while they showed me the mountainous farmland and jungle around their villages, making me promise to come visit “when this is all over.”

     

     Inlay Lake in Southern Shan State

     “When this is all over” isn’t just referring to the end of the civil war and Southern Shan State being an active battleground. They are also talking about when it is safe to walk on the land again without the deadly threat of undetonated landmines, known as unexploded ordnance, left behind by the fighting.

     Unexploded ordnance refers to munitions and explosives that have not yet detonated but pose a risk of exploding. These weapons often prolong the displacement of communities even after armed combat is over. While international attention (and often funding) tends to shift away after the violence in a conflict is over, unexploded ordnance continues to claim lives even decades later. As recently as April, 5 people were killed by unexploded ordnance in Cambodia, 26 years after the war ended. Ukraine is now recognized as the most mined country in the world, and estimates of de-mining timelines reach over a century from now.

     

     Farmers in Southern Shan State

     In Myanmar, parties on all sides appear to be using such weapons, and Nang Hom explained to me that the military and its allies use landmines to terrorize and drive away civilians as well as militant combatants. What makes this particularly insidious is that people without weapons-training are less likely to recognize landmines, leaving civilians – children in particular – more vulnerable. UNICEF reports that the civilian casualties from explosive ordnance incidents nearly tripled from 2022 to 2023.

     Not only are people being forced from their homes, but they are also losing their livelihoods; grazing pastures and farmland are rendered useless. This strategy has both immediate and long-term consequences. In the short-term, it leaves both people and livestock dependent on the military, through which official international aid is channeled – or withheld. In the long-term, however, it will inevitably stunt Myanmar’s agriculture and economic development.

     The film Lose and Hope also depicts the military’s indiscriminate use of landmines. And it was while watching that film that the brutality of these weapons struck me, as multiple characters over the course of the film lost limbs or were paralyzed or killed by mines planted by the military in villages and training camps.

     

     A landmine victim receiving aid from PYO

     Nang Hom and Lili explained to me that the communities in Southern Shan State do not have the medical resources to deal with the people who come in contact with the mines. As a result, they suffer more casualties and are forced to conduct medical treatment with limited equipment, including amputations without pain medication.

     It’s a testament to the problem-solving mentality of PYO and the individuals I worked with that one of the first things Nang Hom brought up on this topic was how to teach community members to de-mine and recognize mines themselves. She noted that the unexploded ordnance have contributed to a climate of fear, and unless people feel that they can move about safely and make their communities safe again, this fear will stand in the way of peacebuilding and reconciliation.

     (The impact of landmines on the natural environment and animals is also fascinating and heartbreaking – I recommend this article about elephants being pushed into mined areas in Myanmar by deforestation in Thailand to glimpse the toll animals pay for our fighting.)

133. 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.

134. 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.

135. “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.

136. Neemola: Widespread Engagement and Huge Potential

     August 11, 2024 5:14 am 1 Comment

     It’s official: My Peace Fellowship with Jeevan Rekha Parishad (JRP) has come to an end. As I prepare to transition back to my life in the United States, I want to extend a heartfelt thanks to Dr. Manu, Biraj, Surajita, and the entire JRP team, both past and present, for hosting me this summer. And, of course, I am extremely grateful to Iain Guest and The Advocacy Project (AP) for making this experience possible. This summer has been an absolutely incredible, unique, and insightful journey. The opportunity to work in the field, immersed in a community so different from my own, has been profoundly instructive as I shape my career in international development and planning. I’ve learned that no matter where you are in the world, community is where the work must begin and end. JRP clearly understands this principle, and I will undoubtedly adopt many of their field techniques in my future endeavors.

     

     Making new friends during my last field visit

      

     

     My last photo at JRP

      

     Overview:

     During my fellowship, I’ve contributed to various aspects of JRP’s operations, including grant writing, website development, branding, and social media. However, my primary focus has been the Neemola project. This initiative, devised and implemented in partnership with The Advocacy Project, is aimed at empowering local communities through economic opportunity while combating malaria. It has shown remarkable progress and potential for sustainable impact.

     The Neemola project is not merely an economic endeavor, but a holistic approach to community development and public health. In just the first few months of operation, the project has engaged approximately 100 participants, including 50 dedicated seed collectors who receive compensation for their work. JRP has successfully fostered widespread community involvement across several additional key roles:

     1. 10 ASHAs (Accredited Social Health Activists): These workers facilitate the distribution of neem oil and other products. They also manage distribution databases for high-need recipients such as lactating mothers, pregnant women, and young children across multiple communities.
     2. Anganwadi Workers (AWWs): These individuals oversee nutrition, early education, and malaria monitoring in clusters of two to three villages.
     3. Self-Help Group (SHG) leaders: They coordinate the daily activities of women in tribal villages, many of whom are engaged as seed collectors or in other start-up activities. The leadership structure includes:

      

     Cluster Resource Persons (CRPs): Each leads 10 SHGs

     Master Bookkeepers (MBKs): Each oversees 3-4 CRPs

      

     Each self-help group is distinguished by its unique uniform, symbolizing unity and organization within these communities. It would be a grave misconception to view tribal communities as lacking capability. In reality, they possess a highly organized and meticulous top-down structure that is more than capable of facilitating effective project implementation.

     

     Every tribal Self-Help Group sports a unique uniform

      

     

     Interview with an MBK

      

     Economics:

     The economic benefits of the Neemola project are already evident for participants. Seed collectors are earning valuable supplementary income, with approximately $500 USD (equivalent to nearly 42,000 rupees) distributed to them so far, according to the most recently updated project budget. One woman reported earnings of 900 rupees (equivalent to around 18 kilos of collected neem seeds). Participants in other activities, such as trainings and tree plantations, also receive small honorariums. These earnings are being used for critical needs like school fees, emergency funds, and healthcare. The project complements existing sources of income such as livestock rearing, forest product collection, and small-scale agriculture, helping communities build a more resilient economic future.

     During an interview, one participant shared her experience: “After receiving money from collecting neem seeds, I deposit it in my bank account and can use it for emergencies. This extra income can be useful for health issues or school tuition.”

     

     This woman has earned approximately 900 rupees

      

     Achievements and Challenges:

     JRP’s achievements in just a few short months have been significant. Already:

     1. 1 quintal (100 kilos) of neem seeds have been collected. While this is slightly behind the target due to staff turnover and extreme summer temperatures, an additional 5 quintals are expected by the end of August now that new staff have been trained. In total, 6 quintals of seeds can produce approximately 240 kilos of neem oil.
     2. 128 bottles of neem oil have been produced and distributed. This first batch is being distributed for free to introduce people to the product, with plans to eventually sell it to cover production costs.
     3. 100 neem trees were procured from the forestry department and planted by tribal women in Daspalla to ensure long-term sustainability. JRP aims to eventually establish a neem tree demonstration forest.
     4. 12 women, including members of Self-Help Groups, an ASHA, and a Master Bookkeeper, were trained in neem seed processing and bottling.

      

     

     Sorting and processing neem seeds

      

     

     Bottling and labeling Neemola

      

     

     Planting neem trees

      

     

     Distributing Neemola

      

     Cultural Integration:

     One of the most memorable experiences from my final field visit was witnessing a Pala performance. Pala is a traditional Oriya theater form where actors, adorned in vibrant traditional costumes, create impromptu performances on any given topic. For the Neemola project launch, we commissioned a Pala focusing on the themes of malaria prevention and the benefits of neem oil.

     The performers, resplendent in colorful kurtas, dhotis, and elaborate headgear, crafted an entire production on the spot. Through a captivating blend of music, dance, and dialogue, they recounted the tale of an ancient kingdom’s struggle with malaria and how neem emerged as the solution. It was truly fascinating to witness how these skilled artists seamlessly wove together historical context, current health concerns, and the significance of the Neemola project into their performance.

     

     The vibrant Pala performers

      

     

     Pala performers distributing neemola after the show

      

     Future Plans:

     As JRP moves forward, they will address several key areas:

     1. Scale: While currently behind the initial target of 10 quintals, JRP is optimistic about catching up in the coming months as it adjusts from recent staff turnover.
     2. Distribution and sales: The first 40 kilos of neem oil will be distributed for free to introduce the product. The remaining 200 kilos expected this year will be sold in local markets in Daspalla and city markets in Nayagarh and Bhubaneswar. An estimated income of 3000 rupees per month is expected, which will cover production costs, with any surplus going to neem seed collectors.
     3. Marketing: A new marketing manager, Sandeep, will spearhead efforts to bring Neemola to markets beyond the tribal villages.
     4. Pricing/Accessibility: To ensure long-term accessibility, tribal communities will be able to purchase Neemola at a 50% discount from the JRP office – 10 rupees for a 100 ml bottle and 25 rupees for a 250 ml bottle.

      

     Conclusion:

     The Neemola project stands out as a truly unique initiative. It’s not merely an economic endeavor, but a holistic approach to community development and public health. The remuneration, coupled with the provision of neem oil and repellents in an underserved area prone to malaria, is crucial. This startup has created opportunities for women to earn, save, and contribute to their families’ well-being. Importantly, participating in the project doesn’t detract from other work commitments. Women have reported seamlessly integrating neem seed collection into their daily routines, such as during their commutes to and from agricultural activities like rice cultivation.

     

     Ruce cultivation

      

     

     In the rice paddies

      

     Overall, I’m optimistic about the Neemola startup’s future. The growing enthusiasm of participants, as news spreads about the opportunity for extra income, coupled with the meaningful economic benefits and potential for scalability, all point to a sustainable and impactful initiative. While not without its challenges, the project has demonstrated the power of community-driven development.

     As the project continues to evolve under the guidance of Sandeep, the new marketing manager, and Abhilipsa, the new field strategist, I’m confident that the startup will meet its objectives and grow. All of the pieces are in place. Finally, none of this would have been possible without The Advocacy Project’s funding and steadfast support, and JRP looks forward to working with AP to continue funding this valuable and rewarding project.

     Thank you, JRP and AP, for providing such a fascinating and instructive summer experience.

137. Ratha Yatra

     August 5, 2024 9:27 am 1 Comment

     This post is quite long, but I wanted to make sure I give justice to the enormity of this event!

     As my computer works overtime uploading the hundreds of photos and videos from my last field visit, and Biraj guides the new hires through their training, I’ve finally found a moment to write about something I’ve been eager to share. It’s time to dive into what might just be the most energetic, incredible, and unique cultural event I’ve ever experienced – the Ratha Yatra festival in Puri.

     Ratha Yatra, also known as the Car or Chariot Festival, is one of the grandest and most attended Hindu celebrations in India. Held annually in June or July in the coastal city of Puri, this ancient holiday celebrates the journey of Lord Jagannath along with his siblings, Balabhadra and Subhadra, from their main temple to Gundicha Temple, their summer garden retreat. The deities are transported on enormous, colorful wooden chariots that are pulled by thousands of devotees down Grand Road, the main street of Puri. The festival symbolizes Jagannath’s care for his devotees, reflecting the idea that divinity is accessible to all regardless of caste. In fact, Ratha Yatra is unique in its inclusion and openness to people of all caste backgrounds. For many, participating in this festival is like a rite of passage that offers a chance to connect with the divine and earn religious merit.

     Naturally, I couldn’t pass up the chance to witness Odisha’s most significant festival. On the advice of an Indian friend from grad school, I wisely booked a hotel room in Puri months before my India trip. Little did I know I was in for a VIP experience. My friend had promised to “take care of me,” but I hadn’t grasped what this meant. The day before my departure, I was caught off guard when an MP’s executive assistant showed up at JRP’s office, calling me over to hand me a coveted Cordon Pass. These passes are like golden tickets to Ratha Yatra, granting access to restricted areas and offering unparalleled views of the proceedings – a luxury typically reserved for dignitaries and officials. As it turns out, my friend, currently on leave from the Indian Administrative Service to pursue a Master’s at Harvard, wields considerably more influence than I’d realized.

     

     A coveted cordon pass

      

     When I finally reached Puri for Ratha Yatra, exhaustion hit me hard. The past week had been intense – my longest field visit to Daspalla, followed by a brutal fever that peaked at 105°F just the night before. Despite barely recovering, I’d pushed through a full workday before heading out. So when I got to my hotel, I did the only thing my body would allow – I passed out.

     By morning, I was rejuvenated and had time before the festival’s 2 PM start. I decided to explore Puri’s coast and the northern fishing district. In the hotel lobby, I met an unexpected companion – an Israeli traveler, the first foreigner I’d encountered in India. A 40-year veteran of Indian travels, he knew Odisha well. After a quick breakfast of samosas and chai, we headed to the northern beach, dotted with colorful wooden fishing boats called “nava” or “padava”. The beach, unfortunately, was marred by litter and sewage. En route, we navigated the fishing village’s narrow, winding lanes, bustling with life and the aroma of drying fish. Just as we were about to leave the polluted beach, some fishermen waved us over. Surprisingly, they were Christians from Andhra Pradesh. Many fishermen in Puri are Christians due to historical migration patterns and missionary activities to the south. We chatted with them for an hour before returning to the hotel to refresh for Ratha Yatra.

     

     The narrow streets in the fishermen’s village

      

     

     Fishermen hoisting a Padava into the water on a dirty beach

      

     A couple of hours later, we set off toward the festival grounds. Soon, we encountered the massive procession of devotees slowly making their way to the main staging area. Here, I parted ways with my new companion; he went in search of a comfortable viewing platform, while I plunged into the masses in search of the cordon.

     

     Ratha Yatra is getting close!

      

     

     The crowds on the walk to the staging grounds

      

     Navigating the crowd was not easy. Elbows flew and bodies shoved in every direction, with thousands of people pressing in from all sides. The only way forward was to push through forcefully, occasionally finding streams of people moving in the right direction. It was a frustrating task – I’d gain 100 meters, only to be pushed back 75. All the while, I was collecting bruises from the surging mass of humanity. The situation was made slightly more bearable by police officers standing atop vehicles, spraying cool water onto us below.

     Eventually, I neared the cordon, where everyone was trying to break through the line. About 10 meters back, with the crowd struggling against a line of baton-wielding police, I seized my chance. I raised my pass high and screamed to catch an officer’s eye. In an instant, the police forced their way into the crowd, beating people back, grabbed my arm, and yanked me into the cordoned-off area.

     

     It wasn’t easy getting to the cordon area

      

     I must admit, I felt a pang of guilt receiving this privilege at the expense of others’ wellbeing and safety. The cordoned area is viewed with resentment by many Hindus, who see it as a benefit reserved for Indian elites. However, I couldn’t help but feel relieved to finally be in a space where I could breathe.

     

     Room to breathe in the Cordon area

      

     With space to move my legs, I made my way to the stage where the President of India was delivering a speech. Though I couldn’t understand the words, the crowd was clearly enthralled. However, my gaze was drawn to the true stars of the show: the three massive chariots.

     My VIP status afforded me a rare, up-close view. Each chariot, or ‘ratha’, is a wooden behemoth standing over 40 feet tall, crafted anew each year. The largest, Lord Jagannath’s Nandighosa chariot, boasts 16 wheels and is adorned with red and yellow fabric. Balabhadra’s Taladhwaja chariot, slightly smaller, is covered in red and green, while Subhadra’s Darpadalana is the smallest, draped in red and black.

     

     Someone up there is the President, and they were saying something

      

     

     The stars of the show

      

     These chariots are more than mere vehicles; they’re temples, carved with religious patterns and topped with cloth canopies. Even the wheels are considered sacred, believed to bestow blessings when touched. As I observed, priests and select officials climbed aboard, readying for the journey. These lucky few occupied an even more exclusive VIP area – the chariots themselves.

     

     At the base of the chariots

      

     

     VVIPS on the Chariots

      

     

     It was a crowded scene, even in the VVIP area

      

     Within the cordoned area, I found myself in a microcosm of the festival. Reporters bustled about, while devotees danced and sang with joy. I joined with groups of people chanting “Hare Krishna” – a nod to Lord Jagannath’s connection to Krishna, of whom he’s considered an abstract representation. Groups of women also performed the traditional Odissi dance, their fluid movements reflecting age-told traditions. Others engaged in spontaneous expressions of devotion – spinning and leaping to the rhythm of drums and cymbals.

     

     Women dancing the Odissi

      

     Amidst the celebrations, a palpable anticipation built in the air. Finally, the moment everyone had been waiting to arrive! It was time to pull the chariots! The crowd’s energy shifted, focusing intently on the massive wooden structures. The air brimmed with excitement as thousands prepared to witness and participate in the movement of the divine through the streets of Puri.

     As a VIP, I was granted the honor of being among the first to pull Balabhadra’s green chariot, the Taladhwaja, which traditionally leads the procession. Lined up with hundreds of other attendees, we waited with anticipation for the signal. Suddenly, the air reverberated with the resonant sound of the ‘sankha’ – a conch shell horn blown to mark auspicious beginnings in Hindu rituals. At this sacred signal, we collectively grasped the massive, sturdy cotton rope, symbolizing the bond between the divine and devotees. Together, we began to pull. While I’m not a believer, I could feel the weight of tradition, faith, and thousands of years of devotion all channeled through this single act.

     Pulling the chariots is considered more than just a good omen; it’s believed to be a direct interaction with the divine. Hindu tradition indicates that participating in this pull cleanses one of sins and grants spiritual merit. The physical act of pulling is seen as a metaphor for drawing the divine closer to oneself, both literally and spiritually.

     

     Police ready the rope for the chariots

      

     

     I was honored with first pull

      

     Soon after we began pulling, chaos erupted. The line separating those with passes from the general public suddenly dissolved, and I found myself engulfed in a sea of humanity. Millions of bodies pressed in from every direction, leaving me disoriented and unsure if I was looking up or down. For the first time in my life, I viscerally understood how stampedes can occur. Despite the overwhelming crush, I was determined to see the festival through to its end.

     Over the next 4 or 5 hours, I rode waves of people up, down, and around the main street. I chased ropes attached to the massive chariots, joining in the thunderous chants of “Jai Jagannath!” – meaning “Victory to Jagannath!”. This powerful invocation is both a celebration of the deity and a cry of devotion. While one might think religious fervor is necessary to endure such an overwhelming event, I can attest that the sheer adrenaline rush of being there is enough to carry you through.

     

     Jai Jagannath!

      

     

     A Ratha well Rathrad

      

     Against all odds, I not only survived but managed to pull all three chariots – Balabhadra’s Taladhwaja, Subhadra’s Darpadalana, and finally, Jagannath’s Nandighosa. This trifecta is considered especially auspicious, believed to bring immense spiritual merit. However, this spiritual triumph came with physical costs. Weeks later, I still have a couple of scars and bruises as souvenirs of this intense experience.

     Tragically, not everyone emerged from the festival unscathed. Each year, Ratha Yatra sees casualties due to stampedes, and this year was no exception. This reality leaves me utterly conflicted. On the one hand, the festival’s openness to all, regardless of social status, is truly beautiful. On the other hand, the lack of adequate crowd control measures is a grave concern. India, unfortunately, experiences more deadly stampedes than any other country, often during religious gatherings. It’s heartbreaking that events meant to celebrate life and spirituality often lead to loss of life. This underscores the urgent need for improved safety measures that maintain the festival’s spirit while protecting its participants.

     Despite these heavy thoughts, I can’t deny the profound impact of this experience! Ratha Yatra offered a raw glimpse into the heart of Odisha culture and Hindu devotion. It’s precisely these intense, immersive experiences that make travel so invaluable.

138. 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!

139. 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.

140. 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.

141. 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.

142. 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.

143. 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.

144. JRP’s Evolution: Progress Amidst Change

     July 27, 2024 3:22 am 2 Comments

     To begin with some sad news: Surajita has left.

     This is a significant loss. Up until now, Surajita has been essential to the success of JRP’s malaria programs. Her dedication, strong people skills, and willingness to work in difficult conditions made the malaria program a great success. It takes a long time to build up sufficient trust in the field to become an effective operative, and Surajita was not only well-known throughout the Daspalla and Chandaka tribal areas but also seen as a friend by many. While JRP has become a trusted entity thanks in large part to her work, it will nonetheless take time to build new working relationships. She will be missed, but I’m confident she will excel in her new position as a fellow with Sewa International.

     

     Surajita will be missed at JRP!

      

     JRP is currently in transition, hiring new staff to fill the gap. Admittedly, we’re running below capacity right now; the office has been somewhat hectic with candidates coming and going, and field work has largely been on pause. This has had a slight impact on my fellowship; I would have loved to have more time with the communities JRP serves, but one must roll with the punches. Unfortunately, I cannot conduct fieldwork alone; the language barrier and lack of transportation options make it unfeasible. That said, knowing JRP’s commitment to thorough fieldwork, I’m confident that whoever they ultimately hire will be excellent. Despite the tumultuous nature of the last couple of weeks, the future remains bright.

     While I would prefer to be in the field, this step back has allowed us to make significant progress on tasks that have long been on the back burner. Biraj and I have used this time to focus on building out all the necessary online infrastructure and program documents. These efforts will enhance JRP’s brand and reputation going forward, setting the organization up to secure essential grants and funding.

     First and foremost, JRP has a new website – jrpindia.org. Published this week, it still has a few kinks to work out, but I’m confident its intuitive design and clarity will be a significant asset. Not only does JRP have a new website, but the nonprofit can now receive online donations for the first time in years! I helped set up an account with an online payment portal and embedded it into the website, allowing them to receive donations directly from site visitors.

     

     The malaria project page on JRP’s new website

     

     The payment portal on JRP’s website

      

     I have also registered JRP with sam.gov, grants.gov, USAID, and the UN Partner Portal. Each platform required mountains of information and multiple codes from different agencies like NATO, with each taking weeks to get approved. To be honest, I’m a bit shocked that it all worked out! These platforms will be incredibly useful for connecting JRP with larger organizations looking for subcontractors with local and regional knowledge on major projects.

     We have also used our time in the office to make progress on the malaria project. Biraj and I recently finalized a proposal and budget for JRP’s malaria program that combines their successful malaria prevention program around the Chandaka Forest with the Neemola startup. This integration merges the plethora of prevention services in their larger program with the economic development and entrepreneurial spirit of the neem oil project. Having this proposal in hand has allowed us to start tackling grant applications. We hope to have a finished application for the Paul Hamlyn Foundation soon—an organization that specifically funds work with tribal communities in Odisha and a few other Indian states.

     

     Biraj hard at work in the office

      

     Meanwhile, as we gear up for one final visit to Daspalla before my departure, we wanted to ensure all the branding is in place for the Neemola product. We now have a label for Neemola, and we intend to produce our first few bottles in the first week of August.

     

     The label for Neemola oil in Odia

      

     This is only a portion of what we have worked on this month. While it may not look terribly exciting from the outside, in reality, this is often the most crucial work. Fieldwork is appealing, but it amounts to nothing without a strong infrastructure to support it.

     Although we have primarily been in the office, we did manage to make one field visit last week. JRP, with its partners Jeevika Trust and the Evan Cornish Foundation, held a one-day event in Daspalla called “Training of Farmer Producer Groups on Organic High-Value Crop Cultivation & Market Integration.” While I couldn’t understand most of the dialogue in Odia, the event included a panel talk presented by experts in organic farming for women farmers in the Daspalla tribal areas, a Q&A session, and the distribution of seeds with explanations of their uses and cultivation techniques.

     

     Seed Distribution in Daspalla

     

     A farmer outside the event hall in Daspalla

     

     You can’t leave Daspalla without some fresh produce

      

     Now, I’m on the home stretch of my fellowship. I know it’s a cliché, but it truly is hard to believe that I’m already at the end. While I haven’t had as much time in the field as I would have wished, I will have a few more days there. Overall, however, I would characterize this summer as highly successful. I believe that what we have built together—a stronger Neem project, new online systems and infrastructure, and social media strategies—will make JRP an even stronger and more successful NGO going forward.

145. 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.

146. Cow Mortality is Changing Dowry Tradition

     July 23, 2024 9:37 am 2 Comments

     Cow mortality is impacting the dowry tradition of pastoralist communities, including the IlChamus and Pokot. As you may know, dowry refers to the number of cattle that a groom must pay the family of his bride in order to marry her. In pastoralist communities, it makes sense that cows are involved in marriage, as marriage is one of the most important markers in their lives. After all, this is a culture where cows are not only a life source but also a symbol of social and financial capital.
     

     As described in my previous blogs, cows are increasingly dying at a higher rate and at a younger age. This means that grooms have fewer cattle to offer father-in-laws. In Pokot culture, dowry is approximately 15 cows, 60 goats, and 4 camels. Due to the shortage of cattle, it has become normal for grooms to pay over time, after the marriage has taken place. For example, if a groom can pay 10 cows “up front,” then he’ll be 5 cows in debt.

     

     Cheparwas Aron, a Pokot woman (in Komolion location), age 40

      

     On the one hand, this change indicates that these communities are gradually moving away from the sexist practice of dowry; hopefully, this will give women the leeway to be seen as more than just a prize for cattle. (Note that this is my Western perspective of dowry. However, CPI Director Hilary—who grew up in a pastoralist tribe—informed me that dowry is not internally seen as sexist, rather a custom in an overall sexist society). On the other hand, will dowry take on a new form? Considering this transition period, is this a time for organizations (such as CPI) to intervene and ask them to consider transforming this symbol of marriage?

147. Conflict Survivors are Building Community for Themselves

     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.

148. A Visit from Bangladesh

     July 20, 2024 4:20 am 2 Comments

     JRP and KT Global School, where Dr. Manu serves as the Director of International Relations, both work diligently to involve foreign volunteers and students in their programming. These guests bring global attention to the organizations’ projects, demonstrate organizational prestige, and attract investment. Both organizations also strive to build bridges with neighboring states. It’s no secret that India’s relationships with Pakistan, Bangladesh, Myanmar, and China are strained. Inviting nationals from these countries to participate in joint educational programs and ceremonies plays a critical role in upholding JRP’s mission to promote peace and build community in India and around the world.

     Last weekend, after a reportedly arduous visa process, a cohort of students from Bangladesh was finally given permission to enter India. Despite Bangladeshi people sharing significant cultural and linguistic ties with nearby regions of India like West Bengal and Odisha, modern borders create artificial and arbitrary divisions that don’t reflect overlapping identities, shared histories, and cultural affinities across South Asia. Today, the border is notoriously difficult to cross for citizens of both countries due to historical tensions and mutual suspicions about illegal migration and security risks – exemplified by a 2016 Dhaka café attack claimed by the Islamic State – which have resulted in rigorous vetting processes, lengthy wait times, and a high rate of visa application rejections for legitimate travelers.

     Finally in India, JRP and KT Global pulled out all the stops to ensure an unforgettable experience for the visiting students and build lasting cross-border ties. I was lucky to join them during their visit to Chandaka to experience Odisha’s rich tribal cultures, an essential component of their itinerary. In Chandaka, most villages are either Munda, Santal, or a mixture. These tribes are most known in India for their unique musical traditions and dance forms. In particular, they are famous for their rhythmic drumming and folk dances performed during Hindu festivals, rituals, and celebrations that celebrate the communities’ deep connection to nature and the spiritual world.

     

     A Santal man makes deliveries in Chandaka

      

     

     The Chandaka community walks down the road to greet us

      

     During the students’ visit, this heritage was on full display. When the students stepped off the bus, the villagers welcomed them with jasmine flowers placed in water. In this tradition, guests are gently splashed with fragrant jasmine-infused water, symbolizing purification, refreshment, and genuine hospitality.

     

     A Santal girl picks Jasmine flowers for welcome ceremony

      

     Immediately after the greeting, the visiting female students were asked to join the local women for the Sohrai dance. In this folk dance, men play a large drum called the Tamak while all of the women hold hands of link arms and dance in a line. The women move in a captivating, rhythmic, swaying motion and take small steps forward, backward, and to the side in unison with the drumbeat. During our event, the women also donned the traditional Panchhi, a type of saree that consists of a white cloth with large red borders adorned with tribal patterns. Many women also complement the Panchhi with silver necklaces or anklets, freshly cut flowers, or headbands. Unfortunately, the visiting men couldn’t participate. While there is no limit to the number of women dancers, there weren’t enough drums to go around.

     

     The Sohai dance in Chandaka

      

     

     Bangladeshi students join in

      

     

     In full swing

      

     In addition to cultural exchange, the visit was also used as an excuse to hold an event in support of JRP’s ongoing awareness campaign on menstrual hygiene for adolescent girls. Little access to sanitary products, few women’s health facilities, and cultural taboos that isolate girls during their periods are just a few of the challenges that women face in tribal communities. JRP, with its Dutch partner Haella Stichting, is attempting to normalize proper hygiene through workshops led by women from similar cultural backgrounds who have personally faced and overcame the same issues. The initiative intends to build trust, break down cultural barriers, and communicate proper hygiene practices in a culturally sensitive and relative way, empowering women to stand up for themselves and adopt healthier lifestyles. After the workshop, the Bangladeshi students each took turns handing off a menstrual hygiene kit to a local girl. Meanwhile, the boys played cricket outside.

     

     Cultural exchange: Bangladeshi visitor meets local students

      

     

     Dr. Manu welcomes visitors to the event

      

     

     A Bangladeshi girl hands off an hygiene kit to a Santal villager

      

     

     The boys playing cricket outside

      

     

     Another successful event!

149. 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

150. 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.

151. 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.

152. 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.

153. 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

154. The Tribal Context for Neemola

     1:32 am 3 Comments

     To fully grasp the nature of the Neemola project, it’s crucial to understand the tribal context in India. Both tribal and non-tribal people are indigenous to the country, which raises the question: What distinguishes these groups?

     I must admit that before arriving in India, my understanding of this distinction was limited. The topic is complex, and the experiences and histories of tribes across the subcontinent vary dramatically. To address this gap in my knowledge, I visited the Odisha Tribal Museum prior to our most recent site visit. I hoped to deepen my understanding of the region where I’ve been working this summer.

     

     A mock tribal house at the Tribal Museum

      

     In Odisha, the Adivasi, or indigenous tribal communities, constitute approximately 22% of the state’s population. These groups have inhabited the region for millennia, preserving cultural traditions and languages that have often remained largely unchanged. However, the Adivasi have faced numerous challenges throughout history. These include displacement from ancestral lands, exploitation of their natural resources without fair compensation, and marginalization within broader Indian society. Colonial policies under British rule and post-independence modernization projects have further disrupted these communities.

     Today, poverty remains widespread among tribal grous, with many facing extremely limited access to education and healthcare. This situation is exacerbated by development projects that have introduced capitalist economic systems into tribal areas without providing the necessary tools for meaningful engagement. Consequently, these initiatives have often resulted in the erosion of ancient traditions, entrenchment of poverty, and further isolation of these communities.

     

     Colonial policies and capitalism have turned tribal groups into squatters on their own land. Hence the embrace of communism the Naxalite insurgency

      

     The Neemola startup is primarily engaging two tribes: the Basu Sabar and Kui. The Basu Sabar are best known for their intricate wall paintings called ikons which depict their gods and daily life. They practice shifting agricultural cultivation and, as a forest-dwelling tribe, have a rich tradition of herbal medicine. The Kui, meanwhile, are highly skilled in sustainable forest management and have a profound connection to the natural world. In the last 200 years, both tribes have faced significant displacement and the gradual erasure of their traditions due to development projects and deforestation.

     

     A Basu Sabar Woman

      

     

     A Kui man

      

     Despite ongoing challenges, it’s clear that these tribes are still closely tied to their surroundings. While some things, like neem oil, have been forgotten or rendered inaccessible due to displacement and modernization, natural medicines continue to play a prominent role in the local culture.

     During our visit, we had the opportunity to chat with two individuals about some of the plants they continue to use today, including:

     Kusuma pit: This oil is produced from the seeds of the Kusuma, or Kendu, fruit. Villagers use it to treat skin conditions, especially those resulting in dry skin. It’s also used topically to relieve join and muscle pain, heal cuts and burns, and as an insect repellent.

     

     A Kusuma tree

      

     Mulla (Jasmine) Flower: Oil derived from the flowers is used to reduce body temperature during the summer, relieve stress, treat certain skin conditions, and cure headaches.

     

     Jasmine flower

      

     Poka Sungha: The entire plant is dried and ground into a powder. The powder is used to treat digestive issues, especially diarrhea and those resulting from intestinal parasites.

     

     Pokha Sungha

      

     Karanja Oil: Extracted from the seeds of the Karanja tree, this oil is used for skin diseases like eczema and is also considered to have anti-inflammatory properties. Villagers use the oil as a natural pesticide in their farms, and may use it topically to protect against bugs.

     

     Karanja oil

      

     Neem leaves and bark: The leaves are ground into a paste and used against skin disorders and clean wounds. They are also used to treat fevers. The bark, meanwhile is used to treat stomach issues and for oral care.

     Our brief conversations only begin to scratch the surface of traditional medicine in Odisha, yet they reveal a wealth of deeply rooted knowledge. This ancestral wisdom helps explain the surprisingly good health outcomes in tribal communities, despite the prevalence of endemic tropical diseases and limited access to Western medicine. A community health worker informed us that plant-derived products, like those mentioned earlier, are already widely used to treat and prevent illnesses such as typhoid, malaria, and filariasis (which made me a bit paranoid – you don’t know they have it until 15 years after infection when you start to develop Elephantiasis). Given the effectiveness of these traditional remedies, there is no doubt that promoting the reintroduction and widespread use of neem oil, among other natural products, will significantly contribute to improving health outcomes in these communities.

     

     Interview with community health worker

      

     

     Meeting with community heath worker and children

      

     Finally, it helps to consider the context in which these practices have evolved.  Tribal communities in Odisha remain quite isolated, geographically and culturally. One person mentioned that extreme traditions like human sacrifice have only recently been abandoned. While I don’t believe this to be true, the mere existence of such claims highlights the deep divide between tribal communities and mainstream Odia society. Even today, many villages are incredibly remote. During our last day in the field, we visited one community that was only accessible by a dense jungle trail. This isolation, while it helps preserve cultural heritage, also presents challenges that are compounded by societal discrimination and the misunderstanding of tribal traditions. These factors aggravate several issues such as: Water scarcity exacerbated by climate change and deforestation; limited access to education, with children often required to walk long distance; and gender discrimination, exemplified by women being forced to sleep with livestock during menstruation. Altogether, the relationship between the tribes’ invaluable traditional knowledge and the pressing need for sustainable development, economic opportunity, and social progress is complex.

     

     JRP staff hiking to remote village

      

     

     Following a resident to his village

      

     

     Stagnant water in the jungle is a breeding ground for mosquitoes

      

     

     The village is located in a beautiful setting

      

     

     The entrance to the village

      

     

     A villager eating water rice – An Ikon is on the wall behind her

      

     

     Sitting in the village. Notice the big bites on my arm

      

     While some tribal communities interviewed in India have expressed a desire for isolation, separation is impossible once contact has been established. We need to recognize that westernization has often worsened outcomes by disregarding indigenous knowledge. Therefore, it’s incumbent on the broader community to redress wrongs, improve services, fight diseases, and create economic opportunities while respecting the tribes. JRP is working toward this balance by addressing immediate needs while honoring the rich cultural and medicinal heritage of Odisha’s tribes.

     Other Miscellaneous Images

     

     Transporting neem seeds after weighing and paying cooperative

      

     

     Wall painting – Apologies for the crooked logo

      

     

     Bosu Sabar women

      

     

     The cutest baby goat

      

     

     Fast cows

      

     

     The rainy season isn’t too rainy yet, but these roads can easily become impassable

155. 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!

156. Neemola is Working!

     1:32 am 3 Comments

     As I sit back in Bhubaneswar, recovering from a short but virulent viral infection, I’m excited to announce that Neemola is working!

     Recently, Surajita and I returned from a weeklong trip to JRP’s field office in Daspalla to check on the progress of the Neemola startup. Given sparse internet and phone connectivity in the region, it’s nearly impossible to monitor progress without being on site.

     The first thing I noticed upon disembarking from our bus from Bhubaneswar was the dramatic improvement in the weather since our last trip. During our previous visit, the combined intensity of unmitigated sunlight, heat, and humidity had made our work outdoors unbearable. The monsoon season, however, has brought consistent cloud cover and cooler temperatures, making the overall climate slightly more humane.

     

     The monsoon has brought clouds and cooler temperatures

      

     To be honest, we didn’t know what to expect upon arrival. Were women collecting neem seeds? How strong was the buy-in? Was this going to work?

     To our delight, everything seems to be on track!

     While exploring the backroads of tribal Daspalla to recruit more participants, we encountered two women collecting neem seeds along the roadside for the startup. They had been working for several hours and had already gathered approximately 6-7 kilos between them. During our conversation, we also joined in the collection efforts!

     

     A women with neem seeds

      

     

     A woman picking neem seeds

      

     

     Biswajit climed a tree to help with the collection efforts

      

     This was a good omen: neem seed collection was occurring spontaneously without JRP’s supervision. Given this positive development, we decided to visit a couple villages where women-led cooperatives had already signed on to join the startup. To our delight, a lot of progress has been made in just the last two to three weeks.

     Between the two villages, approximately 100 kg of neem seeds have already been collected and dried. JRP provided a total remuneration of 5,000 rupees for this quantity. While this sum—equivalent to just under $60—may seem modest, it can have a significant impact in rural areas lacking economic opportunities. As the startup continues to grow, this initiative has the potential to address funding gaps for children’s education and emergency medical expenses.

     

     A woman carries over neem seeds to be weighed

      

     

     Weighing neem seeds with a one kilo weight

      

     

     Watching the process of weighing neem seeds

      

     

     Payment to women’s collective

      

     I am thrilled with the progress made thus far in Daspalla. While the actual processing of neem seeds into oil won’t commence until September, the smooth start of the project is highly encouraging. Although it’s premature to predict the outcome of the processing stage, the current momentum bodes well for the initiative’s future success!

      

157. Experiences of Conscription: Choosing to stay in Myanmar for family

     July 8, 2024 8:20 am 4 Comments

     My last post was about what it means for young people’s careers to escape across the border to avoid conscription. As I interviewed people still in Myanmar, however, they shared other reasons for staying, one of which struck me particularly deeply: family.

     Some have painfully chosen to cut ties with family for mutual protection, and others have stayed as long as they can, living in constant fear of having to abandon their family. “Aung” falls into the second category.

     The 34-year-old farmer is already on the Zoom call when I join, sitting under a tree in a picturesque field and chatting with Lili, one of my PYO coworkers who has set up this call. As the others in the Chiang Mai office hear his voice, I see them jump up to crowd Lili’s camera and say hi. I can’t help but to smile and laugh with them at this excited reception and Aung’s contagious smile (even though I still only understand 3 words of Pa-O). When Khun Oo joins to begin the interview, the others reluctantly go back to their work, but Khun Oo and Aung still take a moment to chat sociably. 

     Aung begins by telling us that he is on the conscription list and will be called up to report for training any day now. As a result, he is living in perpetual uncertainty. He lives in Southern Shan State and explains that in his village, conscription is being implemented by one of the militia groups that is allied with the military: Pa-O National Army (the armed wing of the Pa-O National Organization, known for consistently committing human rights abuses).

     Aung tells us that his village is nearly empty of men 18-40 years old; they have all either already fled or been conscripted. He has been notified that he will be assigned to training soon but will only find out day-of. When we ask what he plans to do when he is called up, he replies with a smile: he’ll run. He doesn’t want to fight.

     He had planned to go to Thailand after the coup, but he says he didn’t because of his family. It wasn’t possible to travel with so many people, particularly his young children. Most of the other men in his village who have gone to Thailand left without their families, hoping to get a job and accommodation figured out first. With the wave of conscription refugees and others fleeing the war, however, finding work and stability in Thailand has proven to be exceedingly difficult, and many of the families are still in their village.

     Aung has seen how difficult this situation is for the families left behind. He explains that in his community, men are the head of house and main providers for their families. So, when a man leaves, not only does it impact his family emotionally, but also their security and social standing. Many feel unsafe and face criticism from other community members.

     When Aung thinks of putting his wife and 3 young children in that position, tears come to his normally smiling eyes, and he looks away. He says he doesn’t even want to think about the feeling of leaving his family, and I can feel the pain in his words, even without the translation: life without his family would be a worst-case scenario. And yet, it is looming. 

     Aung says that these days he’s living day-by-day, focusing on survival and farming. He has an arrangement with a friend to take over the farm and split the income with his family when he finally does have to flee. But he says he hasn’t planned further than that. When I ask about his hope for the future, he says he doesn’t have space to think into the future beyond the next day, let alone a future for his family beyond the conflict.

     Aung says he’s just a farmer, living among normal people, but he can’t see who is benefitting from the current situation. The military is losing its little legitimacy by forcing people to join who then run away or refuse orders, but normal people are losing, too – life and friends. “So who is winning?” he asks, eyes still shining.

     The name of the interviewee has been changed to preserve confidentiality.

     

     Aung’s bean and corn farm is in the hills of Southern Shan state, pictured here. Aung tells us that there’s lots of farm work to be done this rainy season, and this year the work is extra challenging because so much of the labour force has left.
     Photo credit: Yarzaryeni, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

158. WASH at Kulu Opal: Sweat Equity in Action

     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

159. 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!

160. Resource Advocacy in Baringo County

     July 4, 2024 9:54 am 2 Comments

     Following two incredible weeks on the road, I have much to report!

     The CPI team has led two “resource advocacy” workshops and four “fora peace outreach” camps, divided evenly between IlChamus and Pokot communities. This post is dedicated to the resource advocacy workshops, and the following to fora outreach camps.

     First, some context. CPI has engineered a highly localized model to address the resource needs of tribal communities in northwest Kenya, informed by the economic and political context of the specific county (in this case, Baringo County). The term “resources” can mean many different things, but for this workshop, it refers to the following: healthcare resources (water boreholes, hospitals, dispensaries); education resources (schools); security resources (police stations and new roads connecting them); agriculture resources (pipes for irrigation), and the like.

     In the two multi-day workshops held in Sirata (IlChamus) and Komolion (Pokot) sublocations, CPI began by explaining how the tax system works in Kenya, and how county officials unfortunately often do not deliver on the resource needs of these groups (thus contributing to further marginalization). We explained how VAT is making basic goods like sugar expensive, and that governing institutions are accused of diverting tax payer money–at the expense of funding development projects. At the county level, county government officials do come to the sublocations to meet with constituents and hear their needs; however, this often amounts to overpromising and underdelivering. Seen by the participants’ attentiveness, inquisitiveness, and comments, it was clear this “basic” civic education was new information for many.

     We also discussed development projects in their sublocations that the government has either promised or started, but not completed or begun at all.

     The CPI team divided the participants into small groups and asked them to map out the resources present in their village. They used mugs to represent churches; stones to represent dispensaries, water bottles for schools, sticks for cattle dips, etc. This interactive activity allowed participants to take a holistic look at what they have, and what is lacking.

     

     Sirata community member Salim explains the Sirata Resource Map to the CPI team

     Then, the groups reconvened into plenary and discussed the overall resource needs based on their findings. They engaged in an extensive voting system by using the “Pairwise Ranking” method to fairly rank the priorities. Not unexpectedly, the Pokot and IlChamus identified slightly different priority areas. For example, the IlChamus identifed security as priority #1, while the Pokot said healthcare. This makes sense, seeing as the IlChamus are more vulnerable to attacks, whereas the Pokot live further into the bush away from such facilities.

     

     Discussing the challenges of agriculture in Kiserian and potential solutions

     Next came my favorite part of the workshop, where participants discussed the top three priority areas and identified the issues, causes, coping mechanisms, strategic solutions, and potential sources of support. I was amazed at the solutions that they already implement to combat these challenges. For example, IlChamus in Sirata cope with lack of clean water by treating it with locally available plants and waterguard. The Pokot in Komolion sell aloe vera, firewood, and (unfortunately) water to provide alternative sources of income. Reflecting on these examples, I am reminded that outsiders should never underestimate the knowledge and creativity of individuals facing marginalization or poverty.

     

         Sirata Resource Priorities

     
     With the resource needs and priorities established, the chiefs were tasked with identifying a small group of participants to serve as the sublocation’s “resource advocacy committee,” responsible for advocating their priority needs to the county government. They now know that if the community does not follow up, the projects will unlikely be completed. This month, Baringo government officials will visit Sirata, and I look forward to hearing how the Sirata resource advocacy group takes initiative.

161. 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.

162. Experiences of Conscription: Abandoning careers for safety and uncertainty

     5:50 am 3 Comments

     I recently, grudgingly, started preparing for my job search, making lists of organizations, positions, and locations I might be interested in after graduation in December. In the past week we have begun interviewing other young people also on the job market but for reasons that sobered my perspective on the chore: they have left their established jobs and lives in Myanmar to escape conscription.

     Nearing 10:30PM, Nan San and I join our final interview of the day on Facebook Messenger. We are greeted by a young man in glasses and a collared shirt, neatly buttoned all the way up. He smiles warmly from his room in Bangkok, happy to share his story despite the late hour.

     “Min” tells us in a gentle voice, matching his appearance and profession, that up until 2 months ago, he was working as a dentist in Myanmar with plans to open his own clinic. He explains that he was happy to be doing important work in his home in Southern Shan State. After the coup he had figured that since he wasn’t blacklisted and was working at a private clinic, he could continue his career at home. Even after the conscription law was announced in February, he says he held out hope that he could stay because he knew that fleeing abroad would mean abandoning his career for the foreseeable future.

     Although Min has completed his university degree and has a dental license, he doesn’t have his official diploma or transcript from his university. As a part of the Civil Disobedience Movement (CDM), medical doctors at the universities have suspended issuing certificates. Unfortunately, for people like Min, this means he has no proof of his qualifications beyond a high school diploma. He smiles at the absurdity of this documentation issue when so many others are missing visas and passports.

     Min tells us that he stayed at his clinic as long as he could, but by April, nearly all the other eligible young men from his town had left. This guaranteed that he was on the draft list and would inevitably be conscripted; it was just a matter of time. With a heavy heart, Min decided that it was time to go.

     He had a passport and planned to leave during the Water Festival in mid-April. Travel would be more common during the holiday, so even though flight prices were marked up, the premium would be worth the lessened security and scrutiny from officials.

     Upon arrival in Thailand, he received a 2-week tourist visa. But Min tells us, with some exasperation, that he has since had to make multiple trips to Laos to extend the tourist visa and then to transfer to an education visa. These processes used to be easy, he says, but because of the flood of conscription refugees, Thailand has tightened the rules for Burmese citizens.

     Even with the visas sorted, Min is now struggling to make ends meet. He tells us that he is currently living off of his dwindling savings and is looking for a job, despite not being allowed to work on an education visa.

     As he describes his own challenging living situation, though, he brings up the young people living in the jungle and fighting in the war. He firmly states that, compared to them, his life seems easy. He jumps in to add that even though he stayed in Myanmar for a long time, he doesn’t agree with the coup, and now that he is in Thailand, he wants to find ways to support the resistance from here.

     Min tells us that he thinks the situation will get worse before it gets better. But he still hopes to open his own clinic some day and unenthusiastically considers the question of retraining, telling us that this would mean starting from scratch for him, from a high school diploma. As a fellow 26-year-old, I would do all I could to avoid that too.

     While Min’s story is far from the most dramatic we have heard, his fear and hopelessness at losing his career and starting over resonates with me and demonstrates how much Myanmar’s society is losing by sending its workforce to war against each other.

     The name of the interviewee has been changed to preserve confidentiality.

     

     I can’t take photos of the interviewees for confidentiality reasons, but here’s a photo from a hybrid storytelling workshop I conducted last week!

163. 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.

164. 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.”

165. 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.

166. 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.

     

167. 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.

168. 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.

169. 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!

170. Conscription in Myanmar: A desperate solution for the military that people are desperately fleeing

     June 19, 2024 11:00 pm 6 Comments

     When I was 17, I received a letter from the Norwegian military requiring me to complete the first step of my compulsory military service. All this entailed was filling out a survey including questions about my physical activity and health, academic standing, and motivation to join the military for førstegangstjeneste. Given the large pool of candidates (my year was the first to include women), this survey was used to select those who would serve. 

     Already in the midst of planning my travel and studies for the next year, never did it cross my mind to consider what would happen if the Norwegian military would not accept my “0/10” desire to participate in the military, if it had not even allowed me the chance to express that desire, or if we had been at war. As I have worked with PYO to figure out how to best support vulnerable populations in Myanmar, I have been confronted with these questions and a deeper consideration of the right to refuse to fight.

     On February 10, the Burmese military (aka SAC, the State Administration Council) announced that it was enacting the country’s conscription law and would begin drafting the first batch of 5,000 young men in March. The SAC followed up the announcement with a campaign, including rallies and pro-junta propaganda, to attract new ranks and boost the troops’ plummeting morale after months of losing ground to resistance fighters.

     Myanmar’s conscription law requires men aged 18-35 and women 18-27 to serve for at least 2-7 years, and evasion is punishable by 3-5 years imprisonment and fines. The SAC announced that it would draft 4 batches of 5,000 men before conscripting women in the fifth group, and in April, it claimed that over 10,000 people had already enlisted voluntarily. Evidence of forced recruitment methods and changes in the SAC’s plan to now draft women in batch 3, however, indicate that the campaign has been far from successful. In fact, HURFOM estimates that under 5% of conscripts are volunteers.

     

     The jungle around Chiang Mai, similar to the jungle people trek through to cross the border

     Those with means began applying to study and work abroad; two days after the campaign started, two people were killed in a stampede at the Mandalay passport office.  After the SAC banned men from leaving the country for work in May, however, growing numbers have sought to escape by illegal means, frequently by crossing the Thai border. Some see no choice but to pick up arms – just not those of the junta – and have joined resistance groups who have welcomed them. Some resistance groups have even pursued their own forced recruitment, both in competition with the military and, among allies, to support it.

     Not everyone can leave so easily, though, and many fear the consequences of doing so. The SAC’s methods of recruitment include both carrot and stick beyond the law. They have advertised offers of job security and pay while also threatening to “beat to death” those who refused to join and “drive away like dogs” the families of those who flee.

     The conscription campaign has also had ripple effects across the society and economy. It has increased internal conflict between administrators and resistance groups who have threatened anyone fulfilling orders relating to conscription, already resulting in several deaths. The military has strategically targeted areas with existing ethnic tension and vulnerability, notably the Rohingya in Rakhine state. Even in the military-controlled areas, the exodus of young people has created labor shortages, further exacerbating labor exploitation and filling gaps with child labor.

     These effects are expansive, and demand a wide range of actions – not least from the international community, as this Diplomat article calls for. As a result, PYO and other CSOs are focusing on sharing information regarding forced recruitment and displacement, providing aid to IDPs, and supporting safehouses near the Thai-Myanmar border.

     In the coming weeks, I will be supporting this work by interviewing people who have escaped conscription by coming to Thailand. We aim to compile a report detailing these individuals’ experiences and the effects of conscription to increase pressure on the junta and inform the international community. As we conduct this project, I will delve deeper into some of these issues in my blog posts, so stay tuned to learn more about conscription and the experiences and perspectives of young people.

     

     A T-shirt-turned-poster for the office from Lose and Hope, the Karenni film from my last post

171. Ram’s June 12 2024 Statement to the UN Security Council

     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

172. 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

173. Fitting the Part

     June 18, 2024 6:55 am 4 Comments

     In this first three weeks of being in Kenya, I have lived in four different places. These include Kirinyaga, Nanyuki, Ongata Rongai (outside of Nairobi), and Kileleshwa (in Nairobi). My fellowship is about studying pastoralists, and I feel like I am fitting the part.

     Currently, I am on the way to my fifth destination—Tangulbei location, Chepkalacha village, Baringo County—where we will hold our first children’s peace camp of the summer! For the next four days, we’ll convene students, teachers, reverends, chiefs, and “peace ambassadors” from the IlChamus and Pokot tribes at a local Pokot school. We’ll facilitate a series of kid-friendly teambuilding activities for the students where, maybe for the first time, they will engage with children from the other respective tribe. En route to Chepkalacha, Monica and I sat in the front seat of CPI’s land cruiser and she gave me insights into the local culture. In fact, since arriving I have learned the most in bits—usually in conversations with Monica or Purity. In other internships, I would expect to learn from a formal orientation; at CPI, I learn through observation and chatting.

     Comparing the Pokot and IlChamus in broad strokes, the Pokot are the aggressors in terms of instigating violence or cattle raids, while the IlChamus are the victims. Monica explained, “the Ilchamus know what the gunshots sound like and who they are coming from (the Pokot).” This is partly because Chepkalacha (where the Pokot live) has less abundant resources than the IlChamus in Kiserian, close to Lake Baringo. Interestingly, the Pokots reside in the “bush,” off the main road and far from the main drag, making it challenging for potential aggressors to find them.

     

     CPI team en route to Chepkalacha!

     We drove by a group of young girls whose heads were shaven. To my surprise, this means that they are students. Girls who go to school shave their heads, and girls who are not in school (either their family can’t afford it, or they have other responsibilities) keep their hair. This is because if you are a female student, you should be focused on your studies, not your appearance. Then, we passed by a young girl who had her hair and was followed by a group of goats. She couldn’t have been more than 10 years old. Evidently, instead of being in school, she was chosen by her family to herd cattle. As I learned, parents decide which of their children to herd their cattle based on how responsible they are. You would think that children deemed most responsible would be sent off to school to learn and flourish academically. Instead, their diligence is utilized to keep the family’s cattle healthy and plentiful. This is an example of how cattle come above all else.

     My first activity after putting my bags down in my room at the Catholic mission was going into town to help Mama Chadi buy shoes for peace camp. The main drag had about ten small shops. We walked by one of the few shops selling refrigerated sodas and water. I opened the fridge to find the last plastic bottle of water. It was half empty.

     

     Tangulbei Water Resource Users Association in Chepkalacha

     Walking back to the Mission, I asked Mama Chadi if she would call this community “poor.” She said no; they simply have a different interpretation of wealth. In urban cities, wealth is shown by tall buildings, nice cars, and fancy storefronts. Here, wealth is based on how many goats you have. A man could live in a tiny tin-roof shack or hut and never have heard of Nairobi; but if he has more goats than the other men, then he is rich.

174. 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.

      

      

175. 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.

176. 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.

      

     

     *

177. 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.

178. Film Screening: Lose and Hope

     June 12, 2024 11:13 pm 6 Comments

     I always forget how different the experience of watching a film with a big group of strangers is from watching something individually or even with a group of people you know. On Sunday, I found this difference to be even clearer when the group of strangers had a completely different collective experience and culture from mine.

     On the recommendation of Nan San and Khun Oo, I went to a screening of Lose and Hope, a film about a group of young Karenni resistance fighters from Kayah State, also known as Karenni State in East Myanmar. Having missed the session for foreigners and Thai people earlier in the day, I briefly looked into the topic and watched the trailer, nervous that I wouldn’t understand the context or events of the film. As it turned out, watching the film (with English subtitles, thankfully!) in a room overflowing with members of the Burmese community of Chiang Mai provided an additional layer of understanding I would have missed with a different audience, namely the humor and community resilience.

     

     Film poster for Lose and Hope screening

     The film tells the story of a group of young Karenni people turned resistance fighters. It starts with them learning to fight, training to face the military junta who have derailed the country’s hopes of progress toward peace and democracy with the 2021 coup. The film follows the youths’ experiences on and off the battlefield, including love stories, grappling with grief, and the struggle to keep hope for the end of the revolution. In doing so, the film expresses the urgency of supporting the revolution and bringing the war to an end. It highlights that the people fighting this war on the front lines are youth – both in the resistance and the military; they are uncertain of how long they will survive and are unable to live normal lives until the war is over (pointedly expressed in the film’s song).

     At the same time, the film still manages to find and create humor, both for the audience and the characters. As Nan San and Khun Oo explained to me on my first day here, humor is how their communities cope – it is a sign of resilience.

     I come from cultures where war and pretty much any political topic is meant to be serious. It’s a sign of respect not to laugh or make light of these “serious” issues. And, even though I enjoy political comedy, the aversion to smiling or laughing at such issues is still ingrained in me. So, had I been a part of a different audience, I likely would not have laughed at the scene of a trainee who, mid-shower when a fighter-jet attacks the camp, slips and slides down a muddy hill while trying to put his pants on to join the fight, or when a couple snipers pause to consider whether or not to take their shoes off as they break into an abandoned building to shoot from the roof.

     Far from lessening the horror at scenes of combat and death, the contrast between the room full of laughter and collective silence made the grief even more tangible. In fact, this experience made the war real to me in a new and horrifying way. Although I’ve been reading and hearing about it, the numbers and statistics were brought to life by the film’s depiction of the battlefield – messy, indiscriminate, and brutal – and by the audience, including the woman I heard crying in a bathroom stall after the film and the man beside me who looked down during each scene of violence.

     And yet, after watching the film, when I was sitting in the courtyard outside the screening room with Nan San, Khun Oo, and their friends eating a Burmese pork dish, the question Nan San asked me with most concern was whether I got the jokes in the film, and she appeared relieved to hear that I had. Watching this film with my hosts and members of the Myanmar community, I found that the community demonstrates its strength and resilience by embracing and sharing both grief and humor.

179. First Impressions: A Warm Introduction, an Impromptu Speech, and Searing Temperatures

     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.

180. 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!

181. 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.

182. 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!

183. How a Military Coup Helped Build Solidarity

     1:11 am 3 Comments

     This is a bit of a longer post, but I wanted to try to give a brief overview of the context of Myanmar’s current conflict. It is by no means comprehensive, so if you have any points or thoughts to add, please do share in the comments. Alternatively, if you want to learn more, feel free to explore the resources I’ve listed at the end or comment with your own!

     When I first arrived in Chiang Mai, one of my hosts, Nan San, graciously took me in as I looked for my own place. At that point, my body-clock was so confused by the 30 hours of travel and 11-hour time difference that I had no sense of when to go to sleep, so she and I talked every night for hours, mostly about Myanmar’s conflict and history.

     

     One of the delicious Shan meals Nan San cooked for us

     Although many of the details were lost to my addled brain, one point from our first discussion firmly stuck with me and has come up in almost every other meeting, conversation, podcast, and article I’ve engaged with since: while Myanmar has experienced decades of conflict and military rule, the current conflict is different and offers hope for lasting change.

     As Nan San explained to me while we sat in pajamas at her dining room table with the air-con buzzing in the background, there have been two distinct movements in Myanmar: one for democracy, primarily driven by the ethnic majority, and one for equality, primarily driven by ethnic minorities. “This is a turning point because the majority ethnic group is seeing the oppression of the minorities and experiencing oppression at the hands of the Bamar military themselves.”

     

     Map of Myanmar
     Retrieved from Minoletti, La Ring, & Bjarnegård (2020)

     Myanmar’s population is estimated at about 57 million people, and it officially includes 135 ethnic groups. The Burmese majority, also known as Bamar, make up about 68% of the population and mainly live in the central regions, whereas the ethnic minorities are primarily based in the surrounding states: Rakhine, Chin, Kachin, Shan, Kayah, Kayin, and Mon. The Pa-O – the group I am primarily working with – are based in southern Shan State, which borders Thailand and boasts a variety of other minority groups.

     Conflict has persisted in these diverse states since the country’s independence. In some cases, the fighting is a continuation of a battle for self-determination pre-dating independence, and in other cases, it is a response to oppression. To dominate the ethnic minorities, maintain control over the border areas, and access natural resources, among other reasons, Myanmar’s regimes have carried out human rights abuses in these states for decades. These abuses include extrajudicial killings, forced labor, torture, and land confiscation. Such abuses have taken place since the country’s independence, not only under the military juntas but also under the democratically-elected government in the late 2010s.

     Historical Overview

     Myanmar regained independence from Britain in 1948 and started out – at least nominally – as a tenuous parliamentary democracy. In 1962, however, the military, led by General Ne Win, staged a coup, after which military juntas officially held power until 2011. Those decades saw both a growth in ethnic resistance groups (known as Ethnic Armed Organizations, or EAOs) in response to their oppression and exploitation as well as multiple democracy campaigns, two of which led to regime changes.

     In 1988, a wave of protests known as the “8888 Uprising” swept across Myanmar. Triggered by a student movement and responding to erratic economic conditions, corruption, and food shortages, the movement peaked on August 8, earning its name. It was, however, met with a brutal crackdown, in which at least 3000 people were killed and thousands more were displaced.

     General Ne Win did, however, end up stepping down, and a new military junta took over, changing the country’s name from “Burma” to “Myanmar,” moving the capital, and arranging an election in 1990. Although the opposition party, the National League for Democracy (NLD), won with 81% of votes, and their leader, Aung San Suu Kyi, earned a Nobel Peace Prize for her non-violent efforts at building democracy, the military junta ignored the results and continued to rule until the 2007 Saffron Revolution.

     In 2007, facing widespread anti-government protests and increasing international pressure, the junta began to loosen controls and instituted a new constitution in 2008. This constitution remains in place today and gives the military expansive powers even under civilian rule. So, even following the junta’s official dissolution in 2011, the military maintained substantial control.

     After a series of gradual reforms during a transitional period from 2011 to 2015, Myanmar held its first nationwide, multiparty elections in 2015 for a unitary government. The NLD won in a landslide again, and Suu Kyi became the de facto leader of the civilian government. The military retained significant control, however, and continued to oppress ethnic minorities, to the extent that it was accused of committing genocide against the Rohingya in 2016 and 2017. The civilian government denied these allegations and essentially turned a blind eye to the human rights abuses and fighting occurring in the border states.

     Consequently, from many ethnic minority perspectives, even though Myanmar had a form of democracy, the democratic government model failed to represent and serve them. This failure was a result of both the military’s continued dominance and a lack of representation of minorities in the unitary government system; the NLD, composed of members of the ethnic majority, did not have to concern itself with minority constituents to ensure success in future elections because of the majority-rules system. Furthermore, many Bamar did not know of or believe the extent of the human rights abuses occurring in the border states. The coup, however, has helped to change this mentality.

     Building Understanding Since the Coup

     

     Nan San and Khun Oo at Angkaew Resevoir in Chiang Mai

     After another landslide NLD victory in the 2020 election, the military staged a coup in February, 2021. The people responded with massive protests and strikes, and when the military reacted with force, many Bamar people fled to the border states. My hosts, Nan San and Khun Oo, told me a story about one of these people arriving to a town in Shan State. He had just seen multiple people killed and escaped the fighting when he arrived at this town where people were celebrating a holiday. He was shocked and asked how they could be celebrating when these horrors were taking place. The people in the village replied, “this is how it always is; we have to keep living somehow.”

     Interactions like these have built a new degree of understanding and solidarity across ethnic divides, leading to collaboration among many EAOs and newly formed People’s Defense Forces (PDFs, armed groups formed by the Bamar majority). Additionally, the ousted NLD elected lawmakers have worked with several minority groups to establish a government-in-exile, known as the National Unity Government (NUG), which has declared war on the junta and is collaborating with many minority organizations.

     Solidarity and understanding has been built both regarding the immediate threat of the military junta and, to some extent, the ultimate goal of a representative federal democracy. But, as Nan San explained to me in her living room last week, even when federal democracy is the agreed-upon goal, the questions of which variety of federalism, the degree of centralization, and how to get there are fiercely debated across the board.

     Sources & Resources:

     • Insight Myanmar podcast: Call it a Revolution (for more episodes: https://insightmyanmar.org/podcasts)
     • Minority Rights Groups: Myanmar Profile
     • Council on Foreign Relations article: Myanmar’s Troubled History: Coups, Military Rule, and Ethnic Conflict
     • Asia Foundation: Myanmar Timeline
     • 2004 NRC Report 
     • Article in Critical Asian Studies: Myanmar’s military coup and the elevation of the minority agenda?
     • USIP article: Nine Things to Know About Myanmar’s Conflict Three Years On

184. 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!

185. 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

186. Karibu Kenya!

     May 30, 2024 6:24 am 5 Comments

     The first 40 hours were an adventure, and I love a good adventure.

     After my journey from Boston to Nairobi, I arrived at the Franciscan Family Center around 1am Thursday and fell asleep to the crickets, a familiar and peaceful sound for me. I didn’t realize that my new confidant Monica knows Spanish, so I was pleasantly surprised when she Whatsapp’d me “Estás aquí?” Her Spanish is much better than my Swahili (for now)!

     The next day, Monica and her significant other Gibson kindly invited me to a delicious tilapia and ugali lunch. Even more, they patiently waited a wondrous hour and a half at the Safaricom as I was getting my e-sim card installed. Let’s just say that configuring SIM cards is not my strong suit, so I insisted we take pictures to commemorate this milestone.

     

     Success! I now have a local Kenyan phone number!

     Since then, I have taken my first local minibus to the Kagumo village, listened to Kenyan news with Monica’s mother (“Mama Monica”), ridden a few boda-boda’s (motorcycles), and been greeted as a “mzungu!” (white person) by more Kagumo residents than I can count.

     I have several expectations as I prepare to begin my fellowship at Children’s Peace Initiative – Kenya (CPIK). I expect from myself to bring an open mind and inquisitive perspective every day to the office. I am excited to utilize my outside knowledge of conflict between East African pastoralist communities and from reviewing the findings of former peace fellow Julia during her fellowship in 2022. I’m even more excited to have this prior knowledge be challenged or even disproven, based on conversations I have with warriors and elders in the field this summer.

     

     Grains & veggies in Kagumo

     I recognize the assumptions that Westerners (myself
     included) are quick to make about rural African groups and their ways of life; however, a community’s perception of wealth, livelihood, and wellbeing is subjective, informed by personal experience. Prioritizing these personal outlooks is paramount as I navigate future conversations and perhaps design programming that truly and sustainably furthers CPI’s goals.
     

     I have a number of intentions for the summer. One skill I hope to improve upon is taking due time to evaluate potential program objectives and decisions, rather than rushing into action and compromising efficacy. Along the same lines, I aim to set achievable goals alongside the team— clearly laying out steps to achieve these goals. I plan to learn from mistakes and setbacks that may occur this summer. Finally, I am eager to immerse myself in the local culture and norms—whether that is taking boda-boda’s after sundown to reunite with Mama Monica or participating in a local church service in Baringo County. Although I am Jewish, I am very familiar with the customs of Christianity, having attended an Episcopalian school for 15 years.

     

     Monica’s sister “Mama Shadi” and her children Claudia and Angelica pose outside of Mama Monica’s home

     Finally, I am excited to live with Monica and Purity this summer. I have lived by myself for the past 2 years but am thrilled to fill my time at home with these two lovely women.

187. 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.

188. Karibu Kenya!

     8:37 am Leave a Comment

     The past 40 hours have been an adventure, and I love a good adventure.

     After my journey from Boston to Nairobi, I arrived at the Franciscan Family Center around 1am Thursday and fell asleep to the crickets, a familiar and peaceful sound for me. I didn’t realize that my new confidant Monica knows Spanish, so I was pleasantly surprised when she Whatsapp’d me “Estás aquí?” Her Spanish is much better than my Swahili (for now)!

     The next day, Monica and her significant other Gibson kindly invited me to a delicious tilapia and ugali lunch. Even more, they patiently waited a wondrous hour and a half at the Safaricom as I was getting my e-sim card installed. Let’s just say that configuring SIM cards is not my strong suit, so I insisted we take pictures to commemorate this milestone.

     Since then, I have taken my first local minibus to the Kagumo village, listened to Kenyan news with Monica’s mother (“Mama Monica”), ridden a few boda-boda’s (motorcycles), and been greeted as a “mzungu!” (white person) by more Kagumo residents than I can count.

     I have several expectations as I prepare to begin my fellowship at Children’s Peace Initiative – Kenya (CPIK). I expect from myself to bring an open mind and inquisitive perspective every day to the office. I am excited to utilize my outside knowledge of conflict between East African pastoralist communities and from reviewing the findings of former peace fellow Julia during her fellowship in 2022. I’m even more excited to have this prior knowledge be challenged or even disproven, based on conversations I have with warriors and elders in the field this summer.

     I recognize the assumptions that Westerners (myself included) are quick to make about rural African groups and their ways of life; however, a community’s perception of wealth, livelihood, and wellbeing is subjective, informed by personal experience. Prioritizing these personal outlooks is paramount as I navigate future conversations and perhaps design programming that truly and sustainably furthers CPI’s goals.

     I have a number of intentions for the summer. One skill I hope to improve upon is taking due time to evaluate potential program objectives and decisions, rather than rushing into action and compromising efficacy. Along the same lines, I aim to set achievable goals alongside the team— clearly laying out steps to achieve these goals. I plan to learn from mistakes and setbacks that may occur this summer. Finally, I am eager to immerse myself in the local culture and norms—whether that is taking boda-boda’s after sundown to reunite with Mama Monica or participating in a local church service in Baringo County. Although I am Jewish, I am very familiar with the customs of Christianity, having attended an Episcopalian school for 15 years.

     Finally, I am excited to live with Monica and Purity this summer. I have lived by myself for the past 2 years but am thrilled to fill my time at home with these two lovely women.

189. A Conflict Outside the Spotlight

     5:44 am 3 Comments

     Last week I attended four university graduation ceremonies in the US with my family. At each ceremony, speakers recognized the ongoing conflicts in Gaza and Ukraine, and many students protested the US position on Gaza. I was moved by these protests and the risks that the students were taking, and I was relieved that the speakers at least referenced these conflicts. As my family left one of the ceremonies, however, my stepmom erupted in frustration, “Why do they only recognize conflicts directly involving the West and Global North?”

     She had a point – amidst the calls for divestment and Ukrainian flags, only two students waived the Haitian flag, and there was no mention of others such as Sudan, the Central African Republic (CAR), or Myanmar. Upon reflection, I realized my Conflict Resolution program at Georgetown is a bubble where many of these conflicts are frequent topic of discussion, but even in our specialized bubble, Myanmar is rarely mentioned. Even when I approached my friends working in policy and advocacy, I was warned that the conflict was too complex to engage with as outsiders.

     During my first 3 days working and living with peacebuilders from Myanmar, I got a glimpse of the breadth of complexities of this conflict – and the conflict is certainly complex and complicated – but I have also seen how committed people are to achieving peace and equality, particularly youth, even after being blacklisted and forced to flee their country.

     Less than 48 hours after stepping off the plane in Chiang Mai, Thailand, I found myself sitting at the corner of a long table in a hotel conference room. Surrounded by pink curtains with gold trim and tassels, resistance leaders, civil society organization members, and researchers from Myanmar’s Shan state passed around a microphone, each sharing their perspective on the current situation in their country and state. The fact that I do not understand a word of Burmese and only caught occasional English phrases did not lessen my awe at being at the table with people so committed to their home and people.

     Those present were from several of Shan state’s many ethnic groups, and most were leaders of youth and women’s organizations. They spoke with conviction, expertise, and passion of the ways in which they were taking initiative, from conducting peacebuilding workshops, researching social change, and organizing safehouses on the border for young asylum seekers.

     The young people spoke about the needs of their people and country, and everyone at the table listened. This was refreshing after having spent a semester listening to politicians and media belittle students in the US for protesting. It was also a reminder, however, of how deeply the conflict impacts every facet of society, demanding engagement and response of some kind from everyone (recently and notably through mandatory conscription, which I will discuss in a future blog), even when the conflict is on the other side of a border. The various perspectives presented, issues raised, and negotiation of ethnic tensions within the meeting also demonstrated the many layers involved in this conflict, even just with Shan state.

     “Myanmar is a good conflict to study because everything is part of the conflict,” a young activist told me at the meeting. I am beginning to see what she means – Myanmar is a former colony, fraught with internal displacement, ethnic conflict, environmental injustice and degradation, internationally-funded uranium mining, ideological divergence, and a disconnect between democracy and equality struggles, to name just a few. This does not, however, mean that the conflict deserves any less attention or that the state-building efforts and various democracy and civil rights advocates need any less support.

     As I write this blog over the course of my fellowship with Pa-O Youth Organization, I hope to give you, the readers, insight into some of these efforts, the context, and the people working day and night to build peace, so that you too can draw attention to this conflict alongside the others.

     

     I was a little too jet-lagged to remember to snap a photo of the conference meeting, but here is a brainstorming session a couple days later with Pa-O Youth Organization!

      

     

     Angkaew Resevoir in Chiang Mai – the landscape in this area of resembles the landscape of Shan state in Myanmar.

190. The Monsoon is Coming

     May 19, 2024 10:56 pm 3 Comments

     As a seasoned traveler, I don’t approach journeys to far-away places with the same apprehension that I used to. If I can thrive in Zimbabwe, Ghana, Kenya, and Uzbekistan, I could certainly make my way in India. However, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I would encounter problems at the border. Previously, while conducting research for my Watson Fellowship titled Jewish Persistence in the Periphery of the Diaspora, I received two Indian visa rejections and was later told by the Bureau of Immigration that any future applications would be heavily scrutinized. It’s safe to say that I was relieved when I crossed the border without needing to answer a single question.

     Fortunately, the rest of my journey was as uneventful as immigration in New Delhi turned out to be. It was draining, however. I never sleep well on planes, and three night flights combined with a 2am layover in the Delhi airport meant I stayed awake for nearly 72 consecutive hours. Simultaneously too tired to focus and unable to rest, I spent some of my journey reading and even more time staring into space in dimly lit aircraft cabins.

     When I finally stepped out of the Kolkata airport in the early morning sun, the hot, humid, and heavily polluted air was an immediate assault on my already weary body. During my cab ride into the city, it struck me, in my exhausted state, just how vast and bewildering Indian cities can be. Amidst the chaos created by incessant honking, nonexistent traffic laws, street vendors overflowing into the streets, free-roaming animals, and harsh weather conditions, there is beauty and grandeur. Intricately decorated mosques, mandirs, and viharas sit next to colossal colonial buildings, manicured parks, and bustling markets. Against all odds, everything fits together rather seamlessly. The city’s vibrant energy, a blend of old, left me both overwhelmed and captivated.

     

     Kolkata is the only Indian city with a tram network

     

     Street vendors can be found on most major streets in Kolkata

     

     The manicured gardens viewed from the Victoria Memorial

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

     During my first morning in India, wandering the streets aimlessly in the sticky clothes I’d been wearing for the better part of a week while waiting for check-in at my guesthouse, it occurred to me just how lucky I am to be here. I am thankful that The Advocacy Project (AP) and its partner Jeevan Rekha Parishad (JRP) have given me the opportunity to support causes I care deeply about in the land of the Mughals, Gajapati, and Maratha. India is, and will remain, the most populated country for the foreseeable future. What happens here matters.

     Starting in June, I will spend ten weeks with JRP in Odisha. Splitting my time between the capital Bhubaneswar and Daspalla, a town in the interior, I will support two critical projects:

     • The expansion of their highly successful malaria prevention program.

      

     • Contributing to a start-up to help tribal women produce and market Neem oil as a source of income and as protection against malaria.

      

     Upon my arrival in Odisha, the day-to-day responsibilities will become clearer, but I am eager to assist with a variety of tasks. These may include acquiring mosquito nets and other preventative equipment at competitive prices, writing grants, organizing training sessions, and marketing the start-up program through community profiles and visual materials. Furthermore, I will capture the start-up’s progress through professional photography and videography. I am especially excited for fieldwork in Daspalla where I will have the opportunity to directly engage, support, and help educate the communities that produce Neem oil.

     Although I have not yet met them in person, the competence, passion, and drive of my future colleagues at JRP is more than evident. I am confident that our collaboration will be fruitful, and look forward to promoting economic development while lending a hand in the fight against one of the world’s deadliest diseases. I also know the work will be difficult. With temperatures that can soar as high 118 degrees, little English comprehension in tribal areas, and uncertain funding streams, success will require resilience and grit. I don’t expect to change the world in one summer, but I will be happy if I can shed light on this crucial work, help fund it, and build long-term working relationships. Fortunately, my early arrival in the subcontinent will give me some time to adjust and prepare.

     Today is May 18^th. My fellowship begins June 3^rd. In the interim, I will join some of my classmates from Harvard in the last Shangri La: Bhutan. Before I settle into the steamy lowlands of Odisha, I plan to stock up on fresh air, attend a meeting with the Honourable Prime Minister to discuss sustainability and economic development, trek through lush forests and across snowy passes, and decompress from a challenging academic year. When I get to Bhubaneswar, I will be ready for action. With any luck, the monsoon will have arrived by then, bringing cooler temperatures along with it.

191. 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

     *

192. 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

      

     *

193. 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

      

     *

194. 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

195. 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.

196. 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.

      

     

197. 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!

      

198. 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. 

199. Quilts Capture the Terror and Heroism of COVID-19

     October 4, 2023 1:16 pm Leave a Comment

     Quilts Capture the Terror and Heroism of COVID-19

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

200. 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.

201. 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.”

202. 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.

203. Witchcraft and Malaria

     August 31, 2023 8:42 am Leave a Comment

     

      

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

204. Bringing Green into the Settlements and Vice Versa

     August 12, 2023 2:22 pm Leave a Comment

     In Nairobi’s informal settlements, arable land is scarce. Most of Shield of Faith’s project participants use the little land they have available to them to build their kitchen gardens. This often includes carving 5-liter jerry cans into vertical towers to plant spinach and other greens. While these gardens are able to meet approximately 30% of most members’ vegetable needs, other members are forced to go without due to a lack of space.

     This is where Stella’s demo farm comes in.

     Out in Kajiado, about one hour outside Nairobi lies Stella’s plot of land, waiting to be cultivated. While it may not look like much now, with a bit of labor this land presents huge potential. Under Stella’s guidance, Shield of Faith’s ladies will be able to drive out to this farm twice each month to tender and harvest their own crops. This demo farm has the ability to fulfill way more than 30% of members’ vegetable needs; it could fulfill all or almost all of them. As a result, the women would save exponentially on their grocery bills, diverting the money saved to pay for rent or their children’s school fees. 

     Another foreseen benefit of the demo farm is the capacity to grow uncommon yet highly nutritious vegetables that wouldn’t be found elsewhere in Kibera. As mentioned in one of my previous blogs, the project recently ventured into growing Chinese cabbage in one of the project participant’s communal gardens. Although hesitant to try the previously uneaten green, Shield of Faith member Vena was brave enough to take some home with her, and she loved it. By introducing members to new vegetables, the project adds vitamins and nutrients to their diets and those of their families. Also, it makes members more resilient to supply shocks of traditional crops. As I witnessed last weekend on a site visit to Kajiado, developing the demo farm will allow Shield of Faith to scale this approach.

     While my fellowship and time in Nairobi have unfortunately come to an end, visiting the demo farm was a great way to finish my fellowship. As I reflected on the insights I gained from Stella and Shield of Faith’s members over the summer, I was able to visualize the future of this project. Already, each of Shield of Faith’s 20 members acts as an Environmental Ambassador in their community by conveying the benefits of composting and organic gardening to their friends and neighbors. If the women are able to bring more and more organic green vegetables into the settlements, sooner or later, those in positions of power are bound to take notice. 

     

     Stella and Iain at the future demo farm.

205. Working the Newport Oyster & Chowder Festival

     August 2, 2023 8:40 pm Leave a Comment

     As a part of my internship at Clean Ocean Access, I have helped out at a couple of community events as a “Green Team” member to help people sort their waste. On May 21st, I worked at a waste station at the Newport Oyster & Chowder Festival in Bowen’s Wharf.

     This festival in particular was important for COA to be at because over ten thousand people attend it annually and around fifteen thousand oysters are shucked; a recipe for a lot of food waste.

     At the waste stations, there was a recycling bin, landfill bin, compost bin, and a special bin for the oyster shells to be placed in. The oyster bins were to be collected and brought to the Nature Conservancy. From there, they let them curate in the Great Swamp, a wildlife management area in Rhode Island, for six months and then brought back to oyster farms to reuse.

     From the start, the event was packed. People were flooding in and out of the wharf buying food and drinks from vendors. It was hot, loud, and people just wanted to quickly get out of the area once they were done eating.

     People would quickly walk to the waste station I was at and dump everything into one bin before I could even explain to them what to do. Oftentimes, people did not even think I was there to help and they just thought I was a random girl standing next to the trash with gloves on, picking plastic bottles out of the compost bin.

     So, I began to take more charge in front of the waste station, stopping people in their tracks before they could even think about throwing their waste in a bin.

     This was a little more difficult than composting at my school, as we only composted food waste. Here, there were many different things that could go into the compost like cardboard and compostable cups. So, I had to be very specific when I helped people sort their waste. Instead of one quick dump that would only take 5 seconds, it often took people up to 45 seconds to thoroughly dispose of everything properly.

     Some people were aggravated, and composting was the last thing they wanted to do. But others thought it was a great idea and thanked me for being there. Still, the waste was properly sorted and that is all that mattered.

     When my shift was over, I walked out of Bowen’s Wharf and saw endless bins packed full of oyster shells. It was crazy to think that all of these would have been brought to the landfill if we did not help people sort out their waste. It was really cool to help out at this festival and sort waste on a bigger scale compared to my high school.

206. Passions Can Lead to Change

     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.

207. Textiles Are a Woman’s Best Friend

     August 1, 2023 1:50 pm Leave a Comment

     How does one seemingly mundane pillow, rug, or bedspread translate into a family’s meals for the week and a heightened position for women in the household? In Kenya, the significance of the textile industry is seen all throughout the country, from the crowded stalls in Nairobi’s Maasai Markets to the vendors lining streets along the coast. This industry has one of the highest appeals to foreigners visiting Kenya. Oftentimes, when I walk past a textile shop, I find all or almost all employees to be women. Indeed, the textile industry seems to be predominantly made up of women. 

     For women from low-income backgrounds, the textile industry can present more than just a source of employment. It can also present them and their families with resiliency.

     I learned the significance of the textile industry for women’s economic empowerment when I visited the coastal city of Mombasa this past weekend. There, I booked a guided tour, and my tour guide Humphrey took me to the Imani Collective workshop. Humphrey explained to me the purpose of the American-backed project: to empower local female artisans through paid employment and market support. At the entrance, I saw signs with the words “This is empowerment.” Upon entering, I was surprised to see striking similarities between this project and Shield of Faith’s embroidery activities. Despite Mombasa and Nairobi being on opposite ends of the country, separated by a 6-hour long train ride, the ideas behind women’s economic empowerment are the same. There were several looms, where artisans weave cotton yarn into intricate patterns, producing all sorts of gorgeous fabrics. Just one week prior, I visited a woven textile workshop in Nairobi’s Industrial Area with Shield of Faith’s members to gauge opportunities for paid employment.

     

     One of the looms inside the Imani Collective’s workshop in Mombasa.

     

     Shield of Faith’s members at the woven textile workshop in Nairobi.

     Seeing the success of the Imani Collective in Mombasa confirmed the fact that the textile industry does serve as a viable and sustainable source of employment for women. It also allows women to develop their skills and pay off some of their household expenses. Speaking with Shield of Faith’s members at the textile workshop, I learned that some of them have used the money generated from the project’s embroidery activities to pay their children’s school fees or buy beds for themselves and their families. Shield of Faith’s members already have strong embroidery skills. If given the chance to obtain employment in the textile industry, with the opportunities it presents, their potential is unlimited. Shield of Faith understands that. And it’s clear, from visiting the Imani Collective in Mombasa, that others around the world understand it, too.

208. Oh, How I Love Being a Woman

     July 26, 2023 2:00 pm Leave a Comment

     In honor of the Barbie movie coming out last week, I want to take the time to reflect on the power of women.

     This past weekend, I accompanied Stella and Shield of Faith’s members to Nairobi’s Industrial Area, where each woman demonstrated her embroidery skills in the hope of obtaining employment in a textile company. As I sat at the table surrounded by all of these incredible women, I marveled at their sisterhood. Jokingly, a few of the ladies remarked that I was young enough to be their daughter. At that moment, I realized something. I realized that sisterhood and motherhood can coexist in female relationships. And somewhere within that nexus lies the strength to endure all.

     Take Esther for example. Esther, one of Shield of Faith’s members, is simultaneously the most fearless and warm-hearted person I’ve ever met. From the day we met, she asked me to come to her house so she can cook me dinner. Esther lives in Githurai, a settlement 30 minutes northeast of Nairobi CBD. She lives alone with her three daughters, one of whom has albinism. In Kenya, mothers of children with albinism face discrimination within and outside the family. When Ruth’s aptly-named daughter Hope was born, the nurse offered to buy her. People with albinism are sometimes used in harmful rituals, and it’s possible the nurse wanted to capitalize on this seeming “opportunity.” Along with outsiders, Ruth faced discrimination from her husband and in-laws, who wrongly accused her of having an affair with a white man. At the beginning of this year, she used the money she saved up from the composting and embroidery projects to pay rent on an apartment and leave her abusive husband.

     

     Esther and two of her daughters, who were eager to hold the composting worms.

     Unfortunately, Esther’s story is very similar to the other mothers of children with albinism. They’ve all faced many challenges in life, but they’ve found solace in knowing that they aren’t alone in their experiences. The other week, Stella and I were talking about womanhood, and I remember saying that, as women, we naturally bottle things up. When we eventually make the brave choice to open up about our challenges, we often find that others have experienced similar things. Sitting at the table surrounded by all these women, I admired their solidarity, and it reminded me to use my experiences as a bridge connecting me to my fellow sisters rather than as a wall alienating me from my greatest source of strength.

     In terms of Shield of Faith’s activities, the quote on the back of Rehema’s shirt (pictured below) accurately captures our mission: “The goal isn’t women making more money. The goal is more women living their lives on their own terms.”

     

209. 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!

210. Progress Against Plastic

     July 18, 2023 3:45 pm Leave a Comment

     While in the U.S. plastic grocery bags are ubiquitous in almost every household, you won’t find them here in Kenya. In 2017, the Kenyan government banned all single-use plastic carrier bags for retailers. This means that in the local QuickMart, Carrefour, or Foodplus grocery stores, your groceries are bagged in reusable shopping bags, which are sold to you at a small fee. A small price to pay for a big impact.

     Unfortunately, the use of single-use plastic carrier bags did not immediately cease following the ban. According to the Kenyan government’s assessment of compliance, only 80% of individuals complied with the ban in 2019, rising to 95% in 2021. Organizations such as the Kenyan Association of Manufacturers opposed the ban on the grounds that it would eliminate jobs. Even today, you are still able to spot the plastic bags across Nairobi, as I did last Saturday in Kibera.

     In Nairobi’s informal settlements, vendors are able to slip under the radar. A 2019 study found that only 30% of those interviewed in Kibera supported the ban on plastic bags, compared to 60% in the affluent Nairobi suburb of Karen. While conducting site visits to Shield of Faith members’ homes last weekend, Stella, Iain, and I stopped to purchase sugarcane from a local vendor. I was surprised to find that the vendor was using plastic carrier bags, having not seen a plastic bag since I arrived in May. Stella, unfortunately, was not surprised. She commented that bags such as the ones pictured below are often illegally brought into Kenya from neighboring Tanzania. In Kibera and the other informal settlements, these bags often end up strewn along the side of the road or in the massive waste heaps where residents dispose of their household garbage. More action is needed by all stakeholders to eliminate these bags. 

     

     Plastic bags lurk in the corner of the vendor’s cart.

     The improper use and disposal of plastic bags have countless environmental consequences, with one of the most pressing being the consumption of plastic by animals and subsequent contamination of the food supply. Just this year, the Kenyan public interest group Centre for Environment Justice and Development found extremely high levels of persistent organic pollutants (POPs) in chicken eggs, with levels higher than 111 times the EU regulatory amount. Similarly, the body found that a Kenyan adult eating a chicken egg from certain hotspots, including Nairobi’s Ngara Market, “could be exposed to a dose of toxic chemicals that would exceed the EU daily safety limit for more than 250 days.”

     Shield of Faith stands at the forefront of this issue by promoting a culture of recycling and proper waste management in Kibera. Making expert use of 5-litre jerry cans, formerly used to store soap or oil, Stella reuses the containers to create planter boxes and tower gardens for growing fruits and vegetables. In fact, most of Shield of Faith’s members reuse 5-litre jerry cans in their gardens one way or another. With such high demand among Shield of Faith’s 20 members, Stella purchases empty jerry cans from local restaurant owners and housekeepers, thus inviting them into the project as indirect beneficiaries. Gradually, each one of the project’s direct and indirect beneficiaries becomes more conscious of their plastic use and encourages recycling in their own households and those of their neighbors. One restaurant owner in Kibera, Quinter, saves up her jerry cans for Stella to purchase. In the end, Quinter earns a few hundred shillings, Stella gets her jerry cans, and plastic that would have likely been dumped in Kibera’s trash heaps is instead used to grow something beautiful.

     

     Shield of Faith member Vena with her plastic garden.

     

     Project Elimu, an NGO dance center for children in Kibera and one of Shield of Faith’s partners, also gardens with reused plastic jerry cans.

211. The Many Faces of Nairobi’s Informal Settlements

     July 11, 2023 11:52 am 1 Comment

     Few people are familiar with Nairobi, let alone its informal settlements (or “slums,” what have you). For those who do have some knowledge of Nairobi, it’s likely they’ve heard of Kibera. Famously known as the “biggest slum in Africa,” this informal settlement has a population of a quarter of a million people. Its homes are constructed out of sheet metal and mud, and its residents lack any sort of formal rights to their land. Many of these families have been essentially “squatting” on the land for generations. 

     What many people fail to realize, however, is that Nairobi has over 150 informal settlements, all without government services. Kibera, as the settlement with the biggest population, naturally attracts attention from foreign donors. Over 300 NGOs are currently operating in Kibera. 

     Compare this to the informal settlement of Huruma, and the picture is vastly different. Between 2000 and 2020, population density in Huruma increased faster than in Kibera with 766.98 residents per hectare compared to 475.27. The result of this surge in population density is overcrowding in Huruma’s decrepit multi-story cement buildings, where families fill single-room homes with no running water. Arguably, these housing structures are more dangerous than the single-story sheet metal homes constructed in Kibera. In 2016, an apartment building in Huruma collapsed, killing 52 people. The building owner had rented out 100 rooms, even though the government declared the building unfit to live in. This is all to say that in Nairobi’s other informal settlements, living conditions are just as bad, and in some cases even worse. Yet, they fail to attract a fraction of Kibera’s donor attention.

     

     Walking behind Iain and Stella in Huruma.

     Having lived in Huruma for 10 years, Shield of Faith member Ruth occupies a small one-room apartment with her children. On Sunday, Ruth invited me, Stella, and AP’s Executive Director Iain into her home and shared her story with us. Upon entering the building, we each had to turn on our phone flashlights to navigate the dark and narrow stairwell up to the fourth floor. Every day, Ruth walks up and down these stairs carrying 20L containers of water, which she has to purchase for 10 Kenyan shillings, the equivalent of 7 US cents. She admitted that it was a hard life, but she was grateful to us for coming to witness her everyday experience. I will forever be grateful to Ruth and her daughter Sharon for opening their hearts and their home to us.

     

     Ruth (right) showing us the tote bag she made with an original piece of embroidery.

     While not each of Kibera’s 300 NGOs is efficient (I’ve heard complaints that they aren’t), the fact that they’re there says something. These NGOs have the potential to impact the lives of someone like Ruth, but we won’t know until or unless something changes about the NGO landscape across Nairobi’s informal settlements.

212. Diversifying Diets in Kibera

     July 3, 2023 4:35 am 2 Comments

     Before Stella Makena kickstarted Shield of Faith’s gardening and composting project in the Kibera informal settlement, many of the project’s members had never heard of, let alone tasted, Chinese cabbage and strawberries. Today, their gardens are producing these fruits and vegetables in bounty.

     In Kibera, where food insecurity is high, many of the settlement’s residents rely on whatever produce they can afford at the numerous informal produce stands or at Toi Market. In this open-air space, hundreds of vendors compete to sell produce, second-hand clothes, and even furniture. Unfortunately, this market recently suffered from an electrical fire just over three weeks ago. One trader reported to Kenya’s Pulselive media outlet that a little over 3,000 stalls were razed in the fire. Not only did this deeply affect all of the vendors in the market, thus leaving a deep scar on the settlement’s informal economy, but it also meant that those who relied on the market to purchase their fruits and vegetables now had to seek alternative, and sometimes more expensive, sources.

     By providing 20 single mothers from Nairobi’s informal settlements with the equipment and the support needed to grow and harvest their own produce, Shield of Faith helps mitigate the effects of food insecurity on the project’s participants. Also, it introduces the women to new fruits and vegetables, which add different nutrients to their diets and those of their families. As women are often primarily responsible for feeding the children, not only in Kibera but in the world, the addition of nutrient-rich and diversified produce into their households translates into a nutrient-rich diet for their children.

     To illustrate, a few weeks ago Stella and I met with Eunice, one of Shield of Faith’s members, at her residence in Kibera, where she maintains a communal garden for the project. On that day, the three of us harvested several colossal bunches of gorgeous green Chinese cabbage. This was Eunice’s first time growing the crop, and it was an enormous success. As the garden is communal, Stella and I shared the harvest with several of the project’s other members. Living just down the street from Eunice, Vena took home one of the bunches of Chinese cabbage. She was a little hesitant to take some home, at first, because she had never cooked or tasted the vegetable before. However, Stella was quickly able to assuage her worries, and a week later, Vena reported back that she loved the cabbage! Now, Vena, Eunice, and the other ladies have more choices for vegetables, and home-grown vegetables at that. This leaves the women less vulnerable to the market’s volatility.

     

     Stella (left) and Eunice (right) triumphantly holding the massive Chinese cabbages.

     On Friday, Roba, a caretaker of the communal garden and indirect beneficiary of the project, harvested the first of many strawberries in Kibera. Packed with vitamins and nutrients, this little berry is a testament to the project members’ ingenuity, perseverance, and blooming self-reliance. 

     

     Roba with our mighty strawberry!

213. Train Disaster in India Brings Heartache For Poor Families

     June 30, 2023 4:07 am Leave a Comment

     Train Disaster in India Brings Heartache For Poor Families

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

214. 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.

215. 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

216. 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. 

      

217. 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.

218. 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.

219. 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.

220. The Contents of My Pocket

     June 19, 2023 11:09 am 1 Comment

     It’s Tuesday afternoon, June 13th. I’m standing in Eunice’s garden in Kibera. I reach into my jacket pocket and I pull out a handful of organic green peppers and pink and purple embroidery floss. The gentle Kenyan breeze carries the sweet smell of supper cooking throughout the settlement. Life is good.

     

     Now why might these two seemingly different items be in my pocket, you might ask? It’s because both of these items- in their own unique and special ways- make a difference in the lives of women. The photo above expertly captures the intersection of the two projects AP is implementing in Nairobi this summer. A little over a week ago, Bobbi, AP’s Quilt Coordinator, and Merry, an AP Board Member and quilting guru, arrived here in Nairobi for three weeks of embroidery and sewing training! I spent this past week with a group of approximately 20 women from the informal settlement Kangemi and watched as Merry and Bobbi demonstrated how to use sewing machines. Despite embroidering (or hand-sewing) for several years and having mastered the skill, for many of the women it was their first time using a sewing machine. And for me, it was my first time embroidering! While Merry led the way on the machines, the ladies taught me a few basic embroidery stitches. This gave me an opportunity to get to know the ladies and their motivations for joining the group.

     

     The embroidered blocks and bags produced by the women this past week will be sold on AP’s online store, Southern Stitchers, to generate income for the women. However, the project doesn’t only support these women financially. From this week of training, it was clear to me that the project also fosters a strong sense of community, into which I was very warmly welcomed.

     

     Me and my friend Elizabeth on our final day of training!

     After a long and tiring first day of training, I met up with Stella to conduct a site visit in Kibera for Shield of Faith, AP’s composting partner. We went to check up on Verna’s and Eunice’s gardens and make sure the vegetables were all growing healthy and strong. Unfortunately, a few of Verna’s plants were struggling, but with some TLC and the 25 liters of Lishe-Grow she has on hand, her garden will be looking as good as new! As for Eunice’s garden, her massive Chinese cabbages were ready for harvest. I ended up bringing home some of this cabbage as well as lots of spring onions! Verna also took home some of this cabbage and loved it! As the 20 women in Shield of Faith are the primary project participants, it’s so important that they enjoy the foods that they produce. This way, they save a few shillings on their grocery bills, and they incorporate more organic foods into theirs and their family’s diets.

     

     So, as you can see, the contents of my pocket- embroidery floss and peppers- aren’t so different after all. In the context of AP’s work, both of these items contribute to women’s economic empowerment. At the end of the day, us women are more than just gardeners or embroiderers, so it’s important that we are supported in more ways than one.

     

     Me, Bobbi, and Merry exhausted after a long first day of training!

221. Families Of The Disappeared Challenge Human Rights Watch In Nepal

     June 12, 2023 7:01 pm Leave a Comment

     Families Of The Disappeared Challenge Human Rights Watch In Nepal

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

222. Cry of the Crashing Metals

     June 11, 2023 10:07 am Leave a Comment

     

      

     Rajan was having a happy day. After a long time, he was going back to meet his wife Sudipta. As a technician at Fortis Hospital, Kolkata he rarely found the time to go back to Tamil Nadu to meet his family. But it was a special occasion. It was their third marriage anniversary, and he had planned to surprise Sudipta by coming home.

     Rajan had bought a beautiful dress and her favorite sweet from Kolkata. Thinking of the reaction Sudipta would have from seeing him, Rajan tingled with excitement. And he had to be honest, being so far from her was tough. They had cried when he had left. Still, he had to make enough money so that the family could break bread. Sitting by the window with a gentle breeze wafting in, it would only be a matter of a few hours before he reached home.

     Twisting off the cap of the cold bottle of water he had bought on the train to beat the extreme heat, he took a few gulps to cool himself down and placed the bottle on the table next to the window. A few seconds later the train went over a bump and the bottle fell. As Rajan leaned forward to pick up the bottle, he felt the train oscillate violently. Somehow managing to keep his balance, he clenched the window railing with a tight grip.

     Unaware of what had just happened, but aware that the oscillations were increasing, Rajan felt as if the train was about to roll off the rails. Frightened, he stuck his face out of the window, and tried to see what was happening. Numbness engulfed his body as he saw the Grim Reaper staring at him from the edge of the cargo train that was about to collide with Rajan’s train.

     The road of the trains hitting each other stilled the buzz of the busy people circling the station. Suddenly air filled with smoke and agonizing cries rang out. The accident was so massive that the crowd seemed frozen – unable to think of any action to help the victims. Rajan himself was lying on the track with a partially fractured cranium, looking at the box of sweets that was burning in front of his eyes. As he began to lose consciousness, he hoped that his life wasn’t over yet. As the thought played in his mind he heard an increasing gabble from the crowd. He turned his head slowly and saw another train racing towards him.

     *

     Indian Railways is the most accessible form of transportation available to India’s large population. Being easy and affordable to those who cannot afford other options, the railways are a boon. The shaking compartments hold many people with aspirations, emotions, sentiments, and hope. But what happens when the vehicle of hope falls into a web of death? When the boon becomes a curse? One such curse happened in the heartland of Odisha on 2nd June 2023 when three trains collided with each other at Bahanaga Baazar Station, Balasore.

     A freight train was stationed on a loop of track. People were tapping their feet as they stood at the station. Trains were coming back and forth. It seemed like a general day. But what happened next drenched the day with the blood of many innocent people.

     Train 12841, the Coromandel Express (a flagship train of the Indian Railways) was traveling from Shalimar Express with almost 1,300 people on board on its way to Tamil Nadu. The train started at 3:20 pm and was scheduled to reach Coromandel at 4:35 pm – 25 hours. But fate had other plans. Another train traveling from Yashwantpur to Howrah, train 12864 with around 1200 passengers, started its journey at 10:35 am. It was scheduled to arrive at 8:00 pm but was delayed by 3 hours. Both trains were scheduled to pass through Balasore. The way they met causes a shiver to run down the spine.

     Racing along at 130 KM an hour, the Coromandel Express was not scheduled to stop at Bahanga. The passing winds caressed the metal body when a few compartment cars slipped at the Bahanaga Station, causing the train to lose its balance and jump from the track. The unstable train then ran into the freight train that was in the middle of the track, causing passengers to jump off the train and save their threatened lives.

     Local people who were watching in shock were about to lend a hand when the Yashantwapur Express (which was unaware of the crash at the station for technical reasons) slammed into the metal bodies of the two trains that has collided. The lives of approximately 250 people ended in pain and trauma in a fraction of a minute.

     The entire scene looked like a canvas of burning red, with black crusty smoke wafting up into the air. When night fell the number of deaths stood at 30, with 400 injured. But as the sun came up the number had risen to 300 deaths and more than 900 injured. Local people looked on in disbelief. They were unable to describe the incident but their eyes spoke of the horror they had witnessed. Debris had been flung 500 meters from the accident. Rail lines had pierced through the compartments of the train.

     *

     Was it an accident? Who is to blame? Should the government be responsible for the death toll? There are many questions to be answered. However, the real question remains – what will those answers be worth? The answers will not bring back the lives of the dead or heal the injured people lying on hospital beds trying to reach out to their families. They will never erase the trauma that lingers in the hearts of the victims or the many others who travel every day in trains.

     But in every spectrum of black, there is a strand of light. Just after the accident was reported, many people from across Odisha state joined hands and came to help. Crowds stood outside hospitals the entire night, standing patiently to donate blood and assist victims. The queues were longer than the train itself. People selflessly arrived with food, health kits, and relief kits. When the news reached everyone in India and beyond, on the morning of 3rd June 2023, the response was overwhelming.

     There comes a time when humanity is put to the test and June 2 was one such day. Two trains full of people from different states, religions, gender, and castes suffered from a tragedy they never thought possible. People from different states, countries, religions, and ethnicities came forward to help.

     In such moments it feels as if we humans are not as cruel and self-centered as we are made out to be. Somewhere between our race with time and hunger for money lives a selfless child who sheds a tear over the sorrow of others. Somewhere among the voices of hatred and despair lives a gentle murmur of hope.

223. 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.

224. 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. 

     

225. 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.

226. Pastoralist Women Nurture Peace As Fighting Flares In Kenya

     May 11, 2023 12:23 pm Leave a Comment

     Pastoralist Women Nurture Peace As Fighting Flares In Kenya

      

      

      

      

      

227. Ugandan War Survivors Describe Forced Pregnancy and Marriage

     May 3, 2023 9:16 am Leave a Comment

     Ugandan War Survivors Describe Forced Pregnancy and Marriage

      

      

      

      

228. Tribal People in India Take On the Scourge of Malaria

     February 27, 2023 11:10 am Leave a Comment

     Tribal People in India Take On the Scourge of Malaria

      

      

      

229. Stella’s Composters Take Their Message to Schools

     February 13, 2023 10:58 am Leave a Comment

     Stella’s Composters Take Their Message to Schools
     

      

      

230. Community Campaigns Vaccinate Against COVID

     January 9, 2023 9:47 am Leave a Comment

     Community Campaigns Vaccinate Against COVID

      

231. Southern Stitchers Is Open For Business!

     December 8, 2022 9:57 am Leave a Comment

     Southern Stitchers Is Open For Business!

232. Pastoralists Take Aim At Climate Change in Kenya

     November 7, 2022 2:24 pm Leave a Comment

     Pastoralists Take Aim At Climate Change in Kenya

233. Girls in Zimbabwe Beat the Odds and Build a Soap Business

     October 3, 2022 9:57 am Leave a Comment

     Girls in Zimbabwe Beat the Odds and Build a Soap Business

234. Invest in Two Remarkable Women!

     September 13, 2022 8:22 pm Leave a Comment

     Invest in Two Remarkable Women!

235. Daughters of the Disappeared Find Their Voice Through Story-telling and Embroidery in Nepal

     August 30, 2022 2:34 pm Leave a Comment

     Daughters of the Disappeared Find Their Voice Through Story-telling and Embroidery in Nepal

236. 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.

     *

      

      

237. 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.
     

      

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238. Competing Visions Undermine the Resettlement of Afghans in the US

     9:19 am Leave a Comment

     Competing Visions Undermine the Resettlement of Afghans in the US

239. 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!

      

240. Saying Goodbye— My Experience with The Advocacy Project & WAP

     4:36 pm Leave a Comment

     As the summer is ending, As I am disembarking the last weeks of my role as a peace fellow for the Advocacy Project, I can firmly attest that this has been a life-changing personal and professional experience. From getting to capture my worthwhile experiences in succinct blogs, to engaging with other public service workers across the U.S., and even taking on important logistical work for the organization, my experiences are all a testament to the amazing summer I have had. 

     My experiences this summer have confirmed and strengthened my passion for development, international work, storytelling, and public service. Intercultural communication and interaction in general are central to my identity which is why I gravitate towards non-profit work that directly bridges the gap between beneficiaries and providers. 

     As I remotely tackled a new region of the world, I have learned so much about Zimbabwe vicariously through my partner’s experiences. Dawa, my fellow partner, helped me achieve a grounding experience as a remote fellow where I consistently engaged with the work happening in the field allowing me to engage more than I thought possible. 

     As my experience comes to a close, my biggest skill and takeaway from this summer is the power of words and storytelling across various fields. This space and practice paved the way for life-long relationships and a cohesive learning experience, not only for fellows and staff but for partners to see the effect that their unbreakable dedication to a cause has on people thousands of miles away. All in all, it was really interesting to see the work of past fellows and also how their experiences juxtapose ours as we worked in two different eras and situations in the world. Lastly, this summer has taught me the importance of curiosity and sharing ideas— I am excited to take these skills with me wherever my trajectory is. 

     The WAP girls inspire me and their qualities are something admirable we all can learn from.

241. The Importance of Storytelling: Sharing my Experience with DACA at the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals in New Orleans

     August 17, 2022 11:48 pm Leave a Comment

     On July 6, 2022, the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals in New Orleans held its hearing on the State of Texas v. The United States in regards to the legality of the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals Program, otherwise known as DACA. Oral arguments were held that Wednesday at the court.

     DACA is no legalization— it has always been a temporary fix awaiting real legislation. Because it has never been adjusted, it leaves out an ever-growing number of people who could qualify. The legality of the program has been questioned and dates back to the Obama administration. Hundreds of undocumented young people, their families, community, and faith leaders are expected to meet in from of the court demanding the program continue.

     At 6 a.m. dozens of people were outside the court, including me as I prepared to share my experiences as a DACA recipient. The Texas case is challenging the legality of DACA, which directly impacts as many as 750,000 people. After the oral arguments hundreds of people gathered outside for the press conference where I got to share my story with community members, lawyers, and news outlets broadcasting the important event— here is my story, the story I shared: 

     Good Morning, Buenos Dias me da mucho orgullo estar aquí, hoy, en comunidad con ustedes. Wow, this is what a community looks like. 

     My name is Aimee Benitez Aguirre and I am here with CHIRLA. 

     My roots come from Guatemala, a country that was my home for the first four years of my life. Like many of you, my parents migrated to the United States to provide a better life, and a better education, for me and my generations to come. 

     Being a first-generation daughter forced me to grow up quicker than many kids my age. At the age of eight, I was translating for my parents, I was reviewing and making sense of legal documents for them, and guiding them to fit into this country that has consistently stripped us away of our basic human rights. 

     Back in 2017, I did not have the opportunity to apply for DACA because one month before my 15th birthday, the Trump administration decided to halt new applications for DACA. I felt helpless, scared, and defeated about what my future and the future of many like me would look like. I feel that same fear and anger today. 

     All I wanted was to go to school, get an education to serve my community, and give back to this country. In 2020, the Supreme Court ruled to overturn the Trump administration’s action, which meant that in the next 3 weeks I would apply for DACA, and soon after be granted my DACA. I am now proud to say that I, Aimee Benitez Aguirre, a DACA recipient, am attending UCLA majoring in Public Affairs and International Relations. My life barrier became my inspiration to continue to mobilize my community and amplify the voice of my people and our Lucha. 

     However, DACA would once again be stopped because a Texas judge ordered the federal government to end considerations. Millions once again were left out, and millions of applicants in the system were left on pause with no answers! 

     In ten years, a DACA program that was meant as a springboard for young immigrants became a golden cage but today we say enough is enough! 

     DACA was not a gift from anyone. We won it through the relentless organizing of undocumented young people of color across the country. Under the banner of “Undocumented and Unafraid,” they forced the nation to face the injustice of treating immigrants like criminals for seeking a new path for themselves. We have fought for every DACA victory and defended each win at every step. We do it because DACA is about nothing less than our lives. And yet after a decade, this program is still in danger. 

     Being a part of this delegation was an incredible experience this summer, it served as a reminder of why mobilization, storytelling, and mutual aid are important to the work that we do here at AP.

242. Power Sharing In A Deeply Divided Place

     August 7, 2022 10:59 pm Leave a Comment

     

     Credit: Team Leverage Edu

      

     House Speaker Nancy Pelosi made a controversial trip to Taiwan last week, provoking the ire of China who views the island nation as their own. While White House officials have maintained their support for the One China policy, a doctrine stating that China is the sole legitimate government over Taiwan, China has retaliated to Pelosi’s visit by halting climate change and military deals with the U.S. Meanwhile this week Israel and Gaza traded rocket fire that resulted in the deaths of dozens of Palestinians and disrupted hundreds of thousands of Israelis. And Russian troops have attacked Ukraine for over six months now.

     These global squabbles all have similarities: they provide textbook examples of power-sharing in deeply divided places. China and Taiwan, Israel and Palestine, and Russia and Ukraine are geographically and culturally distinct regions that seek control, power, and resources.

     On a much different scale, Children’s Peace Initiative Kenya focuses on easing conflict that arises due to power sharing in a deeply divided place. Geographically and culturally distinct tribes in Northern Kenya fight over cows and pasture land, essentially a fight over control, power, and resources.

     Given this similarity, are there lessons learned from CPI that can be applied to Taiwan-China, Israel-Palestine, and/or Russia-Ukraine? At first-glance, likely not. CPI primarily works with children. Government involvement, and inherently partisan disagreements, are minimal. Most tribes have an interest in sharing power. 

     However, from a broader perspective, CPI’s focus on locating common interests and goals as well as relationship building provide useful lessons to impart on  these three globally distinct regions. Importantly, CPI’s work on climate change also focuses on what psychologists call superordinate goals, or a goal that exceeds all other conditional goals. In the case of CPI, climate change offers a more pressing issue than warring factions do, allowing the disparate tribes to coalesce around common interests.

     While a close examination of the underlying issues plaguing Taiwan-China, Israeli-Palestianian, and Ukraine-Russia relationships is far outside the scope of this blog, superordinate goals offer a glimpse into what a future for each of the two nations could look like. 

     Power-sharing inherently involves compromises and concessions and, in the case of superordinate goals, a focus on a broader purpose. It remains to be seen what exactly these superordinate goals could be, but CPI’s small-scale example offers a successful model in which power-sharing can be accomplished in a deeply divided place.

243. Latrine Handover Ceremony: A Day to Remember

     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

244. Opening Ceremony & Goodbyes…

     August 3, 2022 2:45 pm Leave a Comment

     Ten weeks have gone by way too fast! Now it’s time for me to wrap up my work in Zimbabwe and head back to the U.S. Time flew by amongst challenges, accomplishments, learning new things, and building lifelong friendships. But before I leaving Zimbabwe, I wanted to make sure that WAP, I, and all the beneficiaries come together and celebrate the achievements this summer. We wanted a day to acknowledge the accomplishments and reward the efforts that went into establishing this new WAP soap facility. As a result, we organized a small opening ceremony. This gathering turned out so beautiful and exceeded all my expectations.

     

     Cleaning up the production facility for the ceremony.

     

     A night before the ceremony, Constance, her daughters and I prepped 60 snack bags to give away to the girls.

     After we tackled all the priorities, such as wrapping up June’s soap production and ensuring that we had transport, electricity, and a functioning facility, we started prepping for the opening ceremony. A few WAP beneficiaries, Constance, and I, cleaned and organized the facility and planned the ceremony. Although I was super excited about the gathering, I was also concerned about the turnout. Because all the beneficiaries live atleast an hour away from the new facility, I wasn’t sure how many of them could join us for the function. So, we provided transport costs to ensure that many could be present at the gathering. On the day of the ceremony, I was so happy to see 57 beneficiaries who managed to come out of 68 total. This was incredible.

     The WAP girls arrived in reserved minivans singing out loud. You could hear them from a mile away. The energy was so contagious, and the fun continued the whole day. During the ceremony, they danced, performed dramas, sang, and provided testimonies of how WAP has been helping them. We had a journalist that captured the event as well as a local public speaking leader who came to give some encouraging words to the girls. Constance took the stage to share the mission and vision of WAP. Dickson and I also joined in to give a few remarks. To make the program more fun, we organized a talent competition round where girls from all three different communities danced and performed dramas. Constance and Dickson were the judges who chose the winning community to be Chitungwiza. The winning group got a small gift which they were super happy to receive. The fun ended with cutting and eating a beautifully decorated cake and taking lots of pictures.

     

     Epworth girls performing drama in talent competition

     

     Chitungwiza girls performing dance for the ceremony.

     

     Girls are taking their performances seriously!

      

     While trying to capture the event in pictures and videos, I realized something important. This ceremony meant more than a gathering for these girls. The excitement, joy, and laughter were not just about the cake, snacks, and the fun things happening at the ceremony. It was because they were feeling a sense of solidarity. Seeing the new facility where the soaps they sell are made, hearing testimonies from their peers, and sitting among 50-plus girls wearing WAP dust coats just like them meant they are part of something important. They are part of the change that the Women Advocacy Project has been working towards. Witnessing the growth of WAP from making the soaps in a garage till last year to now owning their production facility added validation for these beneficiaries. It validated that WAP is here to stay and help them for a long time to come. Hearing testimonies from different girls who talked about how WAP enabled them to get employment, go to university, help families, and resist early marriage was also very powerful. These testimonies made the girls realize that WAP’s work resonates with girls from all walks of life. Even with my best effort, I am sure I won’t be able to translate the energy and the morale boast I sensed in that gathering. All I can say is that this event was impactful in every measure.

     

     A local journalist taking picture of Constance while she shares WAP’s mission and vision.

     

     Rosemary sharing her WAP testimony with everyone.

     This opening ceremony was a perfect way for me to end my summer as well. This gathering gave me the opportunity to say goodbye and give warm hugs to each one of them one last time. I was also lucky enough to receive some goodbye gifts from some girls. I know I will cherish these tokens of friendships for a lifetime. Lastly, I am leaving Zimbabwe with so much appreciation for WAP and its work. When I started this journey back in May, I had a little understanding of WAP and its impact. Today, I know what making soap means for these 60-plus girls and the change WAP is bringing in Zimbabwean communities one soap at a time. I started this ten-week journey by sharing a quote from one of my professors with Constance and Dickson: “Development work is not about becoming a world savior. It’s about adding your efforts to work that is bringing change.” And I like to believe that; this summer, I was fortunate enough to add to the efforts of WAP to provide income-generating opportunities for its beneficiaries and abolish early marriage.

     Some more pictures from the ceremony:

     

245. Thank You and Goodbyes

     1:32 am Leave a Comment

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

     

     Cat acrobat extraordinaire

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

      

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

     

     A classic

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

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

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

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

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

     

     Dal bhat at home with Prabal and Prajita

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

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

     

     Family visit in Chitawan

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

     Thanks for everything and until next time, Nepal!

246. Bards In The Square

     August 2, 2022 4:16 pm Leave a Comment

     

     Credit: Universal History Archive/Getty Images

      

     I recently finished reading Barbarians At The Gate by Bryan Burrough and John Helyar. The book tells the true story of the fall of RJR Nabisco and the ensuing greed, viciousness, and ego-driven thinking that resulted. Throughout most of the process, pride replaced sincerity, and gluttony replaced honesty. Many friendships were lost due to disagreements in buying power. In the end, the “barbarians,” the reputation seekers even at the expense of an arguably sound business decision, won. The barbarians had successfully stormed the gate, leaving a trail of avarice and $25 billion behind. 

     The book’s story of for-profit companies forced me to reflect on my time working at The Advocacy Project (AP), a non-profit. If Henry Kravis and Peter Cohen, businessmen leading the decision-making, were consumed by greed and ego, what motivates us at non-profits? If they focused on money, what do we focus on? If they are “barbarians,” what are we?

     Unlike many for-profits driven by money, stories drive AP. Their mission statement alone illustrates this as “the Advocacy Project helps marginalized communities tell their stories, strengthen their organizations, take action, and mobilize new support.”

     My time interning at AP exemplifies this mission. During the first half of my summer, I worked closely with Children’s Peace Initiative Kenya (CPIK) to help develop and implement strategic plans to form women-led startups that create tribal peace. Later in the summer, I took embroidered designs made by women in Nepal and turned them into plates to tell the story of festivals. In both instances, my focus was neither on securing seed money nor working with venture capital firms but on creating narratives. For CPIK, I helped feature each woman – for the plate project, I helped highlight important festivals in Nepali culture.  

     

     A photo of Josephine

     I followed the story and the narrative, not the money and the profit. I learned about Josephine, a Samburu businesswoman who trades maize across tribal lines, Joyce, a Samburu mother of seven who owns a maize mill and sells petrol for motorbikes, and Chepsait, a 30-year-old mother of eight and an advocate for peace in her community. 

     What a story lacks in monetary power, it more than makes up for in emotional strength. Money can buy views, but not interactions. It can buy power and prestige, but not connections. A simple story, and not money, can transcend a complex boundary, leading to a deeper understanding and connection that most other concepts can never dream to reach.

     Moreover, unlike the “barbarian” businessmen who stormed the gate from the outside, AP focuses on creating close relationships from the inside. Contrary to Barbarians At The Gate where partnerships were formed as means to an end, nonprofits like AP seem to build partnerships as an end in itself. Interactions between partners in the book were transactional; interactions at AP are personal. The “barbarians” were colleagues, we’re friends. 

     We’re not driven by money; we’re driven by stories. We’re not transactional; we’re focused on creating friendships. We’re not barbarians at the gate; we’re bards in the square. 

247. 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.

248. 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.

249. Community-Built Toilets Promise Better Hygiene for 1,400 Students in Uganda

     July 29, 2022 1:30 pm Leave a Comment

     Community-Built Toilets Promise Better Hygiene for 1,400 Students in Uganda

250. Pandemics, Instagram, and Ethical International Support

     July 28, 2022 6:41 pm Leave a Comment

     The pandemic-induced instability continues to jostle the world around me. While trendlines undulate with every new variant, the virus has me cornered. My friend has COVID-19. So does my friend’s friend. My partner’s grandmother was reinfected twice in the same month. My father’s day consists of laying in a hospital bed, waiting for the next available doctor–breaking the monotony of isolating within the same four walls for the past weeks. Like riding a county fair coaster held together by shabby bolts and nails, I feel uneasy about what’s to come next. Yet, I still hold on.

     I’m sure many others feel the same way. Even the most diligent of mask-wearers and vaccine-takers can test positive after one lapse in judgment, but, really, any contact is a risk. I find myself wondering, where do we go from here? With my feelings of pessimism about the state of the pandemic, I scroll through Instagram to divert my attention. One of my friends posted a Johns Hopkins infographic on the reemerging monkeypox virus. “Great,” I thought, “just what I needed.” I scroll through their page only to find a post that caught my eye titled, “How Does a Pandemic Become Endemic?” Promises of an endemic phase have been thrown around before, a promise that has seemed intangible to me, simply because there is no way to predict how the virus will mutate. I click anyway. The post stated that key characterizations of an endemic are “overall severe case rates dropping, decreasing rates of death and hospitalization, and our healthcare system not being overwhelmed.” Bottom line, a virus that is manageable, not eradicated is considered endemic. 

     

     JRP Covid Volunteers (July 2022).

     Right now, the post continued, the best way to prevent the virus from overwhelming our healthcare system and protecting our fellow neighbors is by wearing a tight-fitting mask and getting vaccinated–still. What’s extremely important is that we achieve this globally, even in areas that are deemed “inaccessible.” After reading this Instagram infographic, I actually felt better. I started to reflect on the numerous vaccination campaigns supported by The Advocacy Project, including one I am supporting now in India. Suddenly, my feelings of hopelessness settled. What once was a day filled with anxiety over my father’s sickness became one of hope, determined for solution-based action. 

     I scroll further to a post titled “4 Ways to Decolonize Global Health.” For a mere social media post, this proved to be an interesting intersection of global health and international development. The post points out that often richer establishments insert themselves into poorer countries, collect data, throw money at an undeveloped area, and leave. What’s even worse is that sometimes these efforts are done for a photo op or self-serving purposes, only to leave the community remaining ill-equipped. By contrast, a decolonizing effort asks local partners what they think is important and builds the infrastructure to provide care. Throughout my time at The Advocacy Project, I’ve come to appreciate that our methods of development are practiced through a decolonization lens. We partner with local organizations, creating lifelong connections to sustainably develop communities in need. 

     

     Photo by Anil from JRP of Covid Awareness Campaign in Odisha Block (July 2022).

      

     I reflected further on the vaccination project I am working on in India. We have partnered with a local organization called Jeevan Rekha Parishad (JRP) to provide hundreds of vaccinations to the Bondha and Kandha Tribes in Odisha Block. JRP has trained local volunteers to hold public awareness campaigns, provide masks, and administer vaccinations to these villages deemed inaccessible by the government. To garner more support for our campaign, they have enlisted dancers to perform traditional folk Pala dances, an indigenous practice that has religious and entertainment roots. This vaccine campaign is off to a strong start. After weeks of preparatory work and one day of vaccination centers open, the volunteers have already provided 146 first doses and 53 second doses to the tribal peoples of Odisha Block.

     I would like to give a shoutout to our friends Dr. Manu and the local volunteers that have worked diligently to organize this effort. It has been wonderful working with you. While the course of the pandemic has been crazy, draining, and unpredictable, I feel a newfound sense of optimism. I’m going to keep in mind that despite everything thrown at us in our personal lives, there are still organizations that are combating this virus as best as they can. The fight persists. 

      

251. Finding a Way to Recycle and Reuse

     July 25, 2022 4:21 pm Leave a Comment

     This summer, I had many goals for WAP. I organized my goals by priorities and assigned each week to have a theme to work on them. Week 4 was dedicated to achieving one of the most important goals for this summer: reducing the use of plastic in WAP soap making. With this aim, we dedicated the week to brainstorming ideas, researching, and visiting vendors and stores. This was an important goal for two reasons. First, using plastic was not a sustainable business practice as the cost of plastic was high in production. Secondly, reducing plastic use can help WAP expand its funding potential and opportunities.

     Constance, Dickson, and I started the week by discussing what could be done. In our conversation, we realized that our goal should be to reduce the use of plastic bottles in soap packaging. WAP soaps are packed in 750ml plastic bottles. These bottles are the biggest source of plastic used in production and account for one of the highest production costs.

     

     Clean Girl Soap bottle (750ml)                   

     

     Clean Girl Dish Washing Liquid Soaps (6 in a case)

     While brainstorming, one of the first ideas I shared was about refill sachet for soap. This idea came to me when I went to a supermarket to grab some snacks during my first week in Zimbabwe. I was walking by the dairy section in the store when I saw milk sold in sachet packages. This gave me an idea of having a similar approach to making refill sachets for dishwashing soaps. This would reduce the use of plastic and also be cheaper to produce. Dickson and Constance liked the idea, and we started working on it.

     To have a better understanding of the sachets, we decided to start by visiting a distribution center for a milk production company. This company made milk and yogurt in sachets. An agent at this company directed us to a plastic packaging vendor they use for their dairy products. It was called NatPak Packaging Solutions. The same day, we visited NatPak to understand what they do and if they can help us with our vision for sachets. We met a very friendly and helpful sales agent Pepe. She was very thorough and helped us understand that what we wanted to achieve was not possible in Zimbabwe yet. A similar concept is used by a South African company that makes soaps, but in Zimbabwe, no packaging company makes those soap sachets yet. Though we were a bit disappointed to learn that, we were also thankful to gain more knowledge about packaging and build a good relationship with Pepe.

     After that, we shifted our focus to see what else could be done to reduce the use of plastic. We started brainstorming again, and I began asking questions about the bottle caps. I learned that the bottle caps are bought separately from the bottles. Each of the caps costs $0.12, which is a big chunk of cost for a bottle of soap that is priced at $1. Constance also explained that almost all soap companies use the same type of bottle caps. This made me think about a promotion for bottle caps and focus on recycling and reusing them. We talked as a group and came up with the idea of giving incentives for customers to return the bottle caps to us. We decided to create flyers to ask customers to bring 20 usable bottle caps; in return, we would give them a $1 or one free bottle of Clean Girl Soap. I designed a promotion flyer, and WAP printed 500 copies. We have included the flyers in each case (6 bottles in one case) of soaps that will be delivered to the markets soon. We will also hand out some of the flyers to the WAP participants so they can distribute them during their door-to-door sales. WAP will sanitize the returned bottle caps and reuse them in production. We are excited to see what the result of this promotion will be. If it works in our favor, this new strategy will help WAP reduce the use of plastic and the cost of production overall.

     

     Promotion Flyer for bottle caps.

     

     We included a flyer in each case of soaps that will be delivered to the markets.

252. Materials, Mangoes, and a Monkey

     July 24, 2022 7:21 am 1 Comment

      

     

     I don’t remember if the motto “Be Prepared” is from the Boy Scouts or the Girl Scouts but I do know that it often comes to mind as we begin embroidery training in different places.  As a teacher, I’ve always prepared lesson plans and materials well in advance of a class.  Students need to have confidence in their instructor and to know that the person in front of them (or beside them or behind them) has something more to offer than they already know.

     So, in coming to Africa to continue embroidery training for four groups of women and girls, almost all of whom had done at least one embroidery with AP, I prepared and prepared and prepared some more.  I tried to consider the contingencies and think about the materials we would need but might not be able to get locally.  My suitcase and backpack were filled with embroidery hoops, fabric, books, and literally thousands of skeins of embroidery floss. 

     I even jettisoned a couple of extra shirts to make room for the ever-increasing load of supplies.  I had written out a plan for each day and rehearsed, to a degree, my opening remarks to put everyone at ease.

     But then, as every teacher knows, reality hits.  The training venues required me to adapt my plans from the first moment.  In Zimbabwe we were in a rather small room in a tin-roofed structure which had two window openings and a single overhead light.  Threading needles in good light can be a challenge but in  dim light it can be an ordeal.  Just moving among the fifteen active and talkative girls required agility as some sat on the floor, others on two small couches and some behind a table – remember, this was a very small room!

     I had to step over legs, reach across some girls to reach others, and often found myself on my knees to be able to assist with issues.  If a needle was accidentally dropped, the barefooted participants were all alerted to be on the lookout and to tread carefully.

      

     

     Uganda took us to outdoor training under the beautiful mango tree.  This presented two different, unanticipated issues:  1) falling mangos, which hurt when they hit and 2) no windows.  One of my strategies for transferring embroidery designs from paper to fabric is to tape the paper to a window, tape the fabric over the paper, and trace the design.  You can’t do that without windows!  I found a different way, a little more time-consuming but we all learned.  By the way, the mango dropping was a windfall for the ladies as they left each day with these sweet treats to take home to their families.

     In Kenya we are once more meeting outdoors – or rather we are meeting in a covered area, open on two-sides, which might be outdoor living space but is somewhat akin to a carport.  Again, we have no but I’m now prepared for that.  We have poor light, but I got some new needles with larger eyes.  It rained a little yesterday, but we just crowded closer under the covered area and carried on. We also had to be aware of the monkeys coming if we had food out.  They don’t like to be told “no!”

     I’m not registering these challenges as any kind of complaint, nor am I intending to show that I’m a super-teacher who can cope with any adversity.  Rather, this is to show that when you want to accomplish something you can if you don’t let adjustments to the plan stand in your way and if you encourage creative thinking, 

     And these students are creative thinkers.  They have taught me a lot in these past four weeks and they have taught each other.  When I see students helping each other, I tell them that when you teach, you improve your own learning and many times you learn something new yourself.  I know that I have continued to learn as I’ve taught these different groups of students in very different surroundings.  I hope they’ve learned what I had prepared in my lesson plans. But I also hope they will continue to learn from and to each other as they become more proficient with each block.

253. Handover Ceremony Preparations: Cow Shopping

     July 21, 2022 7:23 am Leave a Comment

     Reading previous GDPU Peace Fellow blogs and sitting down with Emma and Patrick, I was able to get a sense of how previous handover ceremonies have been performed and what I could expect prior to the ceremony. I also asked if there was anything they would change to which Emma and Patrick expressed that the ceremonies have only provided a goat which would only be enough to feed the visitors and that the students would not be able to enjoy meat nor refreshments. With the increase in our budget to conduct the renovation of the existing ten stances and employ Emma to produce soap for the handover, we saw that there was enough money to do something extra special, buy a cow (and sodas!).

     Upon my visit to the school last week for the training, I spent the lunch hour with the P7 boys, listening to music, talking, taking photos, and playing games. When I mentioned that the ceremony would be next week Friday, almost all the boys asked me if they would be getting meat. At the time, I wasn’t sure if we had money in the budget to buy a cow, so I told them honestly that I don’t know. They expressed to me how they eat the same food at school every single day (Monday – Sunday), porridge for breakfast, and posho and beans for lunch and supper. Knowing that getting to enjoy meat during the ceremony was something that the students were dreaming of and in a sense expecting, I did not want to disappoint.

     Walter and I made the journey to visit two cow owners, one being a friend of Walter’s friend, while the other was a local butcher. The first car we visited was in Unyama, very deep in the bush. We were greeted by the owners son who walked us to see the cow, a beautiful white cow roughly 350 pounds.

     After the first visit, we made our way to Layibi where we visited the butcher. I had imagined that his cow would be at a farm grazing on grass, but when we pulled up to the butchery I was not prepared for what I saw. Bloody cow horns, a dead calf, horrific conditions, and a smell that was so putrid I almost threw up.

     

     It’s safe to say that we went with the white cow. I can’t wait to see everyone’s face at the handover when we surprise them with the cow; it will be a day we will never forget.

254. The Tharu Cultural Museum

     July 20, 2022 8:06 am 1 Comment

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

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

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

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

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

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

     

     Park area of the museum

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

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

     

     Grain sieves

     

     Grain baskets

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

     

     From birth …

     

     … to death

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

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

     

     With Pinky, BASE staff member

     

     Trying on a traditional dress

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

     

     Lunch for the day

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

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

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

255. 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.

      

      

256. 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.

257. Unexpected Religious Experience in Uganda

     9:17 am Leave a Comment

     Religion plays a very large part in everyday life in Uganda. It is very common for people to ask what religion you are, even upon first encounter. “Are you a Christian or a Muslim?” can even be heard as an introductory phrase. When I tell people that my religion is not common in Uganda and that they may have never heard of it, they become intrigued.

     When I respond that I am Jewish, I am often met with many various reactions: “Wow,” “I have never heard of that religion,” “the people of Israel,” “do you believe in God,” are some of the most common responses that I receive. All of the reactions I have gotten have been positive, with many people being curious and asking questions about Judaism. This prompted me to search online if there were any Jewish communities in Uganda, to which I discovered that an eight-hour bus ride from Gulu in the small city of Mbale lies a small Jewish community with a synagogue, Jewish primary and secondary school, and Mikva (bath used to achieve ritual purity).

     After already visiting a couple of Jewish communities in Africa (Morocco and Tunisia), I was intrigued to make a visit to the Jewish community in Mbale. I reached out to one of the members I had found on Instagram, Yochanan, and arranged the visit.

     

     Some of the members of Mbale’s Jewish community

     Reflecting on the visit, I can say it was one of the most special religious encounters I have ever have. As someone who is a proud Jewish person and the grandson and great-grandson of Holocaust survivors, I always feel a sense of pride when I get to meet Jewish people from various communities around the world.

     During the weekend, I enjoyed Friday night and Saturday Sabbath services, a Sabbath walk through the community visiting local members as well as the primary and secondary school, a Saturday night post-Sabbath party fit with music, food, and locally made beer, and a Sunday visit to the Mbale Zoo and falls. My weekend with the Jewish community in Mbale will always be a memory I cherish and anytime I am asked with what religion I am, I respond “I am Jewish, there is even a small community in Mbale!”

     

     Hatikva, Israel’s national anthem, written on the side of the primary school

258. 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.

259. Toilet Upkeep: Preparing For the Handover Ceremony

     7:36 am Leave a Comment

     With the handover ceremony for the Wash Project fast approaching, we conducted a training focused on raising awareness of disabilities and maintaining the toilets to ensure that they’ll be well kept and last for years to come. The training was led by Faruk, the executive director of Ability Sports Africa, and Jennifer, a GDPU board member. There were about 35 people in attendance, including parents, PTA members, and teachers.

     

     The training began at 10 A.M., and went until 5 in the evening, with a delicious lunch of goat’s meat, cabbage, posho, rice, and beans, being provided by GDPU. While the training was quite heavy in content, the participants thoroughly enjoyed with the feedback from those in attendance being incredibly positive. After the meeting, the head teacher Joyce approached me and informed me that she was very impressed by Faruk and Jennifer, and that she learned a lot, prompting her to do everything in her power to ensure the toilets are well-kept and maintained.

     The training incorporated lots of group activities, having group member’s work together to form ideas and solutions, rather than work alone.

     

     With the toilets nearing completion and the students eagerly awaiting to use them, it is vital that the information that was conveyed to parents, PTA, and teachers will be conveyed to the students. This is to ensure that the students will maintain the toilets by cleaning them on a daily basis and not disposing of stones into the pit so that they will last for many years to come. I hope that when I return to Awach P7 in the near future, that I will see the toilets being cleaned and cared for, and looking like they did during the handover ceremony.

260. 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.

261. Main Market: Forever Changed

     July 15, 2022 9:19 am 1 Comment

     On July 1st, a nationwide order came into effect that all vendors must vacate the streets. Prior to that order, there were thousands of vendors in Gulu selling on the street as a source of income to support their families.

     Within Gulu, one of the most arguably recognizable landmarks is Gulu Main Market. If you were to visit the market prior to July 1st, you would see hundreds of vendors selling in the designated parking space, around the market, and on the roadside. However, on July 1st, Gulu law enforcement backed by military officials evicted the sellers by force.

     

     By Sunday the 3rd, Gulu Main Market appeared abandoned with all sellers being told to relocate inside or sell from their homes. Sunday night, where I would usually see dozens of sellers selling food, clothing, shoes, etc. was eerily quiet, with military roaming the streets and no sellers outside.

     I met with my friend Hamuza who is originally from Kampala but has been living and working within Gulu for the past couple of years to discuss how the order has effected his livelihood. Hamuza worked a cart seven days a week where he would sell fried fish, chicken, and chips across the street from my hotel (he did not own the cart). After the order, military came and chased everyone off the street, warning them not to return or they will face consequences. As a result, Hamuza has returned him to Kampala to see if he can find any job with his family as he can’t afford rent in Gulu and the cart owner has suspended his payments.

     While the goal of the order is to make cities cleaner and to increase the amount of sellers within designated town markets, tens of thousands (possibly even hundreds of thousands), will feel the effects of the order as they can’t afford to rent a space, thus preventing them from earning a income and supporting themselves and their families.

     

     Military ordering the removal of non-permanent structures

      

     

     The destruction of people’s livelihoods

262. The Big Dig: Engagement of Parents and the Power of Community

     6:26 am 1 Comment

     After awarding the Wash Project to Awach P7, Joyce, the incredible head teacher, was able to quickly round up and organize the parents in preparation for the big dig. With the instructions from the contractors already distributed to the teachers, everyone was on board on where to begin the digging. Over the course of two days, parents of enrolled students came together to help get the project rolling.

     On the first day of the dig, Emma, Benson, and I arrived around 11 A.M. We were pleasantly surprised with the rapid pace and the amount of digging that had been completed. Parents had been working as early as 5 A.M., and the turnout had exceeded all expectations; as many as 120 parents gathered on the first day as they dug the pit in support of their children!

     Despite the hot conditions, the long journeys they made to be able to attend, and the hard labor they endured, the parents felt extremely thankful that the Wash Project was taking place and benefiting their children. As the digging came to a close at around noon, the majority of the dig was able to be finished in one day due to the hard work and dedication of the parents.

     

     Parents partaking in the dig

      

     With all the success and progress made, the GDPU team made it a point to thank and speak to each parent that came out in support, starting with Benson, one of GDPU’s executive members and treasurer. Emma then spoke to parents about the importance of attending to children with disabilities and the importance of caring for them and giving them equal opportunities. She then referred parents to the resources at GDPU like wheelchairs, walking sticks, etc. and then opened the floor up to the parents to express any personal experience with individuals with disabilities and things that the community as a whole can do to assist these individuals. Afterwards, I shared my thoughts and thanks to the parents, expressing my gratitude of how fortunate I was for their support and how the project will be conducted and completed before I return to the US. Despite the language barrier for some, my smile and hand motions spoke more than my words.

     

     Emma delivering her speech to the parents under the tree

      

     As we sat under the tree enjoying our posho and beans, the success of the first day of digging came to a close. With many more adventures left in this Wash Project, the school community was left hopeful and more connected than ever before.

     

     Speaking with some of the parents after lunch

263. The Wash Challenge at Awach and GDPU’s Goals

     5:40 am 1 Comment

     While Awach P7 has received extensive renovations as well as the current construction of a on-site health clinic for students, the toilets have not received the same care. Students are consistently faced with a horrific stench when they enter the toilets. As they continue to enter the stall, they notice feces smeared across the walls, a door barely clinging on, and maggots seeping out of the toilets. The fear, disgust, and embarrassment kick in as they contemplate using the bathroom in public or under these conditions, no choice seeming more appealing than the other. That is what the students at Awach P7 face daily.

     During my first visit to Awach P7, the majority of the time was spent with Joyce, the head teacher. We visited the boys and girls toilets only briefly, rather, tackling the logistics of the school such as enrollment, need, and number of students with disabilities within her office.

     

     On my second visit to the school, I was able further examine the toilets and the existing conditions that were breeding grounds for diseases. As we conducted our interviews with the teachers and evaluated the student-to-toilet ratio, we realized the toilet disparity and lack of proper sanitation was a real barrier for these students.

     At Awach P7 there are 10 stances, 5 for the girls, and 5 for the boys. The extenuating conditions of the toilets has created an environment where the boys find it easier to pee in public than to enter the stalls— leaves, stones, and the walls serving as their primary form of toilet paper gave an insight into the lack of a bathroom system in this school. For the girls, the conditions were exacerbated as it is much more difficult for them to use the bathroom outside of the stalls creating large wait times across the school to enter the toilets. During their menstrual cycles, the girls have no room to change their clothes or change their pads. There is a pile of used pads outside the girl’s bathroom that the administration burns weekly adding to the embarrassment of simply using the restroom. Because of this, in addition, the project is tackling a new changing room for the girls to assist them when needing to change or during their menstruation cycle.

     

     Poor conditions at Awach P7 toilets

      

     The deliverables for this project were broken down into 3 main sectors: sanitation and containing the spread of disease, accessibility, and creating a safe environment for students to be able to use the bathroom.

     One we confirmed with Joyce that Awach P7 had been selected for the construction of our Wash Project, we conducted a full investigation, took photos, and observed the nature of the toilets during our time there. One of the doors had caved in, toilets were blocked and unusable, and maggots were crawling in and out of the toilets making it impossible to use these facilities. Many students would rather dispose of their feces outside the toilets because of the intense conditions. After seeing the worse-than-expected conditions, I reported back to AP and evaluated the budget with Iain and Delaney.

     After vouching on behalf of the school that the need of renovating the existing toilets was greatly needed, AP was able to pull together an additional $5,000, bringing our total investment into toilets at Awach at $15,000. All in all, we with the increase in the budget, we’re able to distribute soap and toilet paper, renovate the 10 existing toilets, and have a grander handover ceremony which will be unforgettable.

     Increased enrollment is something the school is tackling and an expansion of a bathroom system that is accessible to all the student population is of the utmost importance. Pressure and pride should not be factors that students have to consider when relieving themselves— GDPU and AP are changing this.

     

     Poster with school enrollment numbers at Awach P7

264. Choice of Schools: On to Awach!

     4:10 am Leave a Comment

     Choosing a beneficiary of AP and GDPU’s Wash Project has thrown us for a loop. Prior to my arrival here in Gulu, I had been informed that the school on the receiving end of the project would be Saint Martin Lukome Primary School. The school was due to receive the Wash Project in 2021 by previous fellow Anna, however, with the COVID pandemic and the lockdown, the project was unable to go ahead as planned. Within my first couple of weeks in Uganda, we made a visit to Saint Martin Lukome but were unimpressed with what we came across.

     Prior to our visit, we had organized a meeting with the head teacher to reconfirm our dedication to the school and providing them with the much needed toilets. However, once we arrived, the head teacher was nowhere to be seen. This caught us by surprise as we had anticipated that the head teacher would be ecstatic to receive the Wash Project, however, we had come to realize why the head teacher did not prioritize our visit… they had just received new toilets but had failed to disclose this information to us.

     

     No one to be found within the head teacher’s office

      

     The next day we made a visit to the DEO office where we conveyed what we had come across and requested to work with a new school. After looking at the list, the two schools that were most in need of toilets based on the toilet to student ratio were Panyikworo Primary and Awach P7.

      

     

     The newly built toilet at Saint Martin Lukome Primary School

      

     After visiting both schools and meeting with both head teachers, we decided to select Awach P7.

     While both schools were in need, Awach P7 has an enrollment of 1,400 students and a mere 10 toilets, five for boys and five for girls. With maggots crawling around the toilets, feces covering the walls, and unbearable smells coming from the toilets, we realized the immense need of the school and the students, inspiring us to tackle this project.

265. 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.

266. 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.

267. Hope Amidst Challenges – Reflections on Field Experience in Baragoi

     July 10, 2022 1:24 pm Leave a Comment

     

     Monica Kinyua with Turkana girls during a visit by CPI Kenya to the North

      

     We made our first trip to Northwest Kenya this year in February. On our way from Nairobi to Nanyuki (the town at the foot of Mt. Kenya), we noticed the snow on the peak of Mount Kenya is barely visible. However, on our trip from Nanyuki to Rumuruti, we were graced to see Elephants, Giraffes, Rhino’s, Buffalos, and Ostriches among other wild animals. This time round, unlike similar seasons of a few years ago, the weather is very dry. The wildlife has

     barely anything to eat as most of the trees in their habitat have dried. The road from Nanyuki to Rumuruti towards Maralal is dustier.  On our way from Maralal to Baragoi, we encountered a bus carrying water containers, a signal that the water situation is not very good. The sun is scorching, and one would confuse 11am for 2pm due to the sharpness of the sun.

     Upon arrival in Baragoi, there is some tension as a recent incident took away one life of a Samburu man, who was part of the participants of the last training that we conducted in Bendera village late last year. This was in addition to hundreds of herds of cattle that were lost during the same incident. Unfortunately, this incident was a counterattack after an attack that had taken place a few weeks ago. A Turkana man from Nachola village was killed and he left behind a young widow who had a young baby delivered in January this year. The memories of this conflict that took away her husband will remain forever in her mind.

     Upon arrival, we took time to console the participants of the training who either lost their dear ones or their herds of animals. Most of these raids are orchestrated by communities beyond front line villages although it is the members of the frontline villages who are left to bear the pain of the counter attacks and revenge.

     The story of Mzee Leparsulan

     

     Mzee Leparsulan (center) with the CPI Kenya team – Monica Kinyua and Hilary Halkano

     While the Turkana and Samburu community members shared their side of the story on how the protracted conflict has affected both sides of Turkana and Samburu communities, one man by name Leparsulan shared a heartwarming story.

     Leparsulan is a Samburu from the village of Bendera. He has three children who have been in the children peace program for three consecutive years. He is also a beneficiary of heifers for peace and goat for peace project organized by Children Peace Initiative Kenya through the support of ifa Zivik and Rotary International. Leparlsulan’s daughter has a friend in Natiti, one of the Turkana villages targeted by the peace project.

     Together with his daughter he has participated in family homestay peace activity and has bonded with the Turkana family where his daughter has friends.  During the family homestay visits the two families became friends, exchanged contacts, and have maintained communication.  Their children visit each other during the weekends and school holiday.

     In January this year, a raid took place and the Turkana warriors raided hundreds of Samburu cows and goats. On the day the raid took place, Mzee Leparsulan was grazing near the Turkana territory. It was the only place with pasture as it had been abandoned for several months due to conflict. Mzee Leparsulan had his herd of cattle as well as those of his fellow villagers. They were herding together with his other Samburu colleagues.

     

     A Samburu woman from Bendera village meets her Turkana ‘daughter’ from Nachola. The girl is a ‘friend for peace’ to her daughter and has participated in CPI Kenya’s program

     That day he received a call from a Turkana woman, mother of his daughter’s friend for peace. She enquired where he was and on noticing the danger surrounding the father of her daughter’s friend, told him there is an imminent raid on the Samburu herds by the Turkana warriors and he should vacate from that grazing zone as quickly as he can.

     Leparsulan immediately alerted his colleagues and they started driving the animals away from the hostile zone. In less than an hour, the Turkana raided the Samburu herds and took with them cows and goats. Leparsulan’s cows and goats and those of his village mates who were near him were lucky that day. If it was not for that call from a Turkana woman whose child is a friend for peace to Leparsulan’s. He says he would have lost all his livestock that day, not only his but some of his Samburu neighbors too.

     Mzee Leparsulan says he will forever remain grateful to his Turkana family friends for the gesture that saved him and his animals. He felt so indebted to his Turkana family friends for peace, that he sent her Kshs 500 ($5) to buy something for her family.

     The Mzee’s story is similar to many other stories shared by beneficiaries who have enjoyed the inter community connection created by the children peace program among the Samburu and Turkana communities in Baragoi Sub County.  Many lives have been saved and although the situation is still delicate, this is a story of hope.

     

     Monica at the Ngilai Primary School with beneficiaries of the ‘Friends for Peace’ program

     The Mzee’s experience is a ray of hope and is also not isolated since the sharing of information across the two communities has increased since the inter-community friendship was initiated by children.

     The inter-community interactions have continued and gentle actions of kindness continue being expressed by families who have been connected through children and parents’ family pairing activity. Over the weekends and holidays, children from Natiti and Bendera villages have been visiting each other and helping with domestic chores.

     Their parents have also been sharing gifts when the children visit. Gifts range from goats, uniforms, calabashes, foodstuffs, money, and confectionaries among other gifts.

     The Green Water

     

     Precious resource: girls collect water

     In Ngilai village where one of our trainings took place, we were warmly welcomed by the school headteacher. He shared how difficult the situation in the school has become lately. Although the school has a boarding section, there is a shortage of food ration and children skip lunch most of the time.

     Water is another challenge. At that time, unfortunately the school was running out of the water for cooking and in a few days’ time he was not sure how they would cope. While we were still conversing with the headteacher, we saw the girls in the boarding section walking with buckets of dirty laundry for cleaning and yellow water containers to go fetch water in a dam nearby. The dam near the school dried up last year due to a prolonged dry spell. The last time the area received reliable rainfall was in April 2021.

     The water levels for boreholes have become very low and most of the dams have dried. The nearest dam that is serving the school and the community is 4.5 kilometers away from Ngilai village. The girls were in the company of an elderly school matron who was also carrying her water containers. The sun was hot, and we offered ease their journey and give them a ride to the water pan.

     As soon as the girls got in the vehicle they started singing. Beautiful melodic voices. Listening to them, and remembering they only do one meal per day, I wondered where their energies were coming from, or maybe their bodies have adjusted to that reality.

     

     Children enjoy a trip to collect water

     On our way to the water point, we passed other villagers who were also heading to the dam with loads of clothes for laundry and water containers. The dam serves the entire village. Upon arrival, we found so many animals; camels, goats, donkeys, cows, and sheep all at the water point.

     Without wasting time, the girls jumped from the car and started quenching their thirst!   I watched them drink the water and was taken aback, the water was dirty and green! But this did not stop them from quenching their thirst. This was the first time they were drinking water in almost a week despite the high temperatures, and they could not wait.

     As I stood there observing all that was happening, I wondered whether the girls understood the danger that is looming because of drinking green water. When we enquired from them whether they know why the water is green, they seemed so very aware that it’s because the water is stagnant and the many animals from their village are continuously excreting in the dam. Unfortunately, it’s the only water they have, and nobody deserves to drink contaminated water!

     

     A Turkana couple gifts a chicken to a Samburu mother to their daughter’s friend

     While some were drinking the water, others were filling their water containers and others were dusting off and some had already started to do their laundry. After finishing their to-do list at the dam, they took the long-awaited shower, carried water-filled containers, and started a long trek back to school. Three hours later on our way from Ngilai village, we saw the girls halfway through on the journey back to school. They were under a shade taking a rest at the same time waiting for the sun to go down a little bit for it to be cooler for them to finish the remaining journey to school. We gave them some biscuits and proceeded with our journey back to Baragoi town.

     Why Our Work Matters

     On our way, we encountered a caravan of camels heading to drink water at the dam. Only drought resistant animals can survive the harsh dry weather. The cows and goats, though they are the core of pastoralist livelihood, are gradually becoming weak and are unable to cope with the dry weather.  The other girls and the women we found at the dam we saying they hope it will rain before the dam dries off as the animals feeding on it are many and the water related needs for the village are overwhelming.

     

     A Turkana man gifts a calabash to the Samburu woman who is a mother of his daughter’s friend

     Children Peace Initiative Kenya has been working in Baragoi since 2019 June implementing various projects supported by Rotary International, Ifa zivik and through collaboration with Advocacy Project who have been sending peace fellows every year to document the work done by CPI Kenya and to help in fundraising via global giving platform.

     Over the years, the program has connected 751 Turkana and Samburu families through children’s friends for peace, family twinning, goats and cows for peace shared by Samburu and Turkana families.  The community has continued to communicate and sustain the friendship across the two warring communities which is a great incentive for peace.

     Although the program implementations had challenges due to covid-19 guidelines, the children and families involved did not allow that year gap to come on the way to their friendship. They took advantage of mobile network and used phones to reach out to each other during the pandemic.

     We are confident that the work we are doing in Baragoi will continue bearing more fruits and one day the communities will change the narrative of how the story ends for the Baragoi community in line with peace and conflict.

     

     Beneficiaries of the Children Peace Project during inter community training supported by Rotary

      

268. 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.”

269. 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.

              

270. Women’s Work and Theories of Change

     2:11 am 2 Comments

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

     

     Meeting at the BASE office

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

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

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

     

     Inside the BASE office

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     

     Miteri friendship

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

     

     The Tik Tok team

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

271. The Power of Advocacy and Solidarity

     July 7, 2022 2:46 pm 3 Comments

     America is in a state of emergency— women are undergoing a direct war on reproductive health going back on a nearly 50-year precedent, attacking human rights across America. Millions of people across the nation are absorbing the news of the Supreme Court’s decision to overturn Roe v Wade and thousands across the world are witnessing the spectacle of the Supreme Court.

     Millions of women across the nation are absorbing the news of the Supreme Court’s decision simply because for many, Roe v Wade was about more than abortion, it was about freedom and recognizing that the abolition of human rights will not stop there, especially with a government that fails to put the people first. 

     The criminalization of abortion and access to care affects more than just the people who seek those particular forms of care— it criminalizes and reduces access to health equity and safety for communities, especially for women of color. As a Latina woman, the daughter of immigrants, and growing up in a very progressive state like California I recognize the privilege of living in a state upholding reproductive rights and care. But as a woman and a person of color, I fear and stand in solidarity with the thousands of women, women of color, and low-income populations who are disproportionately affected by higher rates of abortions inflicted systemically, driven by a lack of access to and effective use of contraceptives. Women live in states actively working against their fundamental human right to bodily autonomy.

     Too quickly as a society, we forget that we can be actors of change. As people take the streets of America to mobilize themselves for their rights, we can see that more than ever solidarity and mutual aid is essential amongst all people. This issue affects us all, the power must be restored to the people. 

     In these times, more than ever, I find hope and admiration for the determination and power in kindness— on June 17, 2022, the efforts by the Girl Up Club at Wakefield High School who took the initiative to sell home-made soap on the streets of Arlington, Virginia and raised over $682 for an education fund for girls in Zimbabwe can teach us the power of solidarity. The socio-economic conditions in Zimbabwe have limited the ability to obtain education for many young women in their communities. They are quick to work or get married in an attempt to help their families in poverty— these limitations have created a network of solidarity that we see in the Women’s Advocacy Project. During times like these, the girls in Arlington and Zimbabwe pave the way for a blueprint of what solidarity looks like across women transnationally and push me to join together to support the fight for human rights. 

     In a nation where the right to carry a gun is more protected by the highest court of the law, following a decade of mass shootings, where the government is ending the EPA’s ability to regulate greenhouse gas pollution during a mass climate crisis, it is important to turn to each other and recognize the power of the people. When people come together to take on the crisis, you are organizing and becoming agents of change rather than merely surviving. What mutual aid networks achieve is it breaks the stigma and isolation of the problem and instead supports the vulnerable population and instead mobilizes them.

272. Watch the Arlington Soap-sellers at Work!

     10:43 am Leave a Comment

     Watch the Arlington Soap-sellers at Work!

273. “I want to go home. I want my brother”

     10:39 am 2 Comments

     

     Debris left behind after people fled when gunshots were fired during the July 4th fireworks show in Philadelphia. (Steven M. Falk/The Philadelphia Inquirer via AP)

      

     I met Adam Monday night July 4th in a random apartment building on the Parkway in Philadelphia. His head rested in his hands, his feet shook, and his voice whimpered. As an unsettling bombardment of fireworks and gunshots fired 50 feet away from us, I walked up to him, and he looked up to me. The words barely tumbled out of his mouth, the shock still placed on his young shoulders as he said to me, a near stranger, “I want to go home. I want my brother.”

     There was an active shooter less than a three minute walk from where we were. Adam’s parents weren’t answering his calls and he couldn’t find his brother. They, like my friend group and many others, fled from the Philadelphia Museum of Art and were separated when shots were fired nearby around 9:47 pm Monday night. A few gun shots had punctured the blissful serenity of July 4th, causing a blend of fear, adrenaline, and anxiety to gush out in a wave of petrified emotions, all of which twisted throughout Adam. 

      

     

     My friends and I shelter in place in a building three minutes away from the shooting

      

     Despite the chaos, the national media has scarcely reported on the shooting in Philadelphia as it does not qualify as a mass shooting. Therein lies the problem: while a disturbing epidemic, mass shootings account for a sliver of a fraction of a minority of gun deaths in the U.S. The larger issue, the one rarely focused on, are daily shootings like the one in Philadelphia where “only” a few people are injured or killed. To date in 2022, over 22,000 people have died as a result of non-mass shooting gun deaths compared with the 340 people murdered as a result of mass shootings. These events, unfortunately, have led to hundreds of Adams throughout the United States.

     These statistics paint an explicit picture: the U.S. has a gun problem predominantly centered on suicides and handguns, not mass shootings and AR-15s. Maps displaying mass shootings are shocking; maps showing the number of deaths from all shootings appalling. Solving the mass shooting epidemic must go hand-in-hand with the handgun epidemic. This isn’t to diminish the atrocity of a mass shooting, only to point out that, unfortunately, there exists much more that is wrong in our country and much more that we can do.

      

     

     Map of all gun deaths in the U.S. in 2022. (gunviolencearchive.com)

      

     The depressing irony between my experience this week and my work isn’t lost on me. My partner in the field, Julia Holladay, has worked tirelessly with Children’s Peace Initiative Kenya (CPIK) to help African tribes end their feuding, partly driven by the use of guns. And yet, it was me, not Julia, receiving a text expressing gratitude that I was safe. It was me, not Julia, spending a late night and into the early morning reuniting a ten year old with his family. It was me, the one living in suburban Philadelphia and not Julia in Kenya, who was just a few feet away from a live shooting.

     Solving this larger gun problem first requires a cultural shift by the media, politicians, and everyday individuals to focus on mass shootings as well as other gun violence. 

     One institutional based idea inspired by my work for CPIK: instituting community based gun buyback programs which will create a difficult to attain, yet possible balance between respecting gun rights and promoting safety for non-mass shooting violence. The appeal of gun buyback programs lies in their ability to simultaneously reduce the amount of guns in a community, provide a method to safely dispose of firearms, and, importantly, to lead to a cultural shift away from guns.

     The need for a solution became painstakingly clear when I woke up the morning after the fourth to a phone call from an unknown number. The voice on the other line sounded young and shy, no more than six years old. He said to me, “Hi, I am Adam’s brother. Thank you for helping him and his brother get home safe.” He hung up before I could reply, the silence permeating the now empty airwaves. 

     While thankful that Adam and his brother were home safe, I couldn’t help but replay Adam’s fearful words from the building lobby I had found him in just a few hours earlier: “Why is this happening? Is it safe to leave now?”

274. 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….

275. Master Trainers and Post-Training Reflection

     July 2, 2022 1:24 am 1 Comment

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

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

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

     

     Kushma and Kanchan scanning the Tulsipur skyline

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

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

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

     

     Kushma guiding a trainee through a stitch

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

     

     Kanchan helping to rethread a needle

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

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

     

     Kanchan translating into Nepali

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

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

     

     Kanchan’s design of the trainers’ arrival in Dang

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

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

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

     

     Kushma holding her work

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

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

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

     

     Writing profiles of the trainers

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

276. 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!

      

277. Climate Change is Already Impacting Our Most Vulnerable

     2:06 pm 1 Comment

     Shahed and I met for the first time on a Zoom call just a couple of weeks ago, yet spending time with him feels like catching up with an old friend. Before joining The Advocacy Project, I had heard about how wonderful he is from our project manager, Delaney. Rumor has it that his photography skills are unparalleled, and his heart is as vast as the sky. Being an activist to his core, Shahed has relentlessly stood up to oppressive authorities to protect the most vulnerable around him. You can get a glimpse into Shahed’s mind through his favorite art form–poetry. I encourage you to do so here, where readers can experience Shahed’s journey to Mayadip Island.

     Shahed (center) at an Education Meeting. Matthew Becker, 2012 Peace Fellow, Subornogram Foundation, Sonargaon, Bangladesh

     This past Wednesday, The AP team and I logged onto Zoom for our weekly meeting with Shahed, a virtual gathering space for planning projects, sharing stories, and the occasional teasing (all in good humor). We exchange greetings. 

     “How have you been?” I ask Shahed. 

     “Not that good” – the response was immediate. “Bangladesh is flooding and hundreds have been killed.” To make matters worse, Shahed reported that entire towns have submerged beneath the surface, families have been violently swept up by the waters, and millions are trying to stay afloat. It has been deemed the worst flooding in recent Bangladesh history. Despite the ongoing environmental crisis ravaging his homeland, he still managed to keep a buoyancy to his words, a testament to his resilient spirit. If I had not seen the news about the floods in Bangladesh beforehand, Shahed’s stoicism would have fooled me into believing that everything was normal. 

     However, for the small island of Mayadip, Bangladesh, “normal” now encompasses the hardships of climate change. The Monsoon season has resulted in erratic patterns of precipitation and flooding, while rising sea levels threaten the very existence of the Mayadip community. Unfortunately, the River Gypsies of Mayadip are no stranger to environmental and human threats. Many families struggle to make ends meet, with most earning less than $2 (USD) per day. Illiteracy rates are high. If families are able to access food, it usually consists of fish from the Meghna River–there is no arable land on the island to produce sufficient crop yields. Furthermore, the precious sand of Mayadip has been stolen by dredgers, which has been deemed a human rights violation by the United Nations. 

     Sonargaon River Gypsy Children. Matthew Becker, 2012 Peace Fellow, Subornogram Foundation, Sonargaon, Bangladesh

     Now, due to climate change, the already vulnerable community of Mayadip is threatened by the very waters that sustain their families. For Mayadip’s neighbors on the mainland, hundreds of thousands of homes are submerged underwater. More than 7 million people in Bangladesh are in dire need of emergency relief. Families are being torn apart, with some questioning whether they will see their loved ones again. What was a simple question to Shahed became an alarming response, a reminder that the catastrophic effects of climate change are disproportionately affecting some of our most vulnerable communities and will continue to do so until we all bear the consequences. If there is any chance of supporting our most vulnerable friends across the world, we must change our ways. In fact, it should have been done decades ago. Here at AP, we are trying to brainstorm ways to implement a project in Bangladesh that addresses the climate crisis. But in our private lives, we have to invest in new ways of sustainable living. We must elect, and be, leaders who are willing to act boldly and in good faith. We must do it for Shahed, we must do it for the unseen neighbor, and we must do it for ourselves. 

     The International Federation of Red Cross (IFRC) has launched an emergency appeal to provide relief to those affected by the Bangladesh floods: https://www.ifrc.org/emergency/bangladesh-floods 

278. The Dang Embroidery Training

     June 28, 2022 1:07 pm 1 Comment

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

     

     Anticipation on day 1

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

     

     Sharing an AP catalogue with participants

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

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

     

     Designs transferred to fabric with carbon paper

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

     

     Getting the right tension on the hoops

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

     

     Kanchan modeling proper stitches

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

     

     Providing feedback

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

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

     

     Splitting embroidery floss into threads

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

     

     Checking arch others progress

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

     

     A job well done!

279. 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.

      

280. The Future of the Bardiya Embroidery Cooperative

     June 25, 2022 3:00 am 1 Comment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     

     Freshly planted rice paddies

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

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

     

     Inspecting embroidery materials

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

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

     

     Looking through an AP catalogue

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

     

     Visiting with Neeta and her mother

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

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

     

     Laughing through our photo shoot

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

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

281. Challenges of Setting Up a New Facility

     June 23, 2022 5:46 pm 1 Comment

     I began my Summer by helping WAP set up their new facility for the soap project. Recently as sales grew, WAP invested in a larger facility that will allow them to meet their growing production needs. Ambitiously, we devised a plan of attack to have the facility up and running within a week. Unfortunately, we have encountered many unforeseen challenges. For some setbacks, we were able to mitigate them entirely and find robust long-term solutions. At the same time, for some other tasks, we were forced to pause and reevaluate our strategies.

     Transport challenge:

     Right off the bat, we faced one of the biggest challenges when WAP’s vehicle broke down. That vehicle was used to meet all WAP’s transport needs, such as bringing WAP participants to the facility for productions and meetings, visiting vendors to acquire raw materials, delivering soaps to the markets, and going to the communities that WAP serves. Aside from interruption to its routine duties, not having a working vehicle had also caused tremendous stress in setting up the new facility. To combat this challenge short-term, we rented a vehicle to continue the work. Though car rental was a temporary solution, it was becoming very costly. WAP was paying around USD 100 a week. Understanding the urgent need for a vehicle, we prioritized our task to finding a long-term transport solution. While the old car was being diagnosed, we identified an organization looking to donate a vehicle in the Harare area. We took this opportunity seriously and submitted a very compelling application. Though the competition was steep, WAP won the battle to receive the vehicle donation. With this achievement, we felt relieved and moved forward to working towards our goals.

     Water challenge:

     Another big hurdle was having a reliable water source at the new facility. Overall, in Zimbabwe, water shortage is a huge challenge. Water provided by the government is not safe for consumption or available all the time. Therefore, many Zimbabweans take it upon themselves to find a solution for their water needs. A very popular option is borehole water. For USD 40, government permits people to have borehole drilling in their lands to tap into naturally occurring underground water. Many prefer this water source because it is a long-term solution.

     As soap production requires a lot of water, WAP and I wanted to explore the borehole drilling possibility. For two days, we visited many borehole drilling companies in Harare and got an idea of how much it would cost. After discussing and analyzing the budget, we recognized that WAP couldn’t afford to invest in borehole water at this time. Therefore, we decided to buy water for production temporarily while working on raising funds for borehole drilling as soon as possible.

     Electricity challenge:

     The third obstacle was setting up electricity in the new facility. Like water, electricity is not reliable and accessible at all times in Harare. Frequent power cuts are very common. Depending on the area, some people will experience more power cuts than others. Many Zimbabweans invest in solar panels to take advantage of year-round sunshine as a backup energy source to combat this issue.

     WAP also invested in solar panels to power up the new facility. Unfortunately, after using it only for a month, the battery that connected the solar energy to the new facility stopped working. WAP suspected the battery sold to them might have been old, though they paid for a new one. WAP and I visited the shop that sold the battery, but the shopkeeper was not cooperative. After multiple failed attempts to get the battery fixed or replaced, we decided to pay him one last visit. This time, we were prepared to file a complaint against him in a police station if he refused to honor the warranty terms. Luckily, the shopkeeper agreed to order a replacement battery and committed to delivering it within two weeks. Though the whole process was very frustrating, we are closer to resolving the issues now. For me, personally, this interaction with the shopkeeper was a learning opportunity to understand how to navigate a tricky situation like that in a completely new culture.

     Internet challenge:

     Lastly, the challenge of establishing an internet connection at the new facility remains unresolved. Since the new facility is in a very new area, as of now, there is only one internet provider. Currently, the internet company is providing only 100 network lines in the area. This number has been exhausted already. There is a plan to extend the service line, but the network company is not sure when. Therefore, at this point, WAP plans to put its name down on the waiting list, hoping that when the network extends, we will have access to the internet. For the time being, we have been using my house as an office for all internet needs, such as conducting research and attending meetings.

     Overall, there were many setbacks, but we have made tangible progress so far. We have successfully resumed production and are set to meet our production targets for the year. These challenges have taught us many valuable lessons as an organization. At a personal level, I found these setbacks allowed me to enhance my leadership skills, such as quick thinking, adapting, and evaluating short- and long-term solutions. Most of all, I learned to move towards bigger goals with agility and practicality.

282. Sparking Flames of Peace

     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.

283. Clean Girl Soap Unites Girls in the US and Zimbabwe

     3:34 pm Leave a Comment

     Clean Girl Soap Unites Girls in the US and Zimbabwe

284. How Many Hours On a Bus?

     June 20, 2022 10:58 pm 1 Comment

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

     

     Leaving the Kathmandu bus station

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

     

     A “road king” truck

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

     

     Leaving Kathmandu valley

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

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

     

     Music video entertainment

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

     

     Bus snack vendors

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

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

     

     Parked on the road

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

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

     

     Parked on the road, but at night

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

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

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

     

     Before sunrise stop

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

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

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

     

     Changing scenery

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

     

     Made it to the hotel

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

     We had arrived in Bardiya.

285. Disappearances and Stories Without an End

     June 18, 2022 8:36 am 1 Comment

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

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

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

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

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

     

     Paying respects

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

     

     Civil society and government speakers

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

     

     Roomful of attendees

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

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

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

     

     Family members with the portraits of their loved ones

286. 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?

287. First Week in Recap

     June 15, 2022 4:40 pm 1 Comment

     After making a journey across three continents, three countries, four flights, and 22 hours later, I finally arrived in Harare, Zimbabwe. With so many mixed emotions running through me, I got my visa and went through the exit door, looking for someone waiting with my name. After looking around for roughly five minutes, I saw someone standing on the corner, scrolling through his phone in one hand and a cardboard sign that said, “Dewa Sharep” on the other. Now, living in the U.S. for ten years and going to Starbucks thousands of times had paid off for this moment. I was used to people misspelling my name. Therefore, with much confidence, I approached him to confirm. Indeed, he was waiting for me. With a bit of relief that the pickup arrangement I made through multiple disconnected Skype calls actually worked, I sat in my taxi to head towards the hotel.

     My driver’s name was Tutende; he was a mid- 20s gentleman working as a taxi driver part-time while studying at the University of Zimbabwe. I appreciated that Tutende was very talkative because the moment I sat in his car, I had so many questions to ask. One of the first things I noticed in his car was the navigation display system. It was in one of the Chinese languages, possibly in Mandarin. With a bit of surprise and curiosity, I asked if he was learning Chinese, which is why he set up his navigation panel to be in Chinese. He laughed and responded that he wasn’t, in fact, the navigation panel came installed in Chinese from the factory, and there is no function to change that to English. This chat sparked a deeper conversation about rising Chinese businesses and products that are now part of the Zimbabwe market. Tutende mentioned that China covers markets such as automobiles, electronics, household appliances, and security surveillance products. He further talked about the rising number of Chinese travelers to Zimbabwe for trade purposes. This actually made him think that I was Chinese as well.  In my classes, I had studied about China’s international relations strategies, such as Belt and Road Initiative, cyber policies, and alliance building in Africa and Latin America. Therefore, hearing and seeing a small testimony of that was very eye-opening.

     

     Display panel of Tutende’s car in Chinese language.

     After 30 mins of really good conversation, we arrived at my hotel. I felt like just being in this country for less than an hour, I had begun to learn so much already, and it made me even more excited for all that was to come. Thanking for a smooth drive and great conversation, I said goodbye to Tutende and checked into my hotel. After resting for a bit, I grabbed a menu in my room to order dinner. I ordered chicken, rice, and vegetables plate. I had no clue how much it would cost because the menu didn’t have prices listed. Though I thought it was odd, I was too hungry to care at that moment. When the food arrived, it was warm, delicious, and fresh. The server said the food cost me USD 9. Since this was my first meal, I wasn’t too sure if it was considered expensive or reasonable.

     

     My first dinner in Harare: rice, chicken, and vegetables

     The next morning, I went down to the hotel restaurant to have some breakfast. I ordered some eggs, toast, and sausages. It was delicious, but I couldn’t finish it all. Feeling full, I asked for my bill. The server came to my table and said it was USD 22. I gave her an instant shocking reaction, and with a bit of confusion, I asked, “Are you sure this is my bill? I paid USD 9 for dinner last night.” She paused for a bit, looked at my plate, and said, “since you didn’t eat much, you can pay only USD 10.” At this point, I didn’t get the logic, but I wasn’t going to argue if it meant I was not paying USD 22 for a simple breakfast. Scratching my head and puzzled, I paid the bill and returned to my room. For the next two days, while I was still too tired to go out of the hotel, this fiasco of meal prices kept on going. It had turned into a price guessing game for me.  Depending on the server, I was charged differently for a similar meal. Sometimes I paid USD 10 for a meal, sometimes USD 15, and sometimes USD 22. Whenever I would pay less than USD 10 for a meal, I felt a sense of victory. I tried talking to the servers to understand the prices a couple of times, but they always had some reasons to explain.

     After resting for a couple of days, it was time for me to get out of my cocoon and meet the head of my organization, Constance and Dickson. It was an instant friendship and comfort with these wonderful leaders. While conversing with them about my stay so far, I talked to them about the dismay I felt about the meal prices. After hearing everything, they expressed that some servers might have taken advantage and charged unreasonable prices because I was a foreigner. They said the average meal price should be under USD 10. That was it! After this point, I was done being a prey of the meal price scam saga. There was no way I was going to eat at that hotel anymore. So, I ventured out to explore the beautiful and vibrant city of Harare and found terrific local restaurants to eat at. I tried traditional foods such as sadza with chicken and vegetable stew. On average, my meals cost under USD 9. I became a happy foodie onwards!

     Finally, it was time for apartment hunting! Though I had done some research online before coming to Harare, nothing prepared me for what was coming. The rent prices here took me back to my New York City days when I was paying around USD 1,000 for a single room in a four-bedroom apartment. Yes! The Harare housing market is incomprehensibly expensive! Constance, Dickson, and I looked through around ten places, and nothing was under USD 1000. In a decent neighborhood, a one-bedroom apartment rent ranges from USD 1,200 to USD 3,800. It wasn’t just a shock to me; Dickson and Constance also couldn’t believe the rise in rent prices. Finally, after giving up all hopes while preparing to pay USD 1,200 for a one-bedroom apartment, one very generous offer came my way. A gentleman who had a three-bedroom apartment offered to rent me his place for less than USD 1,000 a month. It was a miracle! I was struggling to find even a one-bedroom apartment for that price; here, he offered me a three-bedroom apartment. This gentleman’s name was Reg. He was one of the kindest people I have ever known. Reg said after hearing about my purpose to be in Harare, the work I came to do, and understanding that I am a student, he had lowered the rent to help out.

     

     Picture of Constance and Dickson negotiating to lower the rent amount.

     

     While Dickson was negotiating for rent, Constance and I had to sit down and rest. It was our 6th apartment visit of that day.

     Today, as I sit here in my beautiful apartment writing this blog, I am still processing how expensive Zimbabwe is. Compared to many other Sub-Saharan African countries, Zimbabwe has higher prices in housing, food, gas, school, and almost every sector. In a country where 80-90% of the people work in an informal economy where income streams are not steady, and the average monthly income is just around USD 250 a month, I cannot fathom the imbalance. Through this blog, you can see that I am keen to learn more about the economic situation of this country and want to do more research about its resiliency, and the mechanisms Zimbabwean people employ to combat chronic economic challenges. I will dedicate another blog on this topic in future, stay tuned…

     

     My Zimbabwean home for the next two months.

288. The Loneliness of Albinism

     June 14, 2022 12:02 pm Leave a Comment

     The Loneliness of Albinism

289. Hello from an AP Peace Fellow in Nepal

     June 13, 2022 8:59 am 1 Comment

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

     

     A peak of the Himalayas

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

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

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

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

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

     

     Boudhanath Stupa in Kathmandu

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

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

      

290. 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

291. Dancing, Posho, Desserts, and Sign Language

     June 6, 2022 5:58 am 3 Comments

     My time here in Gulu with the Gulu Disabled Persons Union (GDPU) has thus far been nothing short of incredible. The staff, Emma, Mary, Brenda, Ruth, Walter, Patrick, Charles, and Faruk continue to welcome me with kindness and smiles on a daily basis, making work at GDPU seem more and more like a place I can see myself spending far more than ten weeks.

     While I have experienced many new things, perhaps my favorite is spending time with the students in their classes. Here at GDPU, there are over 65 students between the ages of 16 – 30 (some boarding while others are day scholars) who are beneficiaries of a UK-based organization grant which enables them to spend six months at GDPU. During these six months, the students take a course in a particular field in the hopes of assisting them pursue a career. Some of these courses include knitting, tailoring, boda boda (motorcycle) repair, phone repair, hair styling, and handicrafts.

     Due to the student’s disabilities and/or family’s financial status, all of them are no longer enrolled in school. Some have received very little to no schooling, with the opportunity to receive skills-based learning coming as a blessing to the students and their families. Not only does learning a new skill assist in establishing a career, but also allows the students to create friendships with other students with disabilities.

     Over the course of my time here, I have spent much of my time in Brenda’s knitting class and Charles’ boda boda repair class. Brenda’s class is composed of about a dozen students, all girls and Francis, an incredibly talented blind knitter who has a great sense of humor and a love of Gospel music. Charles’ class on the other hand is all boys, also about a dozen, with a third of them being deaf and communicating through sign language.

     

     Celebrating Emma’s Birthday at Aruu Falls

     Dancing

     During my second visit to Brenda’s class, I asked her students if they would like for me to play some music from my speaker. After an excited “YES!” we put on Apple Music’s Top 100: Uganda and danced, sang, and laughed. Since that day, it has become customary for me to bring my speaker to Brenda’s class and for the students to dance and enjoy, as well as watch the Mzungu attempt to dance.

     

     Salamay (L), Linda (R), and myself mid-dancing

     Posho

     The first couple of weeks, I found myself eating at Elephante Commons, a DELICIOUS restaurant across the street from GDPU. However, this past week, I decided that I’d rather spend my time eating lunch with the students at GDPU. Every day the students are served posho (or rice) and beans. While I was not fond of the posho (corn flour porridge) at first, I have developed a liking towards it and getting to speak to the students outside during lunch.

     Desserts

     With the money I saved from not eating out for the week, I decided to go to Elephante Commons and buy some desserts for some of the students. I purchased a dozen brownies and a dozen lemon bars which were INCREDIBLE. I gave them to the students, all of which had never tried a brownie or a lemon bar before. They were a HIT to say the least.

     Sign Language

     During my first visit to Charles’ class, I was greeted by all of the boys. Upon arrival, the students introduced themselves to me either through speech or sign language, and after class, spent time teaching me sign language which was an incredible experience. While I still have a lot to learn, I have been practicing, allowing me to greet and communicate with all students at GDPU.

     

292. Understanding Cultures Beyond Assumptions

     June 5, 2022 6:16 pm 1 Comment

     I grew up in a beautiful country called Nepal and moved to the U.S. around ten years ago. I belong to a tribe called Sherpa, known as fearless mountaineers. Therefore, like most Sherpas living abroad, I have been asked multiple times if I have climbed Mount Everest yet. My answer always is, “No, I have not.” Although I appreciate that this question works as an ice breaker for many conversations, I sometimes sense that people have a hint of disappointment with my answer. Perhaps, those who have never visited Nepal assume that for Sherpas, climbing mountains is a very casual activity; therefore, everyone must have done that.

     Though the question never bothered me, it made me realize that very little is known about who Sherpas are and their struggles. Maybe this is because the media mostly highlights triumphant climbs that create world records by pushing the boundaries of what is possible. Sadly, that’s not the complete story. Many successful summits have tragic stories that don’t make it to the front pages of newspapers. Underneath those breathtakingly beautiful mountains, many lives have disappeared, leaving behind struggling family members. On average, according to World Economic Forum, some of the mountains of Nepal, such as Mount Everest, Annapurna, and Kangchenjunga, have a fatality rate of 14.1%, 29%, and 29.1%, respectively.

     Climbing is a risky choice that many Sherpas have to make for their livelihoods. Inspite of knowing the risks all too well and witnessing the consequences, every year, thousands of Sherpas go on expeditions, betting with their lives and testing their destiny time and again. Therefore, when people ask any Sherpas if they have climbed Mount Everest just because they belong to the Sherpa community, the question assumes that Sherpas are born with the inherent ability to climb mountains. This notion discounts and overlooks the years of training, hardships, sacrifices, and struggles that go into becoming expert climbers. Additionally, this question also implies that the ones who haven’t climbed aren’t Sherpa enough. Mountaineering is not the only identity of Sherpas. It is an ethnic community with distinct traditions and rich culture as well.

     Sometimes, the most straightforward question can provoke the deepest understanding. And through my own experience, I have learned not to assume and be mindful of the questions I ask while learning about a new culture. The best way to gain a new perspective is by traveling, engaging with locals, and through immersive experiences. When you visit a country to understand its culture and people, your learnings are based on the reality of the grounds, which is more profound than the knowledge you get through passive outlets such as television, books, or news articles alone.

     For me, this summer is another opportunity to challenge my preconceived notions and gain perspective about a new culture. I will be in a continent that I know very little about and a country so different from the one I grew up in. As an AP Peace Fellow, I will be in Harare, Zimbabwe, working with the Women Advocacy Project (WAP), supporting their efforts to abolish early child marriage practices. This fellowship is symbolic in many ways. Firstly, this will be my first ever travel to an African country. Second, working with WAP also marks as my first assignment in this new career path I embarked on last year after quitting five years of a corporate job. Lastly, and most importantly, through WAP, I will be able to contribute towards a cause that I resonate with and advocate for, women’s education and entrepreneurship. Overall, I am looking forward to broadening my perspective and learning about Zimbabwe, and understanding the similarities and differences between Nepal and Zimbabwe in issues such as early child marriages, education, poverty, and gender disparities. Let the journey begin…

         

      

      

      

      

      

      

      

293. 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.

      

      

294. “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!

295. 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.

296. 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.

297. 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!!

298. An Unforgettable Flight

     May 25, 2022 11:08 am 1 Comment

     While I fly quite frequently, I often find the experience unenjoyable; cramped seats, crying children, and relatively untasteful food don’t add to the experience. However, on my flydubai flight from Dubai to Entebbe, the capital of Uganda, I experienced a memorable flight for all the right reasons; unmatched kindness, laughter, and stories, that will reside in me for a very long time.

     Prior to boarding, I struck up conversation with two girls who were sitting next to me at the gate. They were also in their 20’s, Indian-Kenyan friends residing in Uganda due to their families changing business operations. They had both longed for an escape from the chaos of Kampala and had set out on a week-long vacation in Dubai. They expressed their disappointment with flydubai’s business class, the airline losing their baggage, flydubai swapping our airport last minute from Dubai International to the uncompleted Dubai World Central, and the sadness of returning to Kampala which was supposedly inferior to Nairobi. After our quick conversation, we swapped Instagram handles and began the boarding process.

     A bus took us from the gate to the plane. After waving goodbye to the two girls as I walked past them in row one, I made my way to my seat in economy. The boarding experience took a turn for the worst when the girl sitting in my window seat refused to move. After I showed her my ticket and told her it was my seat, she told me she wanted the window and didn’t want the middle. As I explained that I also did not want the middle, the girl on the aisle moved to the middle and said, “don’t worry, any seat is fine for me.” Her name was Mariam.

     Mariam, named after Mother Marie, is in her late twenties and is a Born-Again Christian from the outskirts of Kampala. While her dream is to be an author and to study psychology at university, that dream remains out of reach for now. For the last 2.5 years, Mariam worked as a housekeeper in Salalah, Oman. She expressed how challenging the work is and that it is constant, working 7 days a week as early as 5 or 6 in the morning, to late in the evening. Her contract states she must stay with one family for at least two years, but she has yet to fulfil that. She expressed that some of the families are so horrific she has to find another to work with so she can leave, even if it means not finishing her contract. While her free time is incredibly limited, she enjoys studying psychology and geography. While her contract is not yet finished, she hopes to spend as much time with her family and warn others how horrific the work is for Africans in the Arab world.

     Next to Mariam in the window seat was Sarah from Mbarara, the second largest city in Uganda after Kampala. In retrospect, I am happy she had the window seat. While shy, Sarah was kind and had a contagious smile. She was returning home after a few years doing domestic work in Abu Dhabi and was ecstatic to be returning home to say the least. During the descent she kept repeating, “I’m almost home, I’m almost home” and was clapping and screaming when we made our landing.

     

     Sarah (left), Mariam (center), and myself 

     Sitting behind me was Shifa who ended up becoming a very good friend. Shifa is also 22 years old and spent the last couple of years in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. At first glance I thought she was Muslim since she had her hair covered with a hijab. In response to my curiosity, I asked her if she was Muslim to which she replied with an outburst of laughter. She told me that Uganda is a predominantly Christian country, and that most women had their hair covered on the flight because they were coming from Arab countries and were embarrassed to show off how knotted their hair had become.

     Shifa worked in sales in Riyadh and expressed how difficult it was to adjust to the strict lifestyle. In addition to the horrific racism in Saudi Arabia where Africans are viewed as property more than people, Shifa said “Blacks are treated the worst, worse than the women and much worse than the camels.” It was shocking to hear how camels were valued more than women, and how according to Shifa, men have more compassion towards their camels than their own wives with the pyramid of rights being men, camels, women, then blacks. While there have been major changes within Saudi Arabia in the past few years, almost all people Shifa interacted with expressed disapproval towards Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman’s wishes to modernize the country. What shocked me most is when Shifa mentioned that if a Saudi attacks an African verbally or physically for no reason and the African defends themselves, the African will face time in prison or even death while the Saudi faces no penalty. Horrifically, it is very common in Saudi Arabia to kill African workers if they’re not doing their work properly or to punish them by gagging, lashes, or locking them away.

     

     Shifa and I with a photobomber

     I am overjoyed that Shifa, Mariam, and Sarah were able to make their way back home. However, this is not the case for many African workers who go “missing” or are killed on the daily. Both Arab and African heads of states must be held accountable for pushing for this horrific form of modern-day slavery and I believe that there should be a further push for all African countries to introduce e-passports since many African workers have their passports seized on arrival.

299. 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).

300. Communities Plug the Vaccine Gap as COVID Threat Persists in the Global South

     May 17, 2022 11:36 am Leave a Comment

     Communities Plug the Vaccine Gap as COVID Threat Persists in the Global South

301. 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.

302. Kenyan Art Quilts Raise Over $12,000 For Community Action In Nairobi

     April 19, 2022 10:42 am Leave a Comment

     Kenyan Art Quilts Raise Over $12,000 For Community Action In Nairobi

303. US Disdain for the International Criminal Court Weakens the Prosecution of War Crimes in Ukraine

     April 15, 2022 9:28 am Leave a Comment

     US Disdain for the International Criminal Court Weakens the Prosecution of War Crimes in Ukraine

304. 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

      

305. Stella’s Worms Drive Composting In Kibera, Nairobi

     April 4, 2022 10:28 am Leave a Comment

     Stella’s Worms Drive Composting In Kibera, Nairobi

306. Kenyan Art Quilts Auction Now Open!

     March 9, 2022 10:29 am Leave a Comment

     Kenyan Art Quilts Auction Now Open! Click ‘Read More’ to view!

307. Kenyan Art Quilts To Be Displayed and Auctioned

     February 28, 2022 11:27 am Leave a Comment

     Kenyan Art Quilts To Be Displayed and Auctioned

308. Rubpan’s Fish Curry

     February 12, 2022 4:43 pm Leave a Comment

     Saleha (left) and Rubpan cook for the Subornogram community feeding kitchen on Mayadip and prepare a hot meal every day for families in need. Rupban’s fish curry is famous on the island and we invite you to try it out and let us know what you think! It may be a bit hot and spicy for some, so make sure to adjust to your own taste!
     

      

     

      

     Ingredients:

     Firm white fish (such as cod) – 1.5 lbs

     Potatoes, cubed – 2

     Onions – 4 small or 2 large

     Tomatoes, chopped – 2

     Cilantro leaves – 3 tablespoons

     Turmeric powder – 2 Teaspoons, divided (Turmeric is added 3 different times)

     Salt to taste- about 2 Teaspoons, divided (Salt is added 3 different times)

     Red chili powder – 2-3 Teaspoons, divided (Red chili powder is added 3 different times)

     Cinnamon stick – 2/3 of one stick

     Cumin seeds – 1 Teaspoon

     Dry red chili, any variety – 1

     Bay leaf – 1

     Star anise – 1

     Green cardamom – 2 pods

     Cloves – 6-7

     Ginger garlic paste – Finely chop 2 Tbs fresh ginger root and 4 large garlic cloves, mash together

     Cumin powder – 1 Teaspoon

     Coriander powder – 1.5 Teaspoons

     Garam masala – 2 Teaspoons, divided (Garam masala is added 2 different times)

     Red chili paste – 1 Tablespoon

     Black pepper powder – 3/4 Teaspoon

     Green chili – 1 3oz tin

     Ghee – 1 Tablespoon

     Mustard oil, Soyabean oil, or Canola oil – 6-7 Table Spoon, divided (Oil is used twice)

     Water- About 1 – 1½ cups

     Cooking

     Marinate the fish with turmeric powder  (½ teaspoon), salt (½ teaspoon), red chili powder  (1 teaspoon), oil (2 tablespoons) Let this rest for 2 hours.

     Marinate the potato with little salt (½ teaspoon) & turmeric powder(½ teaspoon),.

     Heat a pan add 5 Table Spoon oil & let heat, add marinated potato & fry till golden brown, take potatoes out from oil now add whole spices (7 Italicized ingredients) into the oil & fry for few seconds. Then add chopped onion & fry till golden brown, now add ginger garlic paste & fry for 2 min, add turmeric powder (1 teaspoon)  & red chili powder (1 teaspoon) & fry for 1 min.

     Add a little water & mix well, add cumin powder, coriander powder, garam masala (1 teaspoon),  mix well, add red chili paste & chopped tomatoes, add salt to taste (½ to 1 teaspoon)   & mix well cover the pan & cook for 3-4 min. After 4 min stir it & fry it for another 2 min, now add the fish & fried potatoes.

     Mix well & fry for 6-7 min after 7 min adds water for gravy, garam masala (1 teaspoon), black pepper powder, green chili, ghee & coriander leaves mix well. Then cover the pan & cook for 10 min on low flame after 10 min turns off the flame, garnish with coriander leaves & serve hot with roti/rice.

     Enjoy!

     Email us with feedback! DCoffice@advocacynet.org

      

309. The Good Ship Mayadip Revives An Island Community In Bangladesh

     January 3, 2022 9:54 am Leave a Comment

     The Good Ship Mayadip Revives An Island Community In Bangladesh

310. Climate Change Pushes Pastoralists to the Brink in Northern Kenya

     November 4, 2021 7:53 am Leave a Comment

     Climate Change Pushes Pastoralists to the Brink in Northern Kenya

311. Village Volunteers Beat Back a COVID Surge in Midwest Nepal

     October 29, 2021 1:35 pm Leave a Comment

     Village Volunteers Beat Back a COVID Surge in Midwest Nepal

312. Barcelona Or Death!

     October 21, 2021 11:43 am Leave a Comment

     Barcelona Or Death!

313. COVID Anguish Turns to Vaccine Advocacy in Nairobi Settlement

     October 13, 2021 8:53 am Leave a Comment

     COVID Anguish Turns to Vaccine Advocacy in Nairobi Settlement

314. The New Face of Women’s Education in Afghanistan

     September 22, 2021 3:53 pm Leave a Comment

     The New Face of Women’s Education in Afghanistan

315. What the World Learned from Ebola in Liberia

     September 15, 2021 9:40 am Leave a Comment

     What the World Learned from Ebola in Liberia

316. Khady Mbengue

     September 9, 2021 3:07 pm Leave a Comment

     I’ve had the pleasure of meeting a few of the women that OPEN SARL works with in Thiaroye (a neighborhood in Dakar) over the past few months. AP and OPEN have been collaborating to host an embroidery project when a few women have started learning how to embroider. In line with other AP projects, this collaboration will support women affected by migration, helping them share their stories and empowering them to collaborate and work together toward a common goal.

     One of the first women I met was Khady Mbengue. Like many other women in the area she sells fruits and vegetables at small kiosks off of major roads in order to support her family. Her husband works as a Mason, but his income isn’t enough to support their child, her brother’s children, and her parents. She works tirelessly to supplement their income while raising her five year old, but it still isn’t enough. 

     Like most families in the area, Khady has two brothers who attempted to immigrate to the Canary Islands. One of our first days of training all of the women spoke about their experiences with loved ones taking the dangerous trip to the Canary Islands. Khady recounted her experience with her two brothers, both of whom attempted to immigrate.

     Her first brother, Ibrahima, left in 2020. He left in the night, selling most of his belongings to finance the trip. He left a wife and his one year old child. She didn’t hear from him for a number of days and found out later on that he died while at sea. With pain in her voice, she explained how the other men in the boat threw his body out to sea. They never found the body. There has been no closure for her or her family. Burial practices are very important in Islam and she worries that they will never be able to bury him. 

     Her second brother, Abdou Karim, left later the same year. While his life was spared, Khady explains that he came back a different person. Like most who attempt to migrate, the trip is difficult and many suffer from mental health issues upon return. A social taboo within Senegalese society, most people don’t talk about these issues and services are lacking. For Khady and her family, this has been a difficult new reality for them. Her brother doesn’t work, something she attributes to the change in her brother’s mental state. Without her two brothers, Khady and the rest of her family have had to work hard to support her parents and brother’s family. 

     Khady’s story exemplifies the pernicious effects that a lack of opportunity and stability can have on communities. All of the women I’ve spoken with in Thiaroye reference a lack of employment opportunities and the inability to support families that push their youth to make the dangerous journey across the Atlantic. While this phenomenon isn’t new, there has been a recent surge in the number of youth attempting to migrate to the Canary Islands in recent years. As Senegal experiences its most recent wave of covid-19, and the long-term economic impacts of the pandemic set in, it is likely that more and more Senegalese will attempt this route. 

     Senegalese projects must take a multi-pronged approach to migration in Senegal if they hope to address all of its ripple effects. One key issue chronically neglected is the impact migration has on family members. These projects must support local projects that engage youth and create viable employment opportunities, but they must also support projects initiated by family members negatively impacted by migration. There is a void left when migrants don’t return or return changed. It creates a burden on communities that can undermine development projects if left unaddressed. For Khady, like so many other women, these issues continue to affect their daily lives.

317. Introduction to Mayadip

     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…

318. I Almost Died of COVID-19

     September 8, 2021 9:41 pm Leave a Comment

      

     

     Emma, her son Josh and Ugandan friends celebrate the birthday of Anna Braverman, 2021 Peace Fellow, at Anna’s hotel in Gulu.

      

     It was such a horrible experience for me when I realized that I was COVID-19 positive.

     At first I thought my blood sugar and pressure was the one disturbing me and I went to the hospital not knowing and thinking that I was a suspect of covid-19. I got back home but there was no improvement in my health. It was getting worse until I had a chat with Anna (Braverman, Peace Fellow) and described to her how I was feeling.

     Anna encouraged me to get tested for corona virus and on the 18/August I was tested. The result came out positive. This brought a lot of worries and headache to myself. I felt like I would not see more days ahead of me. My life was at stake since I have not yet been vaccinated against Covid-19 .

     I already had difficulty in breathing. It was on and off and could worsen in the night. I felt like I carried some heavy loads on my chest. I suffered a serious headache and coldness and got an itching throat. I lost all my senses of smelling and my appetite went off completely for about one week.

     I was prescribed some medications by the doctors to help boost up my immunity and open up my chest so that I could breathe. I was told to have enough rest, drink a lot of water, sun-bathe every morning and do a lot of exercise to help my body function well. Every evening I would take a walk, jump and do skipping with the ropes.

     The covid-19 hit me badly. There are many negative things that people think. I was psychologically stressed because I thought that I was going to die and leave my (son) Josh and my family. I was also afraid that my mum who is HIV-positive would also die because we all have underlying conditions.

     I got all what I could do so that I get better, I ate a lot of fruits and local greens that could help me recover as soon as possible. The doctor gave me  his contact number and told me to call him whenever I had any questions. (He said that I should) if my condition got worse I should get back to the hospital immediately. I felt so bad and worried each and every moment thinking that if I am taken onto oxygen I could easily die. Most people that are put on oxygen they always die.

     But all in all I was very positive about life. My mother was very caring at the same time she was also scared that the situation might get worse. I isolated myself in one of the rooms though I couldn’t avoid my son Josh who is only four years old and very stubborn. I was wearing my face mask throughout, sanitizing and washing my hands all the time.

     Anna and Iain have been checking out on me all the time this makes me very strong and I feel loved and cared for. I was able to make it through despite that facts that I was very sick.

     When someone tests positive the best thing to do is to have faith and be close to the hospital and to always have a positive mind.

     I am looking forward to get vaccinated and urging other GDPU team members to get vaccinated. I will always continue to maintain all the standard operational procedures wherever I am.

     I thank God for protecting me and still keeping me to be alive. My sincere gratitude to all the AP team and GDPU team for praying for me and standing with me during the horrible time. May God continue to bless us all and protect us from this pandemic.

     Love from Ajok Emma

     “I isolated myself in one on the rooms though I couldn’t avoid my son Josh who is only four years old and very stubborn.”

      

      

319. 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.

320. Afghan Betrayal

     August 20, 2021 9:14 am Leave a Comment

     Afghan Betrayal

321. Returned Migrant Raps Experience – Diardiarou Mbeugeumeu

     August 18, 2021 5:33 pm Leave a Comment

     Ama Ndiaye Thiombane is a returned migrant from Sendou who works hard at an export warehouse in Dakar. I had the pleasure of meeting Ama on my first visit to Sendou. He was quiet and warm-hearted, telling me about his experience attempting to migrate to the Canary Islands. He explained that he wanted to be a rapper and had even rapped about his experience at sea. He expressed his desire to be a rapper, above all else, but wanted to find work that could support his parents. He knew that traveling to Spain would bring him the best opportunity to do this. 

     Ama has attempted to migrate to the Canary Islands in September 2020 and was unsuccessful. He started working at the warehouse three years ago. He says the work is good, but the pay isn’t enough. He says he is luckier than most. He is not sure what the future holds for him but said that he intends to stay in Senegal now, the trip was very hard for him.

     He hopes to spread the word about the difficulties he and others in his community face. His rap highlights the struggles many youth endure in Senegal and the difficult decisions they have to make. He acknowledges the emotional stress families experience when their loved ones risk migrating to Europe, and cautions others not to leave. His message, like so many others, paints a picture of the complex and difficult decision that most youth grapple with in Senegal. Ama explained that he is one of the lucky ones. He has decided to stay in Senegal and try to make a living. Many others have made the opposite decision. 

      

     Title: Diardiarou Mbeugeumeu “Lived in immigration”

     Artist: Papa Mbissa Boy (Ama Ndiaye Thiombane)

     Lyrics:

     I take the boat,

     To go to Spain

     Death or Barça

     Senegal is hard

      

     The youth wanted to go to help their families

     The poor do not accept to die of poverty, for what? 

     Because if you don’t have the money,

     Nobody takes you seriously

      

     If you’re sick,

     You don’t have money to take care of yourself

     Stroke, ebola, your ASC sacrifices you, Corona kills you

     Senegal is hard

      

     Alioune and Arona,

     I don’t want you to live like me

     Senegal is hard

     The voyage is hard

      

     When we were four days out, the problems started

     It began during the night

     Monsters show their faces and devour people

     Afterwards, those who perished, we threw into the sea

      

     Mom, thank the good Lord

     Because I returned

     It’s tiring

     I came back, but I lost a lot of things

      

     Hearts are filled with sorrow

     We want prosperity,

     That’s why we’re tired

     Our parents are tired too

      

     If you know if you’re going or not,

     Because you have listened here

     Before doing something, you have to think carefully

     If you don’t, you’ll regret it

      

     Those who are present,

     My grandmother told me not to rush

     The road is long, it’s hard and tiring,

     but that’s life, life is difficult

      

     Don’t rush for your life to change quickly

     We’re going to get there believing in the good Lord

     If you don’t give up, it’s gonna come soon

     God is great, it’s over

      

     *ASC = Cultural & Sports Association

322. History does not repeat, but it does rhyme.

     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. 

323. 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.

     

      

324. Aissata Ndiaye

     5:43 pm Leave a Comment

     CW: This article contains content that may be triggering for some. It mentions Rape, Abuse, and Slavery.

     All persons referenced in this article have consented to having their story published

      

     I was fortunate enough to meet Aissata Ndiaye through Fatimata “Neene” Sy, one of my initial contacts in Senegal. Fatimata saw Aissata speak intimately about her experiences trying to migrate to Europe during a news interview on television one day. Fatimata, who is well-connected with various organizations and associations throughout Senegal, found Aissata’s number and called her with me. She introduced herself, explained who we are, and set up a time for all of us to meet.

     

     Upon meeting Aissata for the first time, I immediately admired her passion and devotion to supporting the next generation of Senegalese youth. We met with a number of returned migrants who all experienced difficulties while attempting to reach Europe. The meeting consisted of a group of women who had migrated, often being exploited or abused during the journey.

     After we introduced ourselves and spoke about our work and objectives, the women opened up about their experiences. They talked about wanting to support their families and the lack of opportunities available in Senegal. They also expressed their frustration with racism, the persistence of forced labor and slavery, and various forms of physical and sexual abuse that often occur when migrating to Europe. 

     One woman, Hawa Bah (name changed to protect her identity), remained quiet throughout the meeting and left halfway throughout the stories. Aissata later explained her situation. Her family had arranged a marriage to which she did not consent. They expected her to drop out of school in the process. One night she stole one of her family’s cows and sold it to fund her escape to Europe. She took the land route from Mali, to Algeria, and eventually to Morocco. She was captured there, imprisoned and raped continuously for days before her friends helped her escape. Aissata explained how Hawa has been unable to return to her family, who blames her for her being raped and is unwilling to accept her. Aissata tries to support her, but it is difficult without consistent work and chronically low wages. She explained how Hawa needs mental health services, but has not received any support from organizations or the government. Unfortunately, this story is not unique; all of the women who met that day shared similar stories of abuse and turmoil. Traveling to Europe through irregular routes is dangerous, and European policies make it even harder. 

     

     Aissata recounted her story and the difficulties she encountered along the way as well. While not possible for most, she originally received a visa to study in Russia and lived in Moscow for a year as an international student. She explained how education is undervalued in Senegal because even those who study hard and graduate cannot find work. The only education path that can secure a stable job is to study abroad. Even so, she explained how pernicious racism was and the difficulties she faced while abroad. She, too, didn’t want to go into detail about her experiences in Russia, but explained how Western Europe seemed a more viable option for her to continue her studies. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to secure a visa and was left with few options. She ended up risking the dangerous crossing from Morocco to Spain in order to seek asylum and continue her studies afterwards. She coordinated with someone to smuggle her into Spain, and then left Russia for Morocco.

     Once in Morocco she was brought via “auto mafia” to a hiding place along the coast of Morocco. She then boarded an inflatable eight-person dinghy with twelve other migrants. While onboard, the weather changed drastically and a storm threw them off-course. They were capsized and five migrants lost their lives (four Senegalese men and one Ivoirien woman). The survivors were brought to the hospital. Quickly afterwards, however, they were imprisoned, tortured, and made to walk from Oudja, Morocco to Algeria, and then was brought to Niger. It wasn’t until they arrived in Niger that IOM intervened and sent them back to Senegal. They were promised support by the Senegalese government, but have received nothing to-date. 

     Since her return, she has been an active volunteer, advocating for social and educational reform to better support Senegal’s youth. She formed Mouvement Jeunesse Nouvelle Vision (New Vision Youth Movement), a youth-based advocacy association, with other returned migrants in order to promote social change among Senegalese youth. She explains how youth lack employment opportunities and see no viable future in Senegal. International and national projects have failed them and most see emigration as the only chance to support their families. She references failed government agreements to sell fishing rights and how they have stripped many coastal communities of their ability to make a living at sea. The result has demoralized Senegalese youth. These projects have convinced many that the government won’t implement programs that benefit them, and actually make it harder to support their families. This mentality has become ingrained in the culture of the current generation. 

     Aissata hopes that her association will be able to work across Senegal to address the gaps left by government projects, fostering a new vision for the future that focuses on creating opportunity and investing in Senegal among local communities. She explained how hard this process will be given the lack of current opportunity, the problematic development projects currently underway, and the lack of morale. 

     Her vision for the future involves working directly with rural communities and women to develop their own projects. She hopes to foster an environment where everyone has access to educational opportunities that will lead to actual work. She believes that with the right environment and proper support, people will stop risking their lives to migrate to Europe. “It is absolutely possible. I have a lot of ideas. We have the land, water, and space to work and support our families, but without assistance from the government and organizations we can’t do anything. We need support to realize our new vision.”

     I have confidence that if projects in Senegal shifted focus, and supported and invested in women like Aissata, that there would be much more opportunity and support for the most vulnerable populations. Aissata collaborates with several groups to foster the change she hopes to initiate within her community and beyond. She has a clear vision, but lacks the resources necessary to initiate these programs. She explains that the truly marginalized are often excluded from development projects, but hopes to change that—mobilizing volunteers in every region, every ethnic group, and every language to realize a new vision for a better and stronger Senegal. 

325. 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.

326. 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.

327. 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. 

328. 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.

      

      

      

      

      

329. 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

330. Two Women of Women in Action for Women in Northern Uganda Advocate for ICC Reparations

     11:09 am Leave a Comment

     *Trigger warning: sexual violence*

      

     In January 2004, the Government of Uganda (GoU) referred itself to the judgement of the International Criminal Court (ICC) for war crimes and crimes against humanity perpetrated by the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) in Northern Uganda. 

      

     For context, the LRA is a rebel group that operated from 1987-2006 in Northern Uganda, where they unsuccessfully fought to establish an independent Acholi government ruling according to the Ten Commandments under the leadership of the self-declared prophet Joseph Kony. They are infamous for abducting approximately 30,000 children, who were forced to serve as soldiers, and domestic servants and wives to commanders. In these capacities, forced conscripts suffered unspeakable hardships. 

      

     Much literature has been written on the GoUs self-referral. The overwhelming consensus is that the GoU hoped to gain international legitimacy in the fight against the LRA. Indeed, the 2004 budget proves that point;  donors provided some 50 percent of the total budget, with the cost of defence amounting to 23 percent, and that of public administration to 22 percent of total government expenditure. Donations inadvertently entrenched Museveni’s patronage system, and supported government corruption.

      

     The ICC issued warrants against Joseph Kony, who remains at large, and three other LRA commanders, including Raska Lukwiya and Okot Odhiambo, who have since died, and Dominic Ongwen, who was sentenced to 25 years of imprisonment for a total of 61 crimes comprising crimes against humanity and war crimes on February 4, 2021.  In accordance with article 79 of the Rome Statute, the ICC may order money collected to benefit victims of crimes and their families. Since 2004, the Trust Fund for Victims has been responsible for implementing Court-ordered reparations, and providing psychological, physical, and material support to victims and their families. According to Resolution 60/147, adopted by the General Assembly on March 21, 2006, victims constitute 

      

     “persons who individually or collectively suffered harm, including physical or mental injury, emotional suffering, economic loss or substantial impairment of their fundamental rights, through acts or omissions that constitute gross violations of international human rights law, or serious violations of international humanitarian law. Where appropriate, and in accordance with domestic law, the term “victim” also includes the immediate family or dependents of the direct victim and persons who have suffered harm in intervening to assist victims in distress or to prevent victimization.” 

      

     In the specific case of Ongwen, victims are those who suffered harm as a result of his command over the Sinai brigade of the LRA between 1 July 2002 and 31 December 2005. Although Ongwen himself was a child soldier, he “was aware of the powers he held, and he took sustained action to assert his commanding position, including by the maintenance of a ruthless disciplinary system, abduction of children to replenish his forces, and the distribution of female abductees to his subordinates as so-called ‘wives,’” per the ICC’s decision on the confirmation of charges on March 23, 2016.

      

     Two eligible victims are Victoria Nyanjura and Akello Margaret of an AP Partner organization in Northern Uganda called Women in Action for Women (WAW) that seeks to transform vocational training into livelihood opportunities to improve members’ economic, social, and political lives. 

      

     Victoria and Margaret were both abductees in the Sinai brigade within the indicated timeframe. The founder of WAW, Victoria was abducted by the Lord’s Resistance Army when she was 14 years old. After eight years in captivity, she returned with two children from her forced marriage to a rebel commander. Please listen to her story in greater detail here.

      

     Like Victoria, Margaret was abducted as a child — at the young age of 10 while in second grade. She describes her experience: 

      

     I was forcefully given to a man to live with as his wife at an early age. I was beaten. We walked long distances carrying heavy luggage before I was rescued by the government soldiers in a close battle where the gunships, helicopters, and foot soldiers were all over.  I remember that the caretaker of my eldest child disappeared, and I had to look for her. I then went with the government soldiers to look for my child and the caretaker. The soldiers almost shot at us thinking that we were soldiers wanting to fight them.

      

     Life has been so hard ever since I returned because I had no home to return to; I lost my parents, and have nobody to look after me. I also got a man and we had 2 children, but he left me with them. It hurts me so much how these men act nice but end up hurting us further. I do not have any skills that can help me earn a living, but would like to learn how to make cakes and bread. There is a large market for them, and I am very sure it would help me to earn and be able to provide for my children and myself.”

      

     This summer, AP successfully connected Victoria and Margaret to a member of the Trust Fund for Victims in Kampala, Uganda, who will help them file for reparations under the Ongwen verdict. AP will continue to monitor their progress, and advocate for their right to reparations.

331. Vaccine Shortage Prompts a Surge of Untested Herbal Medicines in Africa

     9:23 am Leave a Comment

     Vaccine Shortage Prompts a Surge of Untested Herbal Medicines in Africa

332. Pape Moussé

     August 3, 2021 4:07 pm 2 Comments

     

     I first met Pape Moussé while meeting with Naatal Sendou, a community association focused on developing Sendou through locally-organized activities that seek to create employment opportunities for youth. The first time we spoke, he was eager to share his experiences and talk about his goals in life. A local fisherman, he is a husband and father to five children. He spoke about his desire to support his family, send his children to school, and to build a house. Even though he worked hard fishing every day, he found that he couldn’t provide for his family. Like many of his friends and family at the time, in 2004 Pape Moussé decided to take his chances migrating to the Canary Islands by pirogue (a traditional fishing boat in Senegal). 

     With the support of his wife and family, Pape Moussé worked endlessly for months to save up the money required to pay for this trip. He explained that the average cost per trip is between 300,000-500,000CFA (544-906USD). The trip (approximately 1500km or 940mi) can take up to seven days assuming there aren’t any complications. Pape Moussé was returned to Senegal in 2004 after a failed attempt to reach the islands, but that did not deter him. He has attempted the arduous journey four times, failing every time.

     Throughout his four attempts to reach the Canary Islands Pape Moussé experienced several hardships, including running out of food and water; flooding from storms, infighting; and losing comrades due to illness and dehydration. He explained that many migrants onboard didn’t grow up by the sea and would panic or fall ill due to sea sickness. Unable to eat or drink, they would become weak and pass away. Fellow migrants then had to make the difficult decision and threw the body into the sea. His expressions were removed and detached as he explained this horrific scene, indicating that he tries to distance himself from these painful memories. 

     In spite of these experiences Pape Moussé attempted to migrate again in 2018. In order to increase his chances of success he travelled to the capital of Mauritania, Nouakchott. Approximately 500km (310mi) closer to the Canary Islands, he worked in the capital city for five months in order to save up for the trip. Unfortunately, Mauritanian officials caught them and he was detained for several days. They confiscated all of his belongings (money, phone, etc.) and beat him. He suffered sustained injuries to his leg as a result. Senegalese officials intervened and he arrived in the border town of Rosso, Senegal, injured, broke, and without his phone. 

     After his last experience, Pape Moussé explains that he is hesitant to migrate again. He has shifted focus, and now hopes to invest in livestock as a means of livelihood. He expresses his frustration and concern about transitioning into animal husbandry: he lacks the financial means to buy and properly raise livestock, and land easements within Sendou for a development project call into question the viability of this idea as well. For the moment, Pape Moussé continues to fish, working longer hours and traveling further and further out in search of a good catch. “I am a worker,” he says. He works hard, but he still struggles. While he expresses his desire to stay home and work to support his family, he doesn’t rule out the idea of migrating again if the opportunity arises. 

      

333. 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. 

334. 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.

335. OPEN SARL Helps Women & Youth Create Opportunities in Thiaroye

     July 28, 2021 4:05 pm 1 Comment

     The first time I met with Cheikh Traoré and Fatou Mbaye I was inspired by their mission and work. Founders of the local social enterprise, OPEN SARL, they work to support and connect local community members to financing opportunities to invest in entrepreneurial activities in the community. They help youth and women in Thiaroye secure funding from local financial institutions, acting as advocates and cosigners. 

     Founded in 2015, the social enterprise has helped approximately 750 community members and cooperatives access funding to create small businesses in commerce, food transformation, fishing, animal husbandry, and farming. Working with local associations and NGOs, Cheikh saw the continuous struggle these groups faced in securing funding for their projects. Motivated to fix this issue, he decided to create a social enterprise (OPEN SARL) that filled this gap, supporting local projects and ideas by helping community members apply for loans through banks. Community members wanted to create employment opportunities to motivate youth to stay in Thiaroye, they just didn’t have the means to do so.

     Work does not come easy in Thiaroye, most work in the informal sector or take their chances to migrate to Europe. Several associations and cooperatives have formed in order to pool resources to create opportunities within the community. These efforts are often undermined by a lack of funding or top-down projects that don’t prioritize local needs. Cheikh and Fatou work tediously to identify individuals’ immediate needs and help create a plan to meet these needs. 

     

     Fatou explained that women often come to OPEN SARL after a child or husband has left to migrate to Europe. Migrants often sell their possessions to finance the trip, meaning their families are left without a source of income and without support from the migrant. This gamble can pay off if the migrant arrives in Europe, but oftentimes they face refoulement (a process of denying entry and repatriating someone) or are never heard from again. This situation forces many women to seek better paying opportunities to support their families. Women will often take up food transformation but lack the initial capital to invest in the opportunity. OPEN SARL helps these women secure financing for these entrepreneurial activities. Without OPEN SARL, most would not be approved for financing or the rates would be too high. 

     While funding is crucial to supporting community members and creating employment opportunities in Thiaroye, Cheikh and Fatou acknowledge the importance of trainings, and other skill-building activities, if these projects are to succeed. They see their collaboration with AP as an opportunity to provide financial and training opportunities to locals, ensuring that everyone has the resources necessary to achieve their goals, creating durable work that can support their families.

336. Uganda Approves Herbal Supplements in the Fight Against COVID-19

     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.  

      

337. 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.

      

      

338. 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. 

      

339. 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.”

340. 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?

341. Peace Fellows Reflect on International Service During the Pandemic

     1:18 pm Leave a Comment

     Peace Fellows Reflect on International Service During the Pandemic

342. 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!)

343. 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).

      

344. 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.

345. 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.”

346. Should Liberia, and probably West African countries affected by the 2014-2016 Ebola crisis consider paying reparations to Ebola Survivors?

     8:45 am 1 Comment

     It seems as though persons who survived Ebola in Liberia, as I have been learning from them in the last weeks, are those who most bore the cost of ending the epidemic.

     Their entire belongings were in most cases torched, with no means to reacquire them. Survivors, as they tell me, were left alone to fend for themselves, even though they lost almost everything they owned pre-crisis.

     

     Ebola Response Team decontaminate a mattress belonging to an Ebola victim; these belongs were reportedly torched once survivors returned from the ETU. (Liberia, 2014; Photo credit: Pulitzer Center)

     Though Ebola had been known for many years before the outbreak in Liberia, and no known therapeutic had been developed before the West African outbreak, the scale of the outbreak in the region presented a novel opportunity to test different methodologies to treat infected persons. Health practitioners literally iterated different methods, prominent among which was the treating of symptoms.

     Before 2014, Liberia and the other two West African countries, Guinea, and Sierra Leone that were concomitantly affected had had no experience with Ebola. As medical practitioners who were active during the outbreak indicate, the best treatment formula at the time was to identify, isolate, test, and treat [symptoms]. Ebola cases were divided three categories, suspects, probable and confirmed.

     Suspects were those who came in physical contact with persons who tested positive for the Ebola virus or persons who died, sometimes of unknown causes, but who showed symptoms of Ebola before they died. If a case was known to have showed symptoms of Ebola, like vomiting and haemorrhage, those who came in contact with such a case were put under immediate isolation. They were suspects. In most cases whole families and households were isolated in the community along with the accompanying stigma. Such families lived through stigma from the community even after they completed their 21day isolation period or when their Ebola positive relative recovered.

     Probable were those who were showing symptoms of Ebola, who became sick, but for whom a positive test had not being returned. Such persons may have also come in contact with Ebola cases, but the links were not clearly established. They were taken to a holding center, as survivors tell me, and put under observation and provided preventive treatment while they awaited their test results; even though survivors have told me at their probable stage, they received no medical care. In cases where test results proved negative, such persons were immediately returned home and mandated to follow preventive measures such as continuous handwashing, staying away from persons who were visibly sick and persons who died of unknown causes.

     Staying away from the dead was a counterculture introduced in Liberia by the Ebola crisis, and which enraged a broad spectrum of Liberians. The rejection of this Ebola preventive measure also had fatal consequences for the population, fuelled the spread, and deaths, and prolonged the outbreak. People visibly ignored the staying away from the dead edict. Medical experts indicated that corpses of Ebola victims were more infectious. Yet this did not deter Liberians who are very used to paying “last respect to the dead.”

     Confirmed were persons who tested positive for Ebola while at the holding center. Confirmed cases were immediately transferred to the Ebola Treatment Units. There were several of them in Monrovia, the most prominent being ELWA, run at the time, by Samaritan’s Purse and later taken over by Médecins Sans Frontieres, MSF. Those who went to the ETU faced one of two prospects: die or live, based on how early the person sought treatment. If the confirmation of Ebola was done early enough, the chances of survival were high; those who absconded, as many infected persons did, or sought treatment late had very slim chances of survival and in most cases, died.

     But survivors, as I have been learning, in the last weeks faced many other grim prospects for life after Ebola. Even though there was no certain chance that persons who tested positive for EVD and were taken in at the ETU would return alive[1], those who returned came back to a life of “nothing.”

     Those who tell me they were engaged in petty trade and other businesses, lost those during their Ebola experience. Those who were employed in some form, lost their jobs. One female survivor told me she worked at a building materials merchandise in Monrovia. As soon her employer learned that she had tested positive and was taken in at the ETU, the employer immediately calculated the amount of money due her up to that date and sent same to her family. This was the end of her service. She has since not got an employment.

     The same was the situation for a male survivor who we have met on this trail. He worked at a local bank before his Ebola encounter. Since the day he telephoned his employer that he was not returning to work the day after he began experiencing symptoms of Ebola, that was the end of his service. Since then, this survivor has not returned to formal full-time employment. These are possible prosecutable civil rights cases.

     The worse loss that survivors crave is the torching of their belongings to prevent Ebola transmission. All survivors we have encountered during the last weeks returned to their homes and met no belongings. Their belongings were torched to prevent EVD. It was widely believed that the Ebola virus lived on surfaces for about three to five days and in colder areas for up to 7days. Thus, the torching of the belongings of Ebola survivors was a standard preventive measure against the re-emergence of Ebola in homes where positive cases had been identified.

     But what survivors now crave as an unjust action is the fact that the prevention of Ebola is a positive externality, a sort of public good; the cost of which should not be borne by them alone. Survivors believe, if the torching of their belongings was an Ebola preventive action, survivors themselves faced no immediate threat of Ebola after recovery and hence the action had no personal benefit to them.

     Thus, those who torched their belongings should have taken actions to compensate them for the loss; something survivors tell me would have been a capital to start a new life. Survivors say literally their lives were reset upon recovering from Ebola, and all they had accumulated during their pre-Ebola life were lost to the crisis, whether savings, personal belongings, or employment and to date, they have not been fully restored.

     Survivors whose homes I have visited during these last weeks are all visibly poor economically. They attribute their poverty situation to their bout with Ebola: either they lost a parent, a spouse, a business, an employment, or a benefactor and said loss upended life prospects. The effects of which they still grapple with, in terms of lost dreams and hopes.

     The question now becomes, if survivors victoriously overcame Ebola, a feat of no cause[2] of their own, should they alone, as they are, bear the cost of eradicating Ebola out of Liberia, and probably the Mano River subregion?

     While our assessment in these last weeks has not taken us to Guinea and Sierra Leone, two countries in the region that were affected as Liberia, reports indicate survivors have similar concerns, and similar approaches used in Liberia to end the outbreak were also implemented, including the torching of belongings [without reparation], which Liberian survivors lament as the most vivid injustice they face coming out of the Ebola crisis.

     Is it now time, that Governments in these countries considered reparation to Ebola survivors? We believe so.

     The economic theory of no benefit without cost, the legal rule, that one responsible for a loss must compensate the victim, so that no injustice can be had without redress or remedy, all point to the moral imperative, that Governments in these countries look back and act to restore survivors.

     Survivors alone should not bear the cost of breaking transmissions and ending epidemics, we all should and to the extent that their belongings were torched when they themselves faced the least threat from Ebola at the time; and dismissed from their jobs when they posed the least threat to their employers and workmates, the public must pay for its good of breaking transmission and ending the outbreak.

     Reparations to survivors would do at this time.

     [1] As a matter of fact, being taken to the ETU was a death sentence which many infected persons or probable cases dreaded. One of the stories we have encountered, an outbreak in Barkedu was started by a case of two infected persons who, for fear of being taken to the ETU left Monrovia to Lofa County. This led to the death of up to 500 innocent people in that locality.

     [2] Persons who became infected with Ebola played no part in the spill over from Guinea; the means through which Ebola entered Liberia.

347. European Policies Put Migrants in Danger

     July 13, 2021 10:34 am 4 Comments

     It would be misleading to focus on the motivating factors that contribute to Senegalese youths’ decisions to migrate without also addressing the culpability of Europeans who inhibit migrants from safely traveling and arriving in their countries of destination. Restrictive migration policies and militarized border controls have made it nearly impossible for most Senegalese to migrate to Europe through regular channels. 

     Migration within West Africa remains a vital economic adaptation strategy for Senegalese youth. The lack of opportunity in Senegal pushes many to take their chance migrating to Europe, and EU policies have done little to stop this trend. Instead, these policies have just made migrating more costly and more dangerous for most. As of 2019, over 10% of migrants died attempting to secure financial stability for their families in Europe.

     Despite this reality, Europe continues to invest in problematic governance campaigns and top-down development projects in an attempt to stymie migrant flows. International migration entities, such as IOM and UNHCR, focus on reducing the dangers for those seeking refuge or a better opportunity to support their families, but they fail to focus on the root cause of this danger—the externalization and securitization of borders that intentionally exclude migrants. 

     The European Union Trust Fund for Africa (EUTF) stands as a prime example of this problematic externalization and development strategy. Implemented between 2015 and 2020, the EUTF prioritized border management and increased governance in countries of origin. This initiative did little to facilitate or open up opportunities for Senegalese youth to migrate to Europe or seek better opportunities, especially those with less education. Instead, the EUTF attempted to make strict migration policies a priority in countries like Senegal through governance and border control programs. 

     Local Senegalese organizations criticize European migration policies, arguing they exacerbate irregular migration since Senegalese migrants continue to adapt their migration strategies around stricter policies. Such policies threaten to stymie regional migration, destabilize regional economic growth, reduce resiliency, and exacerbate dangerous and irregular migration channels to Europe. 

     The EU presented a New Pact on Migration and Asylum in September 2020. It seeks to bolster bilateral agreements between the EU and African countries to “improve” migration management within countries. What is troubling about the New Pact is that it further shifts focus away from development and facilitating migration, emphasizing migration management and border control instead. It also threatens countries into compliance by blackmailing countries that refuse to adopt bilateral agreements with the EU on regulating and controlling migration—reducing or eliminating their visa programs. 

     Migration remains a highly politicized issue within Europe. Any policy that seeks to increase migration management and border security will inevitably inhibit migrants from migrating safely, pushing them into precarious situations of irregular migration. Unfortunately, it is the migrants, themselves, who suffer from this politicization. So long as Europe refuses to address their complicity in creating the dangerous conditions in which migrants find themselves, migrants will continue to die. 

348. 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

349. 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.

350. 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.

351. 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. 

352. 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.

353. Quilt Show in North COVID-19 Devastates the Tharu People in Nepal

     11:40 am Leave a Comment

     COVID-19 Devastates the Tharu People in Nepal

354. “Barsa wala Barsakh”

     9:43 am 2 Comments

     The primary motivating factor for Senegalese youth to migrate stems from a desire to support their family and create stability and opportunity within their communities: most returned migrants mention wanting to feed their families, build a house for their mother, or supporting their younger siblings’ education etc. Unfortunately, this modest goal remains impossible for most. 

     Agriculture and fisheries account for 69 percent of the labor force in Senegal, but these jobs have become increasingly impracticable due to changing market forces and climate change. Yields in both sectors have dwindled with the increased competition from foreign commercial fisheries and degradation of arable land due to desertification in the Sahel. The result has left numerous communities unable to continue work in these sectors as they can no longer meet their basic needs. 

     Several national and international programs seek to address these issues by investing in development projects and diversifying the Senegalese market. On paper, these programs showcase Senegal as a success story. In reality, these projects have fallen short in benefitting the most affected Senegalese communities, often having a pernicious effect instead. 

     

     Fishermen hard at work in Bargny

     Sendou-Bargny, a small neighborhood in the suburbs of Dakar, stands as a primary example. A productive fishing village, the community has been crippled by bilateral fishing agreements with foreign fisheries. These foreign companies use large fishing vessels and trawling techniques that deplete fish populations. Local subsistence fishermen have a hard time competing with these larger companies, often hauling in small catches or traveling extreme distances in search of a profitable yield. Most fishermen report issues securing enough income to support their families.

     To compound this issue, Sendou-Bargny has been the focus of a development project through The Plan for an Emerging Senegal (Plan Sénégal Emergent). Through decree 2019-1318 Senegal agreed to partner with Turkish metallurgy company, Tosyali Holding Senegal, to create a 100 HA special economic zone that will produce steel. The government seized this land to begin its development project, but the project has stalled. Locals, who largely oppose the development project, worry about pollution and the effect this steel plant will have on the already vulnerable fishing sector. 

     

     Bargny coal factory, another development initiative that sparked wide protests from locals

     The situation in Sendou-Bargny remains precarious for most: fishing is no longer a viable option due to competition; the seizure of land has rendered food transformation practices, agriculture, and animal husbandry unrealistic within the area; Tosyali’s reported 1200 new jobs will not replace the resulting loss of jobs the community will face; most locals will probably be “unqualified” for the positions created due to a lack of experience working in an industrial setting; and pollution from the plant will inhibit growth in other sectors that rely on the water supply and land. 

     The story in Sendou-Bargny is not unique; countless communities across Senegal face similar circumstances. The result has been rural-urban population shifts as people leave their hometowns to live in Dakar or other urban centers. However, the large influx of people into these areas with similar skills and goals has exacerbated the issue, resulting in extreme levels of unemployment.

     It seems only logical, under these circumstances, why so many people opt to migrate, even as Europe continues its policies of securitization and externalization. To many, migrating to Europe stands as their only opportunity to provide for their families, whether to feed their family, build a house for their mother, or to pay for their siblings’ education. “Barsa wala Barsakh” has become a common phrase used by many Senegalese who try to leave. Translated from Wolof, it means “Barcelona or death”. 

355. 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.

356. 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. 

357. Covid-19 in Senegal: When is it the right time to travel?

     June 20, 2021 9:05 am 2 Comments

     As many countries begin their transition into a post-pandemic era, the global disparities in vaccine distribution has become a glaring ethical issue. The inequitable distribution in vaccines continues to leave countries, such as Senegal, in a vulnerable position where the risk of another spike in cases remains an ever-present threat. The effects, however, extend beyond public health and safety.

     An increasingly relevant topic, the realities of the pandemic have exacerbated the lack of economic opportunity for Senegalese youth. As covid-19 closures disrupt the global and local economies, migration has become the only option for many. Most people who decide to migrate cite the lack of employment as the primary motivating factor. Met with border closures and strict entry policies, however, many of these individuals remain stuck—at home or abroad—in a precarious situation with no viable prospects.

     Accepting the Peace Fellowship in Senegal forced me to grapple with these global inequities directly. While shops, restaurants, and theaters continue to open up in the US with the increase in vaccination rates, Senegal remains in the middle of its pandemic efforts. Most international programs shut down or reduced their in-country staff during the past year and these programs have yet to resume abroad. Speaking with numerous Senegalese contacts about the pandemic and relying on CDC recommendations and WHO data convinced me that now is the right time. 

     The enthusiasm and expressed need for global support in Senegal indicate a need for the global community to come together and address these disparities—both in public health and economically—that weigh heavily on people’s daily lives. I don’t believe it is my decision to make regarding how or when work will resume in Senegal. Communities will make the best decision for themselves and I have responded accordingly, doing all that I can to amplify their voices and support their work. 

     Continuing best practices (i.e. wearing face masks, social distancing, and being vaccinated), I believe I can conscientiously and effectively minimize the risks to myself and others while simultaneously amplifying the voices and stories of returned migrants and their families. That said, the global community and Senegal have a lot of work to do before Senegal can begin to look beyond the pandemic.

     

     Source: Our World in Data

     To-date, only 3 percent of the Senegalese population has received a vaccine against covid-19. Contrasted with the world and US vaccine percentages (21 percent and 53 percent, respectively) it is clear that the pandemic continues to disproportionately affect Senegal, and other countries with similar barriers to vaccine accessibility. COVAX and ACT-A initiatives promise to close these gaps, but their delayed rollout and lack of transparency call into question the short-term impacts these programs will have in Senegal. During my time in Senegal, I will continue listening to the communities where I work and bring awareness to the issues they face. 

358. “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.

359. Georgia’s Step in the Wrong Direction

     12:39 pm 3 Comments

      Over the past year, it seems that the world has gone through an awakening. The deaths of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Ahmaud Arbery have drawn attention to the widespread racial disparities, and systemic racism that still substantially impact our society today. This new awareness has prompted discussions on inclusion and tolerance and has brought a new wave of proposals and policies that aim to advance progress. However, Georgia’s board of education has taken an enormous step in the wrong direction, and voted to adopt a resolution that would prevent Critical Race theory from being taught in public schools.

                 Critical Race theory is the idea that racism is a systemic problem that has existed since the very foundation of America, rather than something expressed on an individual basis. It challenges color blindness, which is the idea that everyone is granted the same opportunities in life, and points out that people are currently given different opportunities because of their race. This difference exists not just because of racial bias, but also as a result of historic oppression that has suppressed groups of people, and because of racism buried in legal policies and systems.

                  While most schools in Georgia do not explicitly teach critical race theory, many have incorporated certain aspects into their curriculum which may now be banned. For example, schools often teach history from multiple perspectives. This includes pointing out many of the founding fathers were slave owners, explaining that slaves were defined as three-fifths of a person in the constitution, and detailing racist practices that existed after the abolition of slavery, like Jim Crow and redlining. Our country’s history is rife with oppression, and many teachers attempt to demonstrate how that history is part of the story of the United States and still contributes to white privilege now.

                 Unfortunately, the resolution would effectively censor educators and interfere with students’ ability to think critically while denying the systemic racism in our country. Under the resolution, educators would be prohibited from teaching that “…  with respect to their relationship to American values, slavery and racism are anything other than deviations from, betrayals of, or failures to live up to, the authentic founding principles of the United States, which include liberty and equality…” and that “meritocracy or traits such as a hard work ethic are racist or sexist, or were created by members of a particular race to oppress members of another race”. In effect, this would erase the historical context and deny the very real existence of white privilege in our society.

      

360. 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. 

      

361. 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

362. 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

363. WASH at St. Martin’s Primary School: Addressing the Accessibility Gap

     9:55 am 2 Comments

     St. Martin’s Primary School is only accessible by a dirt road. It is, quite literally, off the beaten path. Located about 20 km from Gulu, St. Martin’s is surrounded by bush that extends for miles. Many classrooms do not have roofs, and are overgrown with underbrush — an unfortunate consequence of an ongoing lawsuit between contractors that has left numerous buildings half-finished since 2013. Until these buildings are finished, they are unusable. 

     This is unfortunate because the school has an enormous population of 1445 students, but only 11 classrooms. 300 students are crammed into each classroom. No wonder why COVID-19 spread so quickly in schools!

     

     A classroom for 300 students.

      

     Besides an inadequate number of classrooms, there are also an inadequate number of latrines. 10 stances serve 1445 students — and teachers, and parents, and staff, and visitors. That is a ratio of 1 toilet to 144 students. 5 of the stances are for girls, including a washroom, and 5 are for boys. None of the stances are drainable, and the boys’ are about to reach full capacity. The girls have nowhere to deposit sanitary pads after use. Furthermore, the teachers do not have their own stances. When they need to use the bathroom, they are forced to walk to the neighboring church and use their facilities, which they described as incredibly embarrassing. 

     None of that is even to mention the accessibility of the facilities for people with disabilities. In Uganda, 12.4% of the population, or 4.5 million people, live with some form of disability. Unfortunately, persons with disabilities are among the most marginalized groups in both the public and private spheres. Women with disabilities especially suffer from lack of access to basic needs, such as education opportunities. 

     

     Boys Latrine at St Martins

     St. Martin’s is a case in point for the additional challenges faced by people with disabilities. The latrines are located about 40 meters from the nearest classroom. The narrow, winding dirt path that leads to both the girls and boys’ latrines was difficult to navigate for me — an able-bodied person. The path is far too small, uneven, and overgrown for a person in a wheelchair, or on crutches, to readily use.

     This situation violates the human right to sanitation, which, in the words of the Special Rapporteur on the human rights to safe drinking water and sanitation, “entitles everyone, without discrimination, to have physical and affordable access to sanitation, in all spheres of life, that is safe, hygienic, secure, socially and culturally acceptable and that provides privacy and ensures dignity.” 

     It is important to remember that the blame lies not with the school, but with the government, which continuously fails to provide resources for schools like St. Martin’s Primary.

     In the face of the dire situation at St. Martin’s, Gulu Disabled Person’s Union (GDPU) will be building accessible toilets there this summer. GDPU’s approach to Water, Sanitation and Hygiene (WASH) is inclusive, sustainable, and successful. Having already installed toilets at four other schools that remain operational to this day, Patrick, the project manager of WASH at GDPU, has become something of an expert on toilets.

     The key to GDPU’s model is its incorporation of teachers and parents from planning to construction to maintenance, which inspires community ownership of the toilets, and gives community members incentive to maintain the toilets.

     At the beginning of the process, GDPU meets with teachers and parents to solicit their advice, such as where the toilet would be best placed, and ensure that their needs are met. Usually, parents take shifts digging the latrine pit with the advice of the engineer. However, during COVID-19, this proves a challenge. According to the Ugandan Ministry of Health’s Standard Operating Procedures (SOPs), no more than 20 people can meet at once, all must wear a mask, and all must be at least 2 meters apart.

     Given these procedures, GDPU has had to adapt its modus operandi; instead of gathering in one large group, parents will dig in small groups, and will continually rotate. Another staple of GDPU’s procedure that has been impacted by COVID is teacher inclusivity training. Instead of gathering all the teachers together to explain toilet maintenance and disability accessibility, GDPU will produce a brochure that will be provided to teachers and parents alike with frequently asked questions.

     Lastly, the handover ceremony, a celebration of the community’s work on the toilet during which it is “handed over” to them will be pushed to September, when (hopefully) more than 20 people can gather at once.

364. Start of an Exciting Journey

     June 10, 2021 7:13 pm 4 Comments

     I started working for the Advocacy Project as a Peace Fellow the last week. There are a couple of projects I work on. In this blog, I want to discuss why I am super excited to support a soap-making project and the WASH (Water, Sanitation, and Hygiene) Project to install accessible toilets in Uganda. I will provide some data about the accessibility of the water, sanitation, and hygiene services in the region. I am sure the numbers make you surprised and convinced of how vital to work to improve the conditions over there!

     First of all, water, sanitation, and hygiene (WASH) are critical to health, survival, and development. Many countries are challenged in providing these services for their entire populations, leaving people at risk for WASH-related diseases. People living in rural areas, urban slums, disaster-prone areas, and low-income countries are the most vulnerable and the most affected.

     Water
     According to CDC, 785 million people today do not have basic access to water. Finding effective and sustainable solutions for water supplies is significant regarding the fact that 30 to 40 percent of the rural water supply in low-income countries does not work.

     Sanitation & Hygiene
     Lack of sanitation can be a severe barrier to individual prosperity and sustainable development. Sanitation is essential for all, helping to maintain health and increase life-spans. According to the WHO, an estimated 2.4 billion people lack basic sanitation throughout the world (more than 32% of the world’s population), while 673 million people practice “open defecation.”

     Children
     The consequences of unsafe water, sanitation, and hygiene on children can be deadly. Many children living in impoverished urban settlements, like slums, are deprived of their drinking water and sanitation rights. UNICEF reported that over 800 children under age five die every day from preventable diarrhea-related diseases due to the lack of appropriate WASH services worldwide. Three billion people worldwide, including hundreds of millions of school-going children, do not have access to handwashing facilities with soap. When children, especially girls, cannot access private and decent sanitation facilities in their schools or learning environments, their right to education is basically restricted. These all have severe implications on their health, nutrition, education, and learning abilities, which prevent a child from achieving his or her full potential.

     Africa
     According to UNICEF, when it comes to Eastern and Southern Africa, more than 70 percent of the population (340 million people) has no access to essential sanitation services. Among these, 98 million people (19 percent) practice open defecation, 179 million use unimproved facilities, and 63 million shared sanitation facilities. Ethiopia, Uganda, Kenya, and Tanzania have the largest number of people in the region with no access to basic sanitation services. Eritrea, South Sudan, and Ethiopia have the largest proportions and numbers of people practicing open defecation. In schools, over 50 million (27 percent) school-age children have no access to sanitation services, while 117 million (62 percent) have no access to handwashing facilities in schools.

     The Trend Over Years
     You might think that the percentage of the people who have access to WASH services increases adequately as time passes. Unfortunately, the pace of increase in access to essential sanitation services is quite far away from the UN’s Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). Access to essential sanitation services in communities has only increased by 6 percent since 2000. There were more people without basic water and sanitation services in 2017 than there were in 2000 in the world!

     Uganda
     I prepared two charts according to data derived from the World Bank’s DataBank. Charts depict people with basic handwashing facilities and people using at least essential sanitation services in Uganda. Because data is available only for the period between 2000 and 2017, we can track the trend over 17 years.

     

     You can see the percentage of people with basic handwashing facilities, including soap and water, in figure 1. Until 2013, there had been a slight increase in the rate of the population who have access to basic handwashing facilities. Access to handwashing facilities in the total population increased by 6.7 percent in 4 years and reached 21 percent in 2017. However, there is a significant disparity between rural and urban areas. From 2013 to 2017, people with access to handwashing facilities increased by 11% in rural areas; the number reached 19% in urban areas.

     

     Figure 2 shows how urgent working for providing better and sustainable WASH services is essential for essential sanitation services. As you can see from the chart, there has been a slight increase among the total population and urban population who use at least essential sanitation services. Interestingly, the percentage of people having access to sanitation services in urban areas had decreased by 4.2% percent over 17 years! There must have been a constant increase over the years to achieve the UN’s Sustainable Development Goals for Uganda. Rather than seeing a continuous improvement in the region, we face a situation that has been worsened over the years.

     This quick introduction and data presented make me super motivated to support the community-based response to one of Uganda’s most pressing problems – the lack of WASH services at primary schools and soap making. Besides, the Advocacy Project’s vision of working directly with local communities, planning the agenda according to local people’s demands, and giving immense importance to their feedback make me more excited. I do believe that the inclusion of local communities in projects is an indispensable part of fostering sustainable development and peace over the region. I will talk more about this in another blog!

365. 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.

366. A Comedy of Errors: Travel in the Time of COVID

     June 8, 2021 7:37 am 2 Comments

     I made sure to take a PCR test within 24-hours of my flight’s departure from New York City to Amsterdam. It is a requirement for passengers travelling to the Netherlands to test within 24-hours. I wasn’t sure about passengers merely passing through the airport, but to be safe I took my test on Friday before flying out Saturday evening at 6:30 p.m. 

      

     My PCR appointment was initially scheduled for 4:00 p.m. on Friday, but it was moved to 6:00 p.m., and then to 8:00 p.m. Not a problem, the company assured me: I would still receive my result by 3:00 p.m. the next day — in time to print my results before heading to the airport. I spent Saturday morning packing and relaxing, and at around 1:00 p.m. went out to a delicious Italian lunch with my parents.

      

     When I got back to the house, I had two missed calls on my phone from the testing company. They had left a voicemail: “‘Hi…we are unable to get in touch with the lab and don’t think we’ll have your result by 3:00 p.m. I am so sorry about this. We are going to reimburse you because we guaranteed that you would have the result by 3:00 p.m. Please call back when you get this message.'” A chill momentarily passed through my body. This wasn’t according to plan. “It’s OK,” I assured myself, “I’m sure you’ll have the result soon.'” 

      

     I called back to learn more about the situation. The man told me that the result should have been in at 10:00 a.m. that morning, but that the lab had alerted him at 12:30 p.m. that they hadn’t yet tested the samples they received last night. He wasn’t able to get a hold of the director, but was sending him messages through their secure system. I felt a wave of panic pass through my body. “Ok, but when do you expect to receive the results?” I asked, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “Uhm… we’re not sure. I don’t know if it will be 30 minutes or an hour or two hours because uhm… we don’t want to make another guarantee and uhm… I haven’t been able to get in touch with the lab.” It was 2:30. 

      

     He told me that the best idea was to get a rapid test at the airport just in case the results did not come in on time. But didn’t he understand that I had taken a PCR test to avoid getting tested at the airport facility, which was sure to have a long line? “Relax. Calm.” I soothed myself. “It will be fine.” 

      

     At 3:00 my parents and I hopped in the car and sped off to the airport — for about 7 minutes, until we hit stop-and-start traffic that was moving so slowly the Bronx River Parkway felt like a parking lot. To make matters worse, the quickest route to the airport — the Hutchinson River Parkway — was closed. 

      

     After numerous calls to the company and no lab results to be found, it began to dawn on me that I might not get the results in time to check in for my flight. “Look up other flights,” my dad barked from the driver’s seat. “If you have to wait for results at the airport, you are not going to make your flight in time with this traffic.” My heart began to race; this was turning into a disastrous start to my over 30-hour trip to Gulu. I was no longer in control…

      

     Luckily, a quick Google search told me that KLM offered another flight an hour later to Amsterdam, which would still give me time to make my connecting flight to Uganda. After holding for 20 minutes on KLM’s customer service line, I finally reached a representative. She was able to change my flight with no additional charge. I instantly felt more relieved, but still had to book my testing appointment at the airport. The second time I refreshed the airporting testing website, I found an available appointment at 5:45 p.m. I would barely have enough time to get tested and make my flight, but I had no choice; I booked it. This was going to be tight.

      

     When we arrived at the airport, I hurriedly said goodbye to my parents outside the terminal. I rushed to the bathroom, and then to the testing center. Two people in front of me, about 25 minutes to get results. Not bad. I would be able to test before my allotted appointment. After checking in and paying the $225 fee (!), I was ushered into a room where a nurse took down my information and swabbed my nose. “Can I check in while I wait for my result?” I asked, pressed for time. “No, you need your negative test result,” she told me, with a look of pity on her face. “Don’t worry, though, you have plenty of time,” she cooed soothingly. Relieved, I sat down in the waiting area with renewed hope.

      

     About thirty minutes later my negative result finally came in. It was now 6:00 — just one hour and a half before my flight. I rushed upstairs to check in at Delta, only to find a huge line that snaked outside of the roped area. My jaw nearly dropped to the floor. There was no way I was going to check in on time. Instead of waiting in that long line, I went directly to the designated KLM area, but was turned away by a staff member. “You have to wait in that line,” she told me sternly. I returned dejectedly. 

     After about 20 minutes, the line had barely moved. “You are all going to miss your flight,” a blunt staff member told the desperate people in line. When someone complained that they had a 7:30 p.m. flight she simply said: “You should have gotten here earlier. You’re going to miss your flight.” There was no way that I was going to miss my flight after the ordeal that I had already been through. I left my bag in line and steamrolled directly to the KLM desk. “My flight is at 7:30, and I need to catch it because I have a connecting flight,” I desperately told the agent. Taking pity on me, he commanded me to hurry up; “if you don’t check in now you’re going to miss your flight” he practically yelled in alarm. I ran back to the line, grabbed the bag I had left behind, and sprinted directly to the desk. I was checked in in under 2 minutes. 

      

     Right before checking in, my negative PCR test came in. “What did that matter now” I thought to myself with a self-pitying laugh. I rushed through security and sprinted through the airport until I arrived at my gate. Ironically, there was a long line to check in; apparently I had made it with time to spare. When I finally got to the front of the line around 45 minutes later, I showed the Delta agent the negative test I received at the airport. “Where are you going?” he asked. “Uganda” I told him. After typing the destination into his computer to check the COVID requirements, he reported that I needed a negative PCR test to enter the country, and the test I had showed him was not a PCR test. Chills ran through my body. Forgetting that the 24-hour test was a PCR test, I replied, laughing nervously: “To be safe, I got another test.” I showed him the result from the other test, which had come in just an hour before. “Use that one; it’s better,” he instructed me. He signaled for me to pass through the jetway. Relief poured over me as I realized I had made it.   

367. A New and Familiar Place

     June 3, 2021 11:51 am 1 Comment

     Stepping out of the airport in Dakar, Senegal, a familiar, if not surreal, sensation washes over me as it hits that I am once again in West Africa. Coming out of a year and a half of isolation and virtual classes the feeling is all at once comforting and overwhelming. The moment quickly fades as I step back into the rhythm of life, trying to get phone credit and haggling with taxi drivers. 

     

     Taxi ride from the airport in Dakar

     I inform Fatimata “Neene” Sy, one of my Senegalese counterparts, of my arrival and she quickly calls to inform me that she has a family matter to tend to and will not be able to greet me when I arrive at her place. Still worried about me, I assure her that I will arrive just fine—hospitality is an important part of Senegalese culture so I know this matter is important and I don’t want to add to her stress. 

     As I look out of the window of the taxi, I am again swept up into the familiar scenes and smells of street vendors cooking spiced dibi (West African dish of spiced meat and caramelized onions), people selling peanuts and other items to slow-moving traffic, and livestock calling out from the side of the road. Traffic moves slowly in Dakar, inching its way to the end of Cape Verde Peninsula, towards downtown.

     Eventually I arrive at my destination. I quickly settle in and orient myself to my new neighborhood; identifying the nearby boutiques (corner stores), scoping out restaurants, and introducing myself to my neighbors. Speaking French and Pular, I befriend some local merchants who help familiarize me with local prices and taxi routes. It becomes immediately evident that I will have to work on improving my Wolof skills, the lingua franca throughout most of Senegal.

     

     The neighborhood where I’m staying in Dakar

     As the Maghrib call to prayer marks the end of the day, I begin to reflect on my presence here and the unique challenges I will likely face connecting with returned migrants. While life continues on the surface, covid-19 leaves its traces in the masks people wear and the lack of physical greetings such as handshakes and cheek kisses that were so ubiquitous before. 

     Its tracks run deeper, no doubt, and I wonder how I will engage with the community and what building a social network in the midst of a pandemic will look like here. The welcoming and friendly atmosphere that defines Senegal has not disappeared but these new realities have changed the way in which people relate to one another. Despite this, my contacts seem excited and optimistic for my arrival, which gives me confidence.

      

368. Ethical Considerations of Travel to Uganda During COVID-19

     9:34 am 6 Comments

     I have made the decision to stay in Gulu, Uganda for ten weeks this summer as a Peace Fellow with the Advocacy Project (AP). This was not an easy decision, because COVID-19 has painted in stark relief the ethical questions that come with traveling to third-world countries. Inadequate health care, high rates of autoimmune diseases, and widespread poverty make Uganda particularly susceptible to COVID outbreaks, and negative outcomes for sick patients. Given the situation, why did I elect to travel? 

     Most importantly, AP’s Uganda partners have invited me to come. The Ugandans with whom we work know the on-the-ground situation best, and have assessed the risk of my stay to be minimal enough that the benefits of having an AP partner in Gulu outweighs the costs. Furthermore, the government of Uganda has granted me a tourist visa. In their expert opinion, my entry does not sufficiently risk the wellbeing of the Ugandan people. 

     I have planned my travel to be as COVID safe as possible. I am fully vaccinated. 24-hours before traveling, I will take a PCR test that I must present before boarding the plane in New York. Upon return to the United States, I will also take a PCR test (available at the Entebbe airport). I will travel directly from Entebbe to Gulu with a hired driver, and will keep my mask on at all times inside the car. In Gulu, I am staying in my own building within a compound. The compound has its own restaurant, so I will be able to eat my meals in my room.  In the case that I need to quarantine, I can safely do so there. I will travel to and from meetings with a hired driver, and will wear a mask. I will conduct meetings outside whenever possible (it is the rainy season), and maintain social distancing.

     In reality, most people with whom I interact will not be masked, and will not maintain social distancing. I am not responsible for their choices, but I am responsible for my own. I believe that the preventive measures I take will prevent others from possibly contracting the virus.

     Although I am fully vaccinated and will adopt best COVID-safe practices, only 0.6% of the population of Uganda has been fully vaccinated, and around 5.8% of the adult population are HIV+. Furthermore, hospitals are notoriously underfunded, and have low technical efficiency. This means that Ugandans are at high risk for severe COVID cases, and negative outcomes given hospitalization. This begs the question: As a fully vaccinated person, can I still contract and, more importantly, spread the virus? Recent studies have shown that vaccinated people who contract the virus are less infectious because they have less virus in their systems. Further supporting the conclusion that vaccinated people are extremely unlikely to spread the virus is the finding that fully immunized participants were 25 times less likely to test positive for COVID-19 than were those who were unvaccinated. Although there is a small chance that I may contract the virus, there is an even smaller chance that I will spread it. 

     Even if I am unlikely to contract or spread COVID, I may get sick from another illness and take up space and resources at a health clinic that would otherwise go to a Ugandan. This is an issue that is present in non-COVID times, but is especially salient during the pandemic. In order to prevent severe illness, I have gotten vaccinated against yellow fever (a requirement to enter the country) and typhoid, and will take malaria pills for the duration of my stay. In order to treat a possible infection without the need for a doctor’s visit, I am bringing antibiotics. These measures, in addition to my COVID-safe practices, should protect me from contracting an illness that necessitates a visit to the hospital. 

     I believe, along with AP’s Uganda partners, that the benefits of travel outweigh the costs. I look forward to your comments!

369. Join us for a digital exhibition of woven COVID stories

     June 2, 2021 10:31 am Leave a Comment

     Join us for a digital exhibition of woven COVID stories

370. Bangladesh Court Calls a Halt to the Persecution of River Gypsies

     May 21, 2021 10:04 am Leave a Comment

     Bangladesh Court Calls a Halt to the Persecution of River Gypsies

371. Quilt Show in North Carolina Tells the Story of COVID Across Three Continents

     May 3, 2021 9:52 am Leave a Comment

     Quilt Show in North Carolina Tells the Story of COVID Across Three Continents

372. 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.” 

373. 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. 

374. 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.

375. 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.

      

376. 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.

377. Frightened Palestinians Call On Israel To Speed Vaccine Delivery

     9:40 am Leave a Comment

     Frightened Palestinians Call On Israel To Speed Vaccine Delivery

378. 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.

379. 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.

380. Kenyan Artistry Lightens Pandemic Gloom

     March 9, 2021 3:11 pm Leave a Comment

     Kenyan Artistry Lightens Pandemic Gloom

381. 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).

382. 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.

      

383. 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. 

384. 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.

385. 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. 

386. 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.

387. 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.

388. It’s Time to Come to Terms with What America has Always Been.

     January 8, 2021 6:47 pm 1 Comment

     It’s hard to know how to start a blog discussing the events of yesterday. I have sat in front of a screen for 30 minutes, writing, and then deleting sentences over and over, failing to find the most important emotion to capture. 

     I am 21 years old and have lived through many important events. When I was one and a half, the attacks of 9/11; at 13, a classroom of first-graders were killed in a school shooting; at 17 Donald Trump was elected; at now at 21, the U.S. Capitol was besieged for the first time since 1814.

     When you look at all these events together, and the many more that I chose to not mention, you may think that I have experienced a great deal of change in my life. However, while these events certainly left an impact, it is hard for me to say that I felt a major change in the country, or at least not a change for the better.

     Anyone who was surprised by the events of yesterday has not been paying close enough attention. I did not grow up in a time of extreme patriotism like my baby boomer parents did. I grew up in a time of fear, where when a horrible event took place, instead of banding together, there was extreme push-back against making the issues better. I hope that yesterday was serious enough that actual change can occur but it has been discouraging to have only seen more and more of this stuff emerge as I have gotten older.

     

     As depressing and disappointing yesterday was, there are still lessons that can be learned. The first and foremost is that there need to be repercussions. Far too often, the perpetrators of these acts get off easy so that the country can feel more harmonious. However, when they are the ones that create the issues in the first place, why do we insist on forgiving them when they have demonstrated they have no interest in keeping the peace. 

     Second, and I would argue even more important, is that we come to terms with what this country looks like. Perhaps not having grown up during the Cold war, has made me far less motivated to ignore the country’s flaws in favor of pure, blind patriotism, but the events of yesterday did not come as a shock.

     I have repeatedly seen people say that the actions of the individuals yesterday were “not American”. While their actions may not reflect what we want America to stand for, to say that it is not American feels as if it is ignoring the reality that this behavior has existed in America for centuries. It may not be what many of us see as the ideal of America, but to me, it reveals what has always existed. Many claim the events of yesterday reveal a change that has come about after Trump, yet I would argue that it only exposes the types of movements that have always been permitted, if hidden in America.

     White supremacy and white privilege have never gone away and yesterday was just a more visible example of that. Those who are shocked, are simply failing to see that these are not new issues. If we cannot confront that our country has always allowed for the presence of these ideas, then there is no hope to actually make a difference and move in a positive direction.

     This election was my first presidential election. Many of my peers have also voted in their first election and the vast majority of people my age are showing themselves to be conscious and ready to combat the existing problems in the world.

     I hope that this new generation will continue to push back against inequalities and racism and permanent changes can be made. We will one day be the decision makers, and I hope that the failures of our childhood will encourage us to never give up. Yesterday can be a learning experience for the country, but only if we come to terms with the reality of the situation. Only then, will I be able to say that I have seen real change in this country.

389. The Unsettling Pandemic

     January 5, 2021 9:49 am Leave a Comment

     The Unsettling Pandemic

390. COVID-19 Embroidery Project: Ann Kumashiro

     December 19, 2020 12:25 pm 1 Comment

391. COVID-19 Embroidery Project: Natalie Manlove

     12:23 pm Leave a Comment

392. COVID-19 Embroidery Project: Sofia Reecer

     December 18, 2020 5:02 pm Leave a Comment

393. COVID-19 Embroidery Project: Ainsley Pollock

     5:00 pm Leave a Comment

394. COVID-19 Embroidery Project: Layla Kherbouch

     12:42 pm Leave a Comment

395. 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. 

      

396. COVID-19 Embroidery Project: Kate Lanman

     2:15 pm 1 Comment

397. COVID-19 Embroidery Project: Leah Akin Nelson

     2:12 pm Leave a Comment

398. COVID-19 Embroidery Project: Elena Cura

     1:22 pm Leave a Comment

399. COVID-19 Embroidery Project: Stephanie Achugamonu

     1:17 pm Leave a Comment

400. Help Us to Strengthen International Service During the Pandemic

     December 4, 2020 11:55 am Leave a Comment

     Help Us to Strengthen International Service

401. The Inequalities of Online Learning

     November 19, 2020 9:00 pm 3 Comments

     Having grown up in a major city and attending public schools, I always knew in the back of my mind that there were certain inequalities in education. Some students had a much longer commute to school and therefore had less time to do homework and others may have had to work a job to support their family. Some students may have struggled in classes but have been unable to afford a tutor or receive help from their parents, causing them to fall further behind their peers. For example, my public school in Chicago occasionally shut down due to the cold, because some students didn’t have the necessary clothing to stay safe on their way to school. At the time, I never thought anything of it and would instead just be happy that we had a day off from school, unaware of the larger issues that this represented.

     COVID has brought these inequalities to the forefront. The spread of COVID has left many schools with no choice but to go online in order to protect the lives of teachers, students, and whoever may come into contact with those groups.  Online-learning is difficult for most students, but the fortunate ones typically only have to deal with distractions and lack of motivation that make completing work difficult. Millions of students, however, have extenuating circumstances that may make it almost impossible to complete their school work.  Learn java full stack course online for the best career opportunity.
     

     

     When my sister’s public high school first went online in March, she didn’t have formal classes for almost 2 months. A number of things led to this slow process to become virtual. There was a lack of personnel and training that made it so teachers knew how to teach in an online setting. Many students didn’t have internet at home and the libraries that they would typically go to were closed down. It took the entire summer just to provide computers for all the students who didn’t have access to one. For these students, they essentially went months without any schooling at all. Since there was no immediate solution to these issues, even if they only affected a small percentage of the students, the entire system suffered. My sister is fortunate that she has the resources needed to perform to the best of her ability at home, but it still hasn’t been a rosy experience for her.

     The educational effects may be seen for years in the future. Current elementary school children may find themselves years behind the level that students are typically at for their age. Young children who rely on school for developmental progress, such as making friends and understanding proper behavior, may be permanently stunted. While standardized tests are being required at fewer and fewer schools, some students may only be able to afford tutoring or the actual test through their school and this may affect their acceptance to college. We may not know the full effects that the lack of in-person schooling will have until long after this pandemic ends. 

     

     The problems go beyond just educational issues. For some students, school is a safe space for those who may not have a good home life. Students who are part of the LGBTQ+ community may be only able to be their true selves at school. Victims of domestic abuse may use school as a safe haven. For many children, especially in my city of Chicago, the free breakfast and lunch provided at school may be some of the only nutritional meals that a child has access to. These issues are ones that existed before COVID but weren’t nearly as detrimental since students were able to spend much of their time at school. School previously served as a bandaid to many of these issues, but the sudden and unexpected lack of access to schools demonstrates that this is not nearly sufficient of a solution anymore.

     The list of differences between those who have resources and support at home compared to those who don’t could go on and on. Educational inequalities were an issue that should have been addressed even before COVID hit, but now it is becoming virtually impossible to ignore any longer. If any student isn’t able to get a good education due to causes that are beyond their control, then the system has failed. Currently, there isn’t a perfect solution to these issues that have existed but are just now coming to light, but I hope that the current situation influences educational and social policy to make the problems highlighted above a thing of the past regardless of whether there is a pandemic or not.

      

402. What’s In A Name?: Kamala Harris and Non-English Names in America

     November 18, 2020 1:13 pm 3 Comments

     Kamala Harris, the 2020 Vice-President Elect has made history by being the first African Indian American woman to hold the position. What comes at a tumultuous and scary time in our history, and particularly during my lifetime, is a joyous celebration of what our democracy can accomplish when people’s rights are exercised and counted. When Kamala Harris gave her speech announcing the results, I found myself shedding a tear or two. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined seeing an Asian American woman take such an important role in leadership.  For generations to come, seeing someone like Kamala who represents their interests and looks like them will profoundly impact their self-worth and empowerment. 

     Harris has been in positions of leadership throughout her career, and yet, she repeatedly faces mispronunciations of her name despite being honest about the correct pronunciation. Some other elected officials go as far as to mock her name. Georgia Senator David Perdue said at a Trump rally, “Ka-ma-la or Ka-ma-la, Kamala-mala-mala. I don’t know, whatever.” Perdue made a mockery of her name, insulting the pronunciation and butchering it. Individuals with non-English names often face mispronunciations and mocking remarks of their names no matter what their position is.

     Kamala and I share similar experiences when it comes to our names. In my life, I have been called so many names. I’m “honey” with my parents. “Nerd” with my friends. “Smart-ass” and “cynic” from my teachers. “Short” from strangers. And by now, I have been called these things more than my own given name. Sometimes, people do not even say something when mentioning me. I would get a head tilt, a motion of a hand, or a look suggesting, “Hey you over there.”  I get it. My name can be difficult to deconstruct. There are a lot of letters in a confusing order. 

     I was always apologetic when it came to mispronunciations of my own name; Like I had caused an inconvenience for other people. I wasted their time by existing with this name. When they take an uncomfortable look at the letters and the syllables, I have moments when I wish my name could have been Michelle or Sarah. 

     There were moments when I wanted to go by something else. One day, I came home from elementary school crying to my mom about how I want to go by Elizabeth. How I was tired of putting up with intolerant bullies. I was tired of being Malien. My mom goes by an Anglicized nickname from her Vietnamese name. Her name is Hong, but in her professional life, she goes by Rosie. Her name, meaning rose in Vietnamese, was given to her by my grandparents An and Khanh. My dad goes by Kit in his professional life.  Kittipon is his real, given name from his Thai parents. Thai surnames are meant to be unique to one family unit. You will never find someone who shares the same name that is not related to you. Thai children are also given nicknames, mainly for assimilation into Western culture. My dad’s nickname is Yo. My uncle’s name is Nittipon, but he goes by Yak. Our family name, Tingpalpong, was given to us after our other family name was changed because of safety. Rebels from our family were in danger after the government revolt, so we changed our name in order to hide.

     My parents made the decision to call me by my given name growing up. No nickname. No westernized, watered-down version of my name, even though I desperately wanted something others could pronounce. For a while, I resented the experience and embarrassment and remained apologetic for wasting people’s time.

      When I was in high school, I was involved in every part of the school community from the student council to the speech team to being editor in chief of the student newspaper. And yet, no matter how much I put myself out there, teachers, staff, administrators, and some students would repeatedly mispronounce my name. No matter how many times I wrote my name phonetically on my assignments or explicitly corrected them, it did not matter to them. It did not matter the impact I made on the school. What mattered to others was convenience. It was easier to mispronounce my name than to make an effort to correct their words. 

     Kamala and I are only a few people who have undergone discrimination by having non-English names in the United States. Some decide to make the experience easier for others by anglicizing their names and assimilating to American culture. Despite all the negative past experiences I have had because of others not understanding my name, there is something so special about going by my birth name. I owe it to my ancestors to use this name in the United States. I owe it to those before me who sacrifice their own cultural identity to assimilate. Using a different name would be a disservice to my family, and therefore, mispronouncing my name is disrespecting generations upon generations of hardship and struggle.

     

     In an October 30th, 2020 interview with People magazine, Harris pointed out that, “The name that your parents give you, whoever you are, meaning whatever your gender or race or background or the language your grandmother speaks, is a very special thing. Many cultures have naming ceremonies. It is a gift that is an incredible, familial gift. The family gives the child a name and so I come at it from that: not about myself, but for everyone … Respect the names that people are given and use those names with respect.”

     By going by Malien, I refuse to be called anything but my name. And I refuse to sacrifice my identity to convenience others. Instead of feeling the shame and embarrassment, I felt for so long, I take up space unapologetically. So if you have a friend or coworker or classmate with a non-English name, respect them and their name. We need people to say our names correctly. It’s not an excuse to say it wrong. There is something so profound about seeing yourself represented in the media, in politics, and in spaces that underrepresent us. Kamala is paving the way.

     “My mother had a saying, ‘Kamala, you may be the first to do many things, but make sure you’re not the last.”

     -Kamala Harris

403. Everyday is Election Day

     November 16, 2020 11:44 am Leave a Comment

     Everyday is Election Day

404. 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.”

405. Hail To The Nineteenth!

     October 27, 2020 3:20 pm Leave a Comment

     Hail To The Nineteenth!

406. Unemployment, Infection Threaten Migrants Returning to Nepal

     October 20, 2020 11:10 am Leave a Comment

     Unemployment, Infection Threaten Migrants Returning to Nepal

407. 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

408. 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

409. Forever Haunted By The Disappeared

     September 15, 2020 2:52 pm Leave a Comment

     Forever Haunted By The Disappeared

410. 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.

411. 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.

412. Podcast – Remembering the Disappeared in Argentina

     August 31, 2020 2:59 pm Leave a Comment

     Washington DC, August 31: From Horror to Recovery: On the occasion of the International Day of the Disappeared (August 31), I discuss the lessons from Argentina with Ariel Dulitzky, whose family lost two members to the disappearances. Ariel teaches law at the University of Texas and was the first Argentinian to serve on the UN Working Group on Enforced and Involuntary Disappearances.

      

413. 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

414. A Huge Part of My Identity is…

     August 26, 2020 12:44 pm Leave a Comment

     A huge part of my identity is that I am a proud immigrant.

     To start, I have resided in a rural town in Pennsylvania for fifteen years now, but I was initially born and raised in the country of Uzbekistan. As I mentioned in my previous blog, I made the move to the United States with my family at the age of seven. To give you a little bit of background on the country. Uzbekistan is known for being part of the infamous silk road and was home to the world’s greatest Persian scholars such as Avicenna, Al-Biruni, and Muhammad al-Bukhari. Later, Uzbekistan becomes part of the Soviet Union until its independence in September 1991.

     (Photo Credit: Map Hill)

     (Photo of Tashkent. Credit: The Travel Magazine)

      

     Despite only living in Uzbekistan during the early parts of my childhood years, I still recall a lot about life there. I recall how even early on, I grew up speaking not only the national language, which is Uzbek, but also Russian. I recall living in the metropolitan city of Tashkent and having my weekends split between huge weddings, birthdays, and other family-based celebrations. Perhaps it was due to the urban environment that I lived in but compared to where I live now in the states, I can seldom recall a time in Uzbekistan when my life was dull or boring.

     

     Young Ezoza in Uzbekistan

     After our move to the states, one of the biggest challenges that we faced was adjusting or assimilating to the calm and monocultural region that was rural Pennsylvania. The first thing I had to do was get used to seeing deer and other woodland creatures that I had never seen before! In all seriousness, when came to the US, we had no knowledge of the language or people and had to start from scratch. My school’s demographic was predominately white which was fine for the most part but I found myself always feeling like an outsider. There were instances where I faced the typical “go back to where you came from” remark as well as other ignorant comments but I used that prove them that I belonged here and graduated high school in the top 10 percentile with various awards. My experience living in a different country has shaped everything about me, from the languages that I know to the way I view the world. I have learned to be the hardest worker in the room and to never take anything for granted.

415. 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.

416. 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.”

417. Let’s Get Comfortable With Being Uncomfortable

     August 6, 2020 3:47 pm 2 Comments

     Talking about race and racism can be an uncomfortable topic, but that is the reason it needs to be discussed more. The fact that it makes people uncomfortable in the first place is a major problem in the US and highlights the systemic racism that is glaringly evident in this country. Being of a different background or having a different skin color is not something to be ashamed of, yet it is treated as such when people tiptoe around the topic. Instead, it is much more beneficial to the progression of our society to have conversations about it and speak up when you notice someone saying something offensive or being treated differently because of their race.

     White Privilege: It Exists

     The sad reality of it is that I was born with this privilege; the option to ignore what is happening because it doesn’t affect me personally right? But it does affect me. It affects the people I love, the people I go to school with, the people who are also citizens of this country and around the world. And I was also born with the privilege to speak and be heard in society because of the color of my skin. The fact that many are denied this basic right based for that same reason is sickening and it would be negligent to not use these inherent advantages to make a change so that everyone is afforded the same privileges.

     Something that continues to baffle me is aggression towards the idea that white privilege exists. A family member told me that white privilege cannot be real because he had gone through hardships in his lifetime. That mindset is what is hindering this movement and diminishing the voices of the Black community. This is not said to diminish the hardships felt by all, but there is a difference between hardship and oppression. Our country was built on the backs of slaves; white people have prospered off of Black oppression. For that reason, white people are privileged. We have inherent advantages over BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, People of Color) because of the racial inequality and injustice that is ingrained in society.

     The Evidence is Clear

     Many examples of this have been flooding social media lately, particularly exposing the injustices faced by the Black community regarding the social justice system and police brutality. Even more than just that, however, BIPOC are constantly not acknowledged by society, whether that be professionally or medically.

     Even hospitals often do not listen to their Black patients, often deeming their complaints as an overreaction when in fact, their condition is life threatening.

     I recently heard the story of a person I went to high school with who is a Black and Latino person. He went to the hospital with a severe knee injury and despite being in excruciating pain, he was told by his doctor that he was making it up. It turned out that he had torn a tendon and needed surgery, after which that same doctor told him he was surprised that he could even walk. This is only one of many examples of when the Black community is maltreated in the medical world.

     I recently read an article about a Black medical student who, in noticing how they were only taught how to see symptoms of a disease on light skin in school, created a handbook to help diagnose patients with darker skin (Read more here). This is a major flaw in the medical field that I had not even thought of before reading this. That in itself is white privilege, brining to light one of the many struggles that BIPOC are always facing that white people simply cannot relate to.

     Stepping out and Making a Change

     I am not a perfect ally. I am certain I have made mistakes and I will probably continue to make mistakes. But I acknowledge our reality and am committed to making a conscious effort to do and be better. I encourage you to do the same.

     Speak up and make the change we need to see happen. Call your City Council–your local and state legislators.Vote. Do not simply be a bystander when you see a BIPOC being verbally or physically attacked. Call people out on their casual racism and bring light to why what they said was offensive. Have those uncomfortable conversations. Make them comfortable. Do something.

     It is not our fault that society is the way it is, but it will be our fault if it continues. The need for change cannot be ignored. It is our responsibility to take what we know and work to ensure true equality, no matter one’s skin color.

     If I have learned anything throughout the Black Lives Matter Movement, it is that it is much better to speak up, be wrong, and grow from that mistake than to not say anything at all. It is uncomfortable, but no progress has ever been made when confined by the familiar and the comfortable.

418. Podcast: The Long-Term Impact of Conflict on People with Disabilities in Gulu

     1:13 pm 2 Comments

419. So Much More than a Blanket!

     August 5, 2020 3:45 pm 2 Comments

     So Much More Than a Blanket!

     The most recent blog from Brigid, a current AP intern, about quilting has encouraged me to write another blog of my own on this subject so dear to my heart.

     Quilting is so much more than making a cover to keep someone warm.  When a person takes up needle and thread and fabric with the goal of making a quilt, so many things happen.  Quilts can memorialize – a person, a place, an event.  They can represent something happy, or sad or momentous.  Quilts can tell a story – of love or loss, of new life and old memories.  Quilts can allow the maker to create ideas that words may not allow.  Over the centuries, quilting has been a way for women, in particular, to make their voices heard even when they were denied a voice.  They can make the world stop ignoring a growing health crisis. They have been given to people suffering from horrific losses in natural disasters, giving them hope.  Quilts have been given to wounded warriors as a thank you for their sacrifice and a recognition that they have not been forgotten.  They are provided to families of newborns in the neo-natal units of local hospitals and have been given to children who have been taken into foster care.  They have been provided as a way to brighten the lives of those living in homeless shelters.

     Quilts have raised money for good causes, whether holding an auction to support survivors of gender based violence, or raffling a quilt in order to buy books for a school in Africa.

     Quilts are also wonderful teaching tools.  When I share my quilts with students, I always talk about perseverance (it can take a long time to make a quilt) and kindness and generosity.  They’re always amazed when I tell them I don’t sell my quilts but I do give them away.   I talk about problem-solving and cooperation.  I even talk about history and mathematics and the Pythagorean Theorem!

     Quilts have a way of bringing people together.  Of comforting.  And even of helping to heal some very deep wounds.  There is a therapeutic effect for the maker in crafting a simple design and sharing the story with others.

     I have assembled quilts for the Advocacy Project for eight years, and have had the pleasure and honor of working directly with our partners in Nepal and Kenya to create quilts reflecting their lives and struggles.  I just wish I could fully convey what these projects have meant to me and to the women who have come together to raise their needles and their voices.  The power of quilts lies in the stories they tell and the people behind them.   I hope everyone is listening to them!

       

     

     Family members who lost loved ones in the disappearances in Nepal, came together to create this memorial quilt which will help them as they lobby the government for justice.

                                                                                                               

     

     Salaiton Lenguris and Joyce Leriro are two of the artists who created beadwork for the Kenya Cow Quilt. This project brought together women from two tribes to work collaboratively to create the motifs and self-portraits on this quilt.

      

      

420. 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.

      

421. Ode to Quilting

     July 30, 2020 7:02 pm 4 Comments

     A Gift Recognized

     A specific childhood memory of mine is my grandma and grandpa saying, “Brigid, you really have a gift.” They had just bought me a huge notebook filled with large, blank sheets of paper (which, for me, garnered feelings equivalent to running in a wide-open field or trotting through freshly fallen snow). My grandparents never let me forget how much I loved drawing and painting, two skills which they’ve helped cultivate by constantly purchasing me art supplies and gracefully complementing my most recent works.

     

     Possibly the earliest piece of evidence capturing my love of art.

     Perhaps in an attempt to remain humble, I have always let the idea that I was in any way “gifted” with artistic skill go in one ear and out the other. Still, this has never stopped me from adoring an empty canvas, new watercolor set, or the smell of freshly sharpened pencils.

     Hidden Talents

     My father is often my partner in crime during my art sessions. I swear one of his many life dreams is to move to a distant city and travel with a collapsible easel by his side. Anytime I laid out my watercolors or pens he would be working along, right there next to me.

     Due to my perceptive nature and tendency to over-analyze things, I always sensed he was unsatisfied with his work. My dad often claimed his drawings were too squished and mine were somehow “better.” This is all to say I always felt as if I was serving as a channel for him to finally accomplish his dream of becoming a successful artist.

     More recently, however, my dad has found a passion for poetry. His skills are unrivaled by anyone I’ve ever seen that wasn’t old, dead, or required to be read for high school English class. More importantly, he now recognizes poetry as his avenue for art…

     You see, my dad understands that he is an artist… just not in the way he originally planned.

     AP: A Channel for Expression

     

     One example of the many quilt squares made by partners of AP. This square is from the Fourth Middle Eastern Refugee Quilt, produced in Jordan. Each flower in the image reflects a challenge overcome by the artist.

     Being involved with the Advocacy Project over the last two months has introduced me to two other forms of art: embroidery and quilting. I assisted with the Sister Artists auction in June and have become acquainted with various quilt projects (in hopes to jump-start the creation of a quilt catalogue for AP).

     One captivating thing about these quilts is how varied they are. Some are from Latin America in Belize and Peru, others from Africa in Mali and Kenya… Some are stitched, others painted… Some are about animals, others about sexual assault…

     But what is truly captivating is how they display the ability for humans to tell their stories through art.

     Ecasa Mwenembele from the Democratic Republic of the Congo poses with her quilt square (shown right).

     This more somber image by Ecasa Mwenembele warns other Congolese women: collect water and firewood and tend to the fields in groups.

      

     What Would Life Be Without Art?

     Before arriving at AP I was greatly unfamiliar with quilting and embroidery. Yet, amidst my exploration for an internship this past spring, I discovered and was drawn to the AP website’s “Quilts” tab. Using art to not only share stories but allow others to work through difficult emotions was something my inward “gift” of art deeply connected with.

     Art can be a product of trauma. I may ignorantly say I’ve never been affected by any extremely traumatic events, but I do know that art has always been, and will continue to be, a large part of my life (whether it be in the form of music, drawing, writing, dancing, theater, or quilting). After all, in a world that is confusing, sad, and lately very unhappy, can’t we all just enjoy the joy and solace that art brings, whatever form it’s in.

     And remember… Just as my dad figured out, to be an artist does not mean you have to be “good” at drawing… only open to trying something new!

422. Challenges in the labor force for Americans with disabilities

     4:25 pm 3 Comments

     This year the United States celebrates the thirtieth anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act, which strengthens other laws that already existed on the books to prevent discrimination against citizens who live with disabilities – particularly in the area of employment.  The ADA was a complement to the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and subsequent acts which made it illegal to discriminate against people based on their race, national origin, or gender.  In 1990, the new addition to the law made it illegal to discriminate based on disability.  Nevertheless, according to a research brief compiled by the ADA National Network, Americans with disabilities continue to experience workplace discrimination in various forms.

     The research brief describes a number of different cases where people with disabilities have been excluded from certain decisions and activities in their workplaces, due to colleagues’ assumptions that these individuals are not capable or competent enough to weigh in on certain decisions or contribute as fully as other peers.  Frequently, people with disabilities who are applying for jobs face the dilemma of whether to disclose their disability in their application or to do so later.  Either choice frequently comes with its own set of repercussions.

     To illustrate, the brief cites one case study where participants sent mock job applications, and “those who disclosed disability (either spinal cord injury or Autism) received 26% fewer expressions of employer interest than applicants that did not include a disability disclosure.”  Indeed, the statistics that the US Department of Labor reported in 2019 bear out these findings, indicating the presence of hiring discrimination.  While unemployment among Americans without a disability was 3.5 percent, the figure was more than twice as high for those with disabilities, at 7.3 percent.  These examples demonstrate that, in spite of protections established by the ADA, corporate America still needs to take more responsibility for educating and training its hiring teams so that they can check their subconscious bias and recognize the value of hiring people with disabilities.

     The hiring process is only the first obstacle that a person with a disability must confront in entering the American workforce.  Even for those who successfully become employed, keeping that job and not feeling undervalued by colleagues and managers present another set of challenges.  The ADA National Network’s research brief cites an additional survey in which employees with disabilities reported experiencing disadvantages at work.  One third of these respondents indicated “that they had experienced negative bias in the workplace,” while 47 percent stated “that they would never achieve a leadership role in their company, regardless of their performance or qualifications.”  Discouraging experiences such as these will often make individuals who live with a physical or mental condition hesitant to disclose their challenges at all, whether at the time of applying for jobs or after being hired.

     Disclosing a disability in the workplace should not place an employee at risk for further stigmatization and discrimination, but too often, the lived experiences of those who have the courage to be open about their condition suggest that openness will be viewed by society as weakness.  In the face of such seemingly high potential for negative consequences, then, why should employees with disabilities remain motivated to use their own experiences and knowledge to benefit themselves and others?  The research brief, fortunately, also provides a promising statistic: compared to those who did not disclose, individuals who disclosed their disabilities reported feeling “more content (65% versus 27%) and less isolated (8% versus 37%) at work.”  Despite all of the repercussions that may follow, I firmly believe, in accordance with this last finding, that openly divulging a disability when applying for employment or at the workplace is the right approach.

     The advantages to being up front about a disability ultimately outweigh the disadvantages.  For instance, the Americans with Disabilities Act requires that those who have a disability receive reasonable accommodations in the workplace.  Moreover, disclosing one’s own experiences opens up opportunities to educate coworkers and, in some cases, clients.  During my two years of working with Apple, I once met with a client who found out that I was visually impaired and immediately questioned my ability to perform my job adequately.  I explained to him that a physical limitation does not translate to incompetence or interfere with the abilities to analyze, judge, and communicate effectively.  After he saw the final results of the tasks that I delivered to him, he apologized and acknowledged that interacting or working with someone with a disability was not something he fully understood.  My client’s learning experience is the very reason why I believe that employers should hire more people who live with disabilities because these individuals will serve as additional assets when it comes to inspiring and educating members of society.

423. Summer news digest – Supporting Community Leaders During COVID-19

     12:31 pm Leave a Comment

     Summer news digest – Supporting Community Leaders During COVID-19

424. 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.

425. 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.”

426. My Ability is What Defines Me

     July 24, 2020 5:29 pm 3 Comments

     Tak! Tung! Boom, boom! I hear gunshots around me. My crying mother runs to pick me up. We run to a protected shelter nearby. 

     I was 7 years old, and this was 1997, at the height of the civil war in Uganda. I was scared. The one place that was supposed to be safe, our home, was not safe anymore. 

     Since then my life has changed completely. I was one among thousands of night commuters whose parents sacrificed for us to stay. We children had to sleep in protected shelters and under verandahs of shops in town for safety. The only thing that distracted me from these nightmares was playing football with my friends. It made me laugh and forget the terrible incidents I experienced. 

     Due to the war, many people became victims of landmines and injuries, as well as diseases like polio, which increased the number of disabled people in the region. 

     Children with disabilities are labeled, stigmatized and discriminated by their non-disabled peers. They are seen as useless and no-one wants to play with them. Even in their homes, they are not given the opportunity to be useful in their own way. They are often hidden from the community. 

     I remember two disabled children in our neighborhood: Sam, a landmine victim, and Saidi, who had Polio. Both were bullied and excluded by fellow peers. Knowing how passionate and interactive they are, I developed empathy  because I could observe how they lost self-esteem. Later they even dropped out of school. I felt bad and encouraged my peers to include them in games, activities and even our football team. This greatly changed the mindset of non-disabled children, and it changed the attitudes of the disabled children towards themselves. 

     At a certain point in my life, I experienced what it was like to be labeled and body shamed. For the first time, I could relate to what being disabled feels like. That was the day I was not allowed to play in the Gulu kids’ football team as I didn’t have the required build. Being a passionate football player, I was hurt, and for a short period, I lost my confidence. It was the first time that my physical appearance became my disability.

     In the end it strengthened my interest to do something to overcome this attitude. With a good amount of anger, I decided to stand up for those who remain outsiders, facing stigma and discrimination because of their disability. Therefore, I pursued my studies in special needs education and I combined that with my passion for sports. Thus I later became an adaptive sports trainer of trainers. 

     In order to understand the beauty of inclusive sports, I had to learn to play wheelchair basketball.

     Being a “walker,” I felt disabled trying to wheel and balance, and at the same time learning how to handle the ball. While playing, I needed a lot of practice to enjoy the speed, the turnings, and the falls. The beauty of this game is when you race past your opponent and show your skills of maneuvering the wheelchair in a professional manner. While playing, I am always amazed by how my disabled teammates have the skills to fall, get back into their wheelchairs, and play as if they had never done anything differently.

     Later, I became interested in deaf people playing football, basketball, and athletics. One might wonder: “Could they hear the referee’s whistle?” The deaf can play all these games without any limitations. The referee uses two flags: green to continue or start, and red to stop or foul. In deaf football, sign language is the common language used by players and coaches, and I had to learn sign language in order to include myself in the deaf team.

     In terms of sports for the blind, one of the many games available is “Showdown.” It is a bit like table tennis. Both players are blindfolded and they have to listen to a ball with a bell inside. It is fast and requires some training, but it can be played by both the blind and the sighted.

     I want to see a society in which disability does not define our ability. With Ability Sports Africa I will foster reverse inclusion through team sports and individual adventures. I want to see togetherness in our community, through which our differences of disability won’t matter anymore.

427. 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?”

428. 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.

429. Mask of Empowerment

     1:21 pm Leave a Comment

     Mask of Empowerment

430. “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.

431. Mask of Empowerment

     1:39 pm 3 Comments

     Washington, DC, July 17: President Trump’s mockery of face-masks will go down as one of his more spectacular missteps. It’s not just that masks save lives. It’s that the act of making these unassuming attachments has lifted the spirits of women around the world and given them a sense of purpose during a period of anxiety and isolation.

     The Advocacy Project has witnessed this at first hand while supporting several small mask-making projects in the Global South and working with quilters in the US who have assembled advocacy quilts with us through the years. Many of our quilting friends have now turned to making masks. It has clearly been quite a ride.

     

     The New River Valley Mask Makers have produced over 12,000 masks for under-served communities in Virginia.

      

     We know quilters to be formidably focused, but several say that they were initially paralyzed by the speed of the COVID-19 lock-down. “I was frozen and could not sew or create,” recalls Paula Golden, who has been named Teacher of the Year by the Professional Quilter Magazine.

     Paula quickly recovered and joined the New River Valley Mask Makers in southwest Virginia, a rapidly-growing group of over 600 mask-makers that has made over 12,000 masks, including 2,000 surgical masks for EMTs and clinics in rural areas. “Making masks gives me a purpose and a structure to my day,” writes Paula. “Once my mask-making quota for the week is met I can garden and quilt with a clear conscience.”

     

     Grace McGuire, Maryland, into Tigers.

     Hope Barton, who recently contributed an art quilt for the Sister Artists auction, also remembers the initial feeling of drift when the crisis struck. “I couldn’t seem to focus. I just wandered the house, didn’t seem to know what to do with myself. And then I got requests from my family to make masks. Suddenly I could DO something that would actually help. Maybe I couldn’t hold my newborn grandson in Denver, but I could protect his parents by mailing them masks.”

     Bobbi Fitzsimmons, an AP Board member who has taught quilting in Nepal and Kenya, was still recovering from the loss of her husband when the pandemic struck in March, deepening her sense of isolation. So Bobbi turned to her trusted sewing machine and began making masks for the nursing home which had cared for her husband. It has helped her to deal with the loneliness: “Sometimes it is so quiet that I don’t remember to turn on the radio. Back there in the sewing room, the machine is humming, I watch my masks stack up.” (Check out Bobbi’s AP blog about making masks).

     

     Haby Konate, Mali.

     Quilter Alycia Chu in San Francisco has made over 400 masks with a Pickleball design to encourage senior citizens to play the game and exercise. Over 500 Pickleball players have signed up for Alycia’s email and she is now receiving commissions. She hopes that her masks will becomes a symbol of “unity and love for the game.”

     Masks have also energized the youngest member of our AP team, Grace McGuire, 17, a senior at the Walt Whitman School in Bethesda. PBS interviewed Grace making masks in April and she has since gone on a creative romp – making over 300 masks and raising $200 for the inspiring mask-maker Mama Cave in Uganda. Grace is now making masks to promote Tiger bags made by wives of the disappeared in Nepal. “I like to know I’m helping,” she says simply.

     All of these mask-makers will confirm that stitching and sewing can be profoundly therapeutic. This will come as no surprise to the aid workers who organized knitting for traumatized women and girls in Bosnia 25 years ago this month, following the massacre of their menfolk at Srebrenica.

     Nor will it seem strange to quilters who love the sense of companionship that comes from quilting in a group. The pandemic may make it impossible for mask-makers to meet in person, but Bobbi enjoys the weekly Zoom meetings with others from her group in North Carolina known as Mission Possible: Mask Wearing is Caring.

     

     Mama Cave, Gulu, Uganda.

     And this is just in the United States. Mask-makers are now a global movement. Bobbi’s group is a member of the Open Source Medical Supplies, a network of 73,500 members in 55 counties who have produced an astounding 14.5 million masks.

     In Zimbabwe, Constance Mugari has made hundreds of masks and delivered them along with food and soap to vulnerable families in Harare. In Mali, Abi Konate has made masks for local medical centers. In Uganda, Mama Cave and her team have produced 600 masks for persons with disability and in so doing laid the foundation for a small business. In western Nepal, Sarita Thapa donated her 200 masks to clinics.

     All of which leads to a deeply paradoxical conclusion: for all the evil it has wrought, the COVID-19 pandemic is creating social capital, empowering women, building networks, and showing yet again the formidable power of women’s civil society.

     

     Bobbi Fitzsimmons, North Carolina.

     History will honor these mask-makers for acting decisively while governments dithered. Yet while most politicians have now come to their senses, it still angers Bobbi that so many lives have been lost and the virus is again coursing through America’s veins.

     Other mask-makers are dreading the prospect of a second wave in the Fall. Hope Barton is preparing to make masks for children when schools re-open. Bobbi is wondering how masks can even be worn by children in a school environment that is already a “petri dish for germs.” Some mask-makers are simply burned out.

     But none of this will slow the tide. Writes Paula Golden: “I make masks because I care. If we do not take care of each other for the greater good, who are we as a human race?”

     “All of which leads to a deeply paradoxical conclusion: for all the evil it has wrought, the COVID-19 pandemic is creating social capital, empowering women, building networks, and showing yet again the formidable power of women’s civil society.”

432. The COVID 19 Pandemic – the disproportionate burden on PWDs

     July 15, 2020 12:50 pm 4 Comments

     

     Face masks and social distancing at the GDPU: Patrick’s colleagues Emma and Faruk observe safety pecautions.

     Globally, nearly 12.2 million people have been affected, by COVID-19, with the death toll exceeding 552,000. As of Wednesday, July 8, 2020 Uganda had reported 977 with no deaths. But it is clear that the impact of the pandemic is worse for persons with disabilities (PWDs), who are the most vulnerable people.
     

     PWDs constitute 12.4% of the population of Uganda. As a result, any intervention and strategy that does not include them will in the long run prevent the elimination of COVID 19. Nursing homes may be held liable for infection because of their daily life challenges owing to their condition.

     Lock-down has been undertaken by most countries of the world including Uganda for the right reasons. All over the world, the deadly Coronavirus has affected every section of the community.

     But in Uganda it has hit vulnerable members of the community, particularly PWDs. The government has made no effort to design specific standard operating procedures (SOPs) to take care of the special needs of PWDs.  As a result, people with disabilities have to adjust to the general SOPs put in place to cater for the general population by the ministry of health.

     The challenge to PWDs
     

     Some measures undertaken by the Uganda Government to contain the spread of COVID-19 pandemic are particularly difficult for people with disabilities.

     For example, everyone is required to observe social distancing of at least four metres. But this is difficult for persons with visual impairment since they have to depend on support from another person while carrying out their daily duties.

     Inaccessible health centres and facilities also make it difficult for PWDs to access the services due to limited ramps. Some of the ramps do not meet the accessibility standards in the Building Control Act. This makes it hard for persons with mobility to access health services, especially during this pandemic with stringent guidelines in place.

     The lack of sign language interpreters at health centres make it hard for deaf people to access proper health facilities since they are not able to effectively communicate with the health workers. Under the law, Resident District Commissioners (RDCs) should be called on by phone in case of an emergency. But this also presents an obvious challenge for certain categories of PWDs, such as the deaf.

     As a result, these categories may go unattended, worsening the fight against the virus. This situation would be helped if sign language interpreters could accompany them in such circumstances.

     Finally, there are no standard operating procedures on how to deal with vulnerable members of the public such as mothers and pregnant women with disabilities in the government’s COVID-19 response document. 

     Recommendations 

     My personal recommendation from living with disability is that tackling the fight against COVID 19 on people with disabilities requires a deliberate inclusion approach by all stakeholders. The following principles, which adhere to a human-rights approach to disability, need to be adopted:

     Awareness of disability and its implications, provide information regarding disability to health professionals, and COVID 19 task force to ensure there is up-to-date knowledge on prevalence and impact of disability.  Also, people with disabilities should be asked to build awareness about COVID 19 as they are much at ease to freely interact with their peers. Encourage awareness-raising by disability service providers and disabled peoples’ organizations.

     Participation is another core principle. Build relationships with people with a disability, ensure direct consultation with PWDs to identify their health-related barriers and develop strong linkages between health and disability stakeholders.

      Comprehensive accessibility: by removing physical, communication, policy and attitudinal barriers. This may vary between individuals. Not all people who are blind will have been taught Braille. Likewise, not all individuals who are deaf or hard of hearing will have sign language skills or have the capacity to use large print, Braille, pictorial, audio and sign language. This should be based on individual requirements.

     Mainstreaming disability into COVID 19 standard operating procedures (SOPs) is one way to ensure that many of the barriers experienced by people with a disability are removed and the right of PWDs to health is achieved. 

     This I believe will go a long way in reducing the burden of COVID-19 on people with disabilities in a low-resourced country like Uganda.

433. “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.

434. Remote Advocacy Produces A Local Breakthrough for Conflict Survivors in Nepal

     July 13, 2020 9:53 am Leave a Comment

     Remote Advocacy Produces A Local Breakthrough for Conflict Survivors in Nepal

435. My Journey Towards Anti-Racism

     3:29 am 4 Comments

     My Story

     The first thing I want to make clear is that I am still learning and growing; I aim to continue learning for as long as I live. Learning for me and my family has always been a survival mechanism, ever since our move to America when I was six. Not knowing the language or culture forced us to learn to survive in this country. It was especially challenging to move into a rural and isolated town, where an overwhelming number of the town population was white. Now, I am not going to sit here and deny the fact that my family and I didn’t face racism –even if it mainly came from my classmates. Likewise, I will also admit that as a straight, able-bodied, non-black person of color, I hold a lot of privilege and I have made mistakes in the past. Yet, at my core, I know that I am against all and any forms of racism. Before, I use to believe that if I simply did not participate in racist behavior, I was doing my part in this world. Today, I know that is not nearly enough and that I can do so much more to become an ally for those around me.

     Another important thing to know about me is that as an International Affairs and History/Political Science double major, I strive to be informed about politics and news. With that being said, I can recall when the #Black Lives Matter Movement (BLM) occupied news channels in 2013, way before the George Floyd incident. I recall when headlines were filled with updates about the death of Trayvon Martin, then Philando Castile, and so on. In my freshman year of college, I recall dissecting news articles on how the media framed the BLM movement in the past.

     

     Source: Kevin Hagen For New York Daily News

     Why Anti-racism?

     But today, I am not looking at 2013 news articles about the BLM. Instead, I along with millions of other Americans, are witnessing the recurrences of the past flood back, due to the negligence of society to protect Black lives. Many nations today only exist due to the exploitation of black, indigenous, and people of color (BIPOC), but continue hatred towards its creators. But I am hopeful that things can change. That is why I joined AP—to help those marginalized voices be heard. Additionally, I have realized that being non-racist is not enough and that my inaction benefits no one. That is why I aim to be anti-racist.

     The difference between non-racist and anti-racist (yes there is a difference) is that non-racism means to passively denounce racism by not engaging in racist behaviors/slurs while anti-racism means actively opposing racism via addressing, confronting, and eliminating racism/racist behaviors. I think Angela Davis puts it nicely in the following quote:

     

     Source: Pinterest

     Ways to Take Action

     Again, I want to reiterate that I am on this journey to becoming anti-racist and that I am in no means an expert on this topic.  I aim to always keep learning and educating myself and I hope you do too. If you choose to join me on this journey to becoming anti-racist or simply want to learn more, I encourage you to do the following: enroll in this highly informative anti-racism training (enrollment opens July 17th), listen to BIPOC stories, read black stories, support black-owned businesses, engage in conversations about race even if it’s uncomfortable, call out racist behavior, or simply start by doing a google search for the terms such as “microaggressions”, “white supremacy in law enforcement”, “redlining”, “structural inequality in education”, “brown eye blue eye experiment”, “school to prison pipeline”, or “implicit bias”.  If you have anything to add to this list, please feel free to comment below!

     Some Videos to Watch:

     • https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YrHIQIO_bdQ
     • https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0sdC6RxaY-Q&list=PLzUvU2siaXkE6SL9-QFH_CSzU8-dXCR7r&index=7
     • https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IfYRzxeMdGs
     • https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGvoXeXCoUY&list=PLzUvU2siaXkE6SL9-QFH_CSzU8-dXCR7r&index=16
     • https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xp8YYVxIeVQ&list=PLzUvU2siaXkE6SL9-QFH_CSzU8-dXCR7r&index=2
     • https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MbdxeFcQtaU&list=PLzUvU2siaXkE6SL9-QFH_CSzU8-dXCR7r&index=3
     • https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QijH4UAqGD8&list=PLzUvU2siaXkE6SL9-QFH_CSzU8-dXCR7r&index=4
     • https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TrbeuJRPM0o&t=1s

     Some Things to Read:

     • This Google Drive full of black history and activism reads
     • The Table: Stories from Black Women in Student Affairs by Various Authors
     • Becoming by Michelle Obama
     • Clap When You Land by Elizabeth Acevedo
     • The Black Flamingo by Dean Atta

      

      

      

436. 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.

      

437. Dear Highschoolers…

     July 8, 2020 1:35 pm 3 Comments

     Since the murder of George Floyd, the United States and the world have opened up a long overdue conversation on systematic racism and social justice.  While these conversations have also been occurring recently in my own Walt Whitman High School community, we already have been grappling with these issues prior to George Floyd’s murder.

     In Fall 2019, we had several racist incidents  at our school. These resulted in a new initiative called One Whitman–a mandatory class held once a week that is intended to increase tolerance and decrease hate in our school community. Just one month ago, white students at my high school spray-painted a racist slur on school property–the second time this has happened at my school this year.  It is extremely frustrating and saddening to me to see how my school, which is labeled as highly progressive, can be so intolerant and systematically racist. 

     The discourse on issues of systemic racism and police brutality occurring both nationally and within my own community has made me think more critically. The conversations on these issues may often be uncomfortable and painful, especially as those who hold privilege (like myself) are forced to account for our own privilege and understand our role in allowing systemic racism in our communities. But these conversations are necessary and overdue. As a privileged, white 17 year old girl, my role right now generally is to shut up and step back.  But for the intent of this blog – here are my three suggestions for what I think my fellow white high school peers should or could be doing. 

     1.   Listen

     Too many of my white peers feel the need to post on Instagram and other mediums to show how “woke” they are with performative activisim. Don’t. We need to drop the mic and get out of the way of BIPOC activists. We should prioritize giving space and access to Black voices who can talk more authentically about racism than is possible for me or most of my peers.  As white people, it is our job to use our privilege and platform to amplify the messages of black voices, instead of drawing attention to our own.

     2.   Educate

     Everyone can continue to educate themselves and learn more about ways systemic racism manifests in our everyday lives. There are many anti-racist books, articles, podcasts, films, etc. A good and important use of your time could be to educate yourself and your parents.  Instead of watching Hamilton over and over, watch Ava DuVernay’s film 13.  I have Trevor Noah’s Born a Crime at my bedside table.  The New York Times has a great reading list. Again, our education should focus on learning from BIPOC activists and educators–not white people. 

     3.   Act

     Black students at my high school have started an Instagram account called @blackatwhitman, which allows black alumni and current students to share their personal experiences with racism at my school.  I read and follow these posts daily. Students from my school had a protest in my community of Bethesda, and I supported it by bringing water and snacks.  My sister and I put up signs on our street that advocated for justice following the murder of George Floyd. Although these have not always been popular with our neighbors, they created necessary conversations on our street about police brutality. 

     Like I said, it is important to avoid acting or posting simply to feel better about ourselves or present ourselves as “one of the good white people.” We should prioritize becoming actively anti-racist–even if no one else is watching. (And I recognize the irony in this statement given that I have just written a whole blog of my own thoughts on how to be a more supportive white person.) Hold your friends, family and, most importantly, yourself accountable to educating yourself and being actively anti-racist every single day.

     To my fellow white high schoolers, this isn’t about us. Take the time to listen to our fellow BIPOC classmates, educate yourself and your family on our national and local history of systemic racism and act accordingly. 

438. COVID-19 hits Zimbabwe – and how we are responding

     July 6, 2020 2:57 pm 4 Comments

     

     Constance, right, and her husband Dickson, with bottles of Clean Girl soap – WAP’s special brand.

      

     Corona Virus pandemic has left Zimbabwe in an extremely difficult situation. As of end March to date, the number of infections and deaths from the pandemic remains low – 617 confirmed cases and 7 deaths- compared to many other nations that have seen higher infection and death rate  https://www.worldometers.info/coronavirus/country/zimbabwe/-.

     President E. Munangagwa announced a 21-day lockdown which began on 30 March- a message which was hard to bear- but with a frail health infrastructure, the only way Zimbabweans have a chance is through strict preventative measures. It was later extended several times in this period of three months in a bid to contain the spread of the corona virus. The declaration ordered all citizens to stay at home, “except in respect of essential movements related to seeking health services, the purchase of food”, or carrying out responsibilities that are in the critical services sectors.

     Other measures include the shutting down of public markets in the informal sector, except those that sell food.

     None of this was easy to adapt in Zimbabwe, considering that the country has an economic profile similar to that of many developing countries. The difference is that its informal sector makes up a much higher percentage of the overall economy.

     According to a 2018 International Monetary Fund report, Zimbabwe’s informal economy is the largest in Africa, and second only to Bolivia in the world. The sector accounts for at least 60% of all of Zimbabwe’s economic activity. Even those employed in the formal economy augments their income through informal sector activities such as cross-border trading.  A very high number of Zimbabweans make a living in this sector, or rely on it for food, clothing, fuel, and cash. Most of these activities still remain on hold.

     In addition, Zimbabwe has an added set of problems: its economy is broken. A nationwide lockdown announced without any stimulus financial package to cushion the poor and businesses from the impact of the lockdown inflicted further damage to an already extremely fragile economy.

     Everything became hard, only restricted movement visits to supermarkets and pharmacies within a five-kilometer radius of people’s homes was given.

     In enforcing restrictions on movement and gatherings, security forces arrested thousands of people with some being brutally handled and tortured.

     This situation affected most activities/ efforts carried out by civil society organizations including that of the Women Advocacy Project in serving the marginalized groups. WAP’s girls could not manage to carry on with their weekly educational and soap making meetings.  Many people struggled to access food, water, and medical care.

     The Women Advocacy Project is playing an effective role in helping stop the spread of the virus in impoverished communities. With financial support given to us by Action for World Solidarity, Rockflower, the Advocacy Project and the Pollination Project, WAP launched an Emergency Project aimed at fighting the spread of corona virus pandemic in poor and slum communities. WAP is donating disinfectant kits that include reusable masks, hand washing soap and the WHO printed information posters with main COVID-19 prevention messages to guide people and families on how to effectively practice preventive measures. The kits are being distributed in local health clinics and poor families directly in Chitungwiza and Epworth townships. This is possibly one of the best ways to support our communities and also create increased awareness for prevention.

     In addition, WAP has also distributed small food hampers to 100 families in both Chitungwiza and Epworth.

      

439. Finding Purpose in Isolation

     11:08 am 2 Comments

     “The purpose of life is not to be happy.  It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make a difference that you have lived and lived well.”  Ralph Waldo Emerson

     During a time of overwhelming crisis, we sometimes lose our belief that one person can make a difference.  But, as we try to make sense of what is happening, try to differentiate what is real from what is purported, try to keep ourselves safe, it helps to think about how we can be part of the solution and then find a way to continue to make ourselves useful.

     I have been making fabric masks since mid-March of this year.  I started making them for family when I returned from Vietnam where face masks have been part of the culture for a while. I then donated a couple of dozen to the nursing home where my husband received care before his death.  In the early days of the pandemic, regular supplies for face masks had dried up and they were desperate.  Friends who know I sew, began asking if I would make masks for them, too.  Suddenly, I had found a purpose in this time of isolation when other avenues of reaching out were closed.  It wasn’t long before someone asked if they could pay for the masks.  My response was “no,” but I realized that perhaps they were looking for a way to make a difference too.  I suggested paying it forward with a donation to the Advocacy Project.  And so they did.  The response was beyond what I could have imagined.

     The gift of a Protective Face Mask encouraged others to give.  The money that was collected was then used to support mask-making projects in a number of AP’s partner countries.  Women began making masks for their families, as I had, then for their friends and then for others who were willing to pay for them.  Some of our partners started or continued soap-making projects with this AP support, soap being as necessary a commodity as masks.  Where income had dried up due to quarantine, there was now a small lifeline to help them buy food and supplies for their families.

     Now, we are looking for ways to expand and sustain these projects.   The women are excited to continue their work and to use the skills they’ve learned, to welcome new members into their groups, and to consider additional ways of supporting their families.  Just recently, there was an email from our partner in Kenya.  In speaking of some of the possibilities for this work, she said, “It would be wonderful if you could find the money to support these – the Advocacy Project has already made such a difference to the lives of the ladies who took part.”

     Hard times? Yes. Distressing times?  Oh, yes! But we can still make a difference.  Even in isolation, you can take action that may just reach around the world.  Making face masks has improved the well-being of my own community, it has generated funds for others to be able to do the same, and it has renewed my own belief that each person has the potential to make a difference – and that usefulness can make you happy.

     

     Bobbi with more masks ready to go – feeling happy!

440. My Southern Roots (updated)

     8:05 am Leave a Comment

     Looking back on my childhood growing up in south Arkansas during the Civil Rights Movement, has made me realize how complicated and ingrained systemic racism is and how important it is to learn about its roots as we move to a more just society.

     Southern Segregated Culture

     

     It all comes down to education. We need to learn not only the good stuff about our country, but we should learn about–and from–our mistakes, too. The recent nationwide protests have produced many constructive, reasoned conversations on these painful topics and more people seem to be listening. Let’s hope substantial change comes from all of this soul searching. The world that we leave to our children depends on it.

     I was born in Warren, Arkansas in 1954, the year of Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka and three years before the desegregation of Little Rock’s Central High School. My hometown of 6500 was about 60% white and 40% black. No Latinos, Asians or any other ethnicities. No Jews and only a handful of Catholics. Most white and black people were church-going Protestants, but there was no mixing of the races in churches or in any other social context.

     It was a forestry town where my father was the chief management forester of a large company that employed mostly white people, especially in the good-paying positions. It was a very segregated town. I would occasionally see black people doing domestic or yard work at someone’s house or I’d see them at the courthouse in the middle of town, but not very often in the stores and never in restaurants or the YMCA. And there was a separate entrance for the movie theater where black people could watch the movies from the balcony.   

     Civil Rights

     

     In my own home during the 1960s, race was rarely discussed. Even when the various civil rights marches happened and when Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated in Memphis in 1968, very little was said since those events occurred in big cities and had virtually no effect on our small-town lives. As far as I know, there was no KKK in my hometown and the few times that its activities were discussed at home, my parents did not approve.

     Despite that disapproval and with other big issues such as the Vietnam War, women’s lib, and political and social unrest swirling around, I’m sure my parents felt they had enough to deal with and wanted to keep our lives as “normal” as possible. And people didn’t want to be ostracized by their communities by taking a stand against such injustices since it’s very hard to turn your back on the people who have loved and nurtured you your whole life even if you sense that something is inherently wrong with that social structure. Right or wrong, it was better to keep quiet and hope that things would work out. And thus we became a part of the “Silent Majority.”

     School Integration  

     

     Despite the success of the Little Rock Nine in their brave quest to integrate the Little Rock Public Schools in 1957, desegregation moved very slowly through the southern states in the subsequent years.

     Starting in the late 1960s a few black children were integrated into the white schools, but full integration didn’t happen until January 1970 when desegregation could no longer be legally avoided. Despite the middle-of-the-school-year disruption in our academic progress—different teachers, different textbooks, etc.—the transition was quite peaceful. Of course, there were a few white parents who sent their kids to private schools in Little Rock, but by and large, most people kept their kids in the public school system. Integrating the schools was a big step in the Civil Rights Movement and eventually the “separate but equal” restrictions went away, but life in my hometown still remained largely segregated especially in churches and social organizations. 

     Broadened Perspectives

     

     Albert Pike statue toppled, June 20, 2020 Photo: Maya Alleruzzo / The Associated Press

      

     After graduating from high school in 1972, I went to a small liberal arts college in Memphis which broadened my outlook on the world somewhat, mostly by meeting and studying with people of other ethnicities and orientations. Most of the students there, however, were from the deep South with a similar upbringing as mine.

     Coming to DC for graduate school in the late 1970s though was, by far, the most eye-opening experience. Here were people from across the United States and all over the world, many drawn by jobs on Capitol Hill and other organizations associated with this world seat of power. Also, through my singing work in churches, synagogues, choral groups, and theaters, I met so many interesting and committed people of all races and creeds working and volunteering in a whole array of missions and organizations. What a great place to be during those years!

     I eventually married and became the mother of four terrific children, all grown now. Their public school education and upbringing in Silver Spring, MD was quite different from mine, but I believe much healthier because their friendships were less limited by racial and ethnic barriers. (According to this report, four of the top 10 most diverse cities in America are in Montgomery County, MD.) Of course, there were–and still are–challenges, but overall, my children’s individual outlooks are more open to people of other backgrounds. And many of these younger people have enriched my own life. 

     As much as I have learned through the years, I occasionally still have to check myself. For several decades I’ve thought the Confederate flag needed to be banned, but didn’t give much thought to the Confederate names of schools, highways or other places. Sometimes I didn’t even know the names were from that era. I’d never heard of Albert Pike who was from Arkansas and a Confederate general or Jubal Early, another Confederate general.

     So I’m very grateful to the current BLM Movement for bringing this information, as well as so many other things, to my attention. I personally think all of those recognitions—names of streets, buildings, monuments, etc.—need to be changed and Confederate statues removed from government and public spaces. Yes, they are a part of our history, but it is a shameful part of our history. Why do we want to honor that shame? 

     

     From Here On . . .

     It all comes down to education. We need to learn not only the good stuff about our country, but we should learn about–and from–our mistakes, too. The recent nationwide protests have produced many constructive, reasoned conversations on these painful topics and more people seem to be listening. Let’s hope substantial change comes from all of this soul searching. The world that we leave to our children depends on it. 

441. My Southern Roots

     July 4, 2020 3:10 pm 4 Comments

     Looking back on my childhood growing up in south Arkansas during the Civil Rights Movement, has made me realize how complicated and ingrained systemic racism is and how important it is to learn about its roots as we move to a more just society.
     
     Southern Segregated Culture
     I was born in Warren, Arkansas in 1954, the year of Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka and three years before the desegregation of Little Rock’s Central High School. My hometown of 6500 was about 60% white and 40% black. No Latinos, Asians or any other ethnicities. No Jewish people and only a handful of Catholics. Most white and black people were church-going Protestants, but there was no mixing of the races in churches or in any other social context. It was a forestry town where my father was the chief management forester of a large company that employed mostly white people, especially in the good-paying positions. It was a very segregated town. I would occasionally see black people doing domestic or yard work at someone’s house or I’d see them at the courthouse in the middle of town, but not very often in the stores and never in restaurants or the YMCA.

     

     There were separate drinking fountains and restrooms for “Colored” in the courthouse and government agencies. There were separate back entrances and waiting rooms in the hospital and doctors’ offices. And there was a separate entrance for the movie theater where black people could watch the movies from the balcony.   

     

     Civil Rights
     In my own home during the 1960s, race was rarely discussed. Even when the various civil rights marches happened and when Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated in Memphis in 1968, very little was said since those events occurred in big cities and had virtually no effect on our small-town lives. As far as I know, there was no KKK in my hometown and the few times that its activities were discussed at home, my parents did not approve. Despite that disapproval and with other big issues such as the Vietnam War, women’s lib, and political and social unrest swirling around, I’m sure my parents felt they had enough to deal with and wanted to keep our lives as “normal” as possible. And people didn’t want to be ostracized by their communities by taking a stand against such injustices since it’s very hard to turn your back on the people who have loved and nurtured you your whole life even if you sense that something is inherently wrong with that social structure. Right or wrong, it was better to keep quiet and hope that things would work out. And thus we became a part of the “Silent Majority.” 

     School Integration  
     Despite the success of the Little Rock Nine in their brave quest to integrate the Little Rock Public Schools in 1957, desegregation moved very slowly through the southern states in the subsequent years.

     

     Starting in the late 1960s a few black children were integrated into the white schools, but full integration didn’t happen until January 1970 when desegregation could no longer be legally avoided. Despite the middle-of-the-school-year disruption in our academic progress—different teachers, different textbooks, etc.—the transition was quite peaceful. Of course, there were a few white parents who sent their kids to private schools in Little Rock, but by and large, most people kept their kids in the public school system. Integrating the schools was a big step in the Civil Rights Movement and eventually the “separate but equal” restrictions went away, but life in my hometown still remained largely segregated especially in churches and social organizations. 

     Broadened Perspectives
     After graduating from high school in 1972, I went to a small liberal arts college in Memphis which expanded my outlook on the world somewhat, mostly by meeting and studying with people of other ethnicities and orientations. Most of the students there, however, were from the deep South with a similar upbringing as mine. Coming to DC for graduate school in the late 1970s though was, by far, the most eye-opening experience. Here were people from across the United States and all over the world, many drawn by jobs on Capitol Hill and other organizations associated with this world seat of power. Also, through my singing work in churches, synagogues, choral groups, and theaters, I met so many interesting and committed people of all races and creeds working and volunteering in a whole array of missions and organizations. What a great place to be during those years!

     I eventually married and became the mother of four terrific children, all grown now. Their public school education and upbringing in Silver Spring, MD was quite different from mine, but I believe much healthier because their friendships were less limited by racial and ethnic barriers. (According to this report, four of the top 10 most diverse cities in America are in Montgomery County, MD.) Of course, there were–and still are–challenges, but overall, my children’s individual outlooks are more open to people of other backgrounds. And many of these younger people have enriched my own life. 

     As much as I have learned through the years, I occasionally still have to check myself. For several decades I’ve thought the Confederate flag needed to be banned, but didn’t give much thought to the Confederate names of schools, highways or other places. Sometimes I didn’t even know the names were from that era. I’d never heard of Albert Pike who was from Arkansas and a Confederate general or Jubal Early, another Confederate general. So I’m very grateful to the current BLM Movement for bringing this information, as well as so many other things, to my attention. I personally think all of those recognitions—names of streets, buildings, monuments, etc.—need to be changed and Confederate statues removed from government and public spaces. Yes, they are a part of our history, but it is a shameful part of our history. Why do we want to honor that shame? 

     

     From Here On . . .
     It all comes down to education. We need to learn not only the good stuff about our country, but we should learn about–and from–our mistakes, too. The recent nationwide protests have produced many constructive, reasoned conversations on these painful topics and more people seem to be listening. Let’s hope substantial change comes from all of this soul searching. The world that we leave to our children depends on it. 

     

442. Disability is not disabling – quite the reverse

     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.

443. 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.

444. From Black Lives Matter to Colombia

     June 26, 2020 10:14 pm 3 Comments

     Anderson Arboleda

     Anderson Arboleda never made it to twenty. Five days before George Floyd’s murder, the nineteen-year-old died in the Puerto Tejada hospital of Colombia’s Cauca Department. The province police who beat Anderson Arboleda to death with batons claim the Afro-Colombian was violating social distancing laws. When, less than a month later, American troops arrived in Bogotá, Colombia, crowds of protestors wrapped through the streets.

     

     Most signs were decorated by anti-racist slogans. Some demonstrators, however, opted to burn handcrafted, cardboard American flags. My stomach dropped upon seeing these images on Instagram. To increse your instagram followers Increditools helps you.  Visit us for the best instazood instagram bot which  is designed to automate and grow your Instagram account.As the daughter and granddaughter of U.S. veterans, I am a patriot. Yet, I know that patriotism can’t be blind. To live up to our name as a defender of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, we must learn from the past (and present).

     A Troubling Legacy

     During the Cold War, the School of the Americas (SOA) – operated under the US Department of Defense and now titled the Western Hemisphere Institute for Security Cooperation (WHINSEC) – trained some of Latin America’s most notorious human rights abusers. Alumni such as Rios Montt and Anastasio Somoza went on to monopolize state force and terror through dictatorship. Yet, Colombia sent more officers to US training schools than any other Latin American country.

     

     Indeed, in 1964, with aid from the US, the Colombian state deployed nearly one thousand soldiers to the small, rural town of Marquetalia. With fighter planes and helicopters, they attempted to stomp out the last of Colombia’s communist threat. The plan backfired; survivors – supposedly radicalized by the attacks – created the Revolutionary Armed Forces against Colombia (FARC).

     A Brief and Incomplete History

     Of course, the rebels soon came to harm the very people they claimed to protect. Indigenous and Afro-Colombian folk have been marginalized from seemingly every angle. In the 1500s, as Spanish conquest forced Indigenous groups onto mountainsides and into jungles; Africans were being taken from their land for the Atlantic slave trade.

     i. 1928

     To better understand the marginalization of Afro-Colombians and Indigenous folk, it is important to recount Colombia’s recent history. The 20^th century started out with hope; workers for the US company, United Fruit, mobilized for written contracts, eight-hour days and six-day weeks. In response, however, armed company-security shot bullets into the striking crowd. We don’t know how many died in the “Banana Massacre” of 1928, but the event has been deemed a catalyst for popularizing extremist opposition to the state.

     ii. La Violencia

     Then, came La Violencia. The civil war raged from 1948 to 1958, during which time more than 200,000 were killed and an estimated one million fled their homes. After the war, some of the displaced peasants, often communist or left leaning, formed independent enclaves. However, due to Cold War fears, the scattered communities were deemed a threat. With US support, the Colombian government attacked.

     iii. A Lasting Conflict 

     This brings us back to Marquetalia and the initiation of Colombia’s most recent civil conflict. Decades of callous destruction by leftist guerillas, rightist paramilitary groups, security forces and drug traffickers ensued – disproportionately harming Indigenous and Afro-Colombian folk.

     In 2002, the conflict killed an average of 20 Colombians every day. Today, FARC landmines still litter the Amazon. The victims are largely unarmed civilians from the countryside and civil society leaders.

     iv. Fragile Peace

     

     President Juan Manuel Santos, front left, and Rodrigo Londoño, the top rebel commander. [Credit…Fernando Vergara/Associated Press]

     The Peace Accords, signed in 2016, brought a brief period of hope. The Colombian President at the time, Juan Manual Santos, won the Nobel peace prize. Excited by the agreement’s promise of land restoration, Indigenous and Afro-Colombian peoples attempted to exercise territorial control over their homelands.

     Yet, land rights have yet to be secured. Within one week of the Accords, 100 hectares of forest were cleared in previously FARC occupied areas. Deforestation continues to surge as legal and illegal companies alike race to exploit natural resources in the power void.

     Still Vulnerable

     Today, Colombia is the deadliest place on earth for environmental activists and the second most dangerous country for human rights defenders (HRD) working on business issues. Most of the murdered have been Afro-Colombian citizens, union leaders, and Indigenous peoples.

     According to a report by the Business Human Rights Resource Center (BHRRC), 90% of attacks against HRD in Colombia are linked with demonstrations against hydroelectric power, bio and fossil fuels, mining and agricultural ventures.

     

     Kevin Mestizo (centre of the photo) and Eugenio Tenorio were members of the indigenous guard

      

     Intersectional Environmentalism 

     In Colombia, it seems impossible to untangle violence from displacement, resource

     

     Members of a delegation of indigenous and rural community leaders from 14 countries in Latin America and Indonesia, the Guardians of the Forest campaign, demonstrate against deforestation in London.

     exploitation and racism. One activist argues, “the connection is so profound between humans and nature and land that a violent act against land, or vise versa against woman or man, is a violent act against the other.”

     Perhaps the Cauca Department can act as an example. In 1923, the Banana Massacre bloodied the region’s hills. Then, during the civil war, violence disproportionately surged through Cauca. Eventually, the FARC took control, catalyzed by displacement. Today, the Valley of Cauca is nicknamed the “cradle of multinationals” and is also home to some indigenous Nasa citizens, many of whom are formidable and outspoken environmentalists.

     What Will it Take to Break the Cycle? 

     Last year, however, in near cyclical fashion, another massacre bloodied Cauca land; five Nasa citizens were killed. According to the Institute of Development and Peace Studies (INDEPAZ), between January 1 and May 31, 2020; Colombia has witnessed the murders of 115 environmentalists, human rights defenders, Indigenous, peasants and social leaders as well as more than 20 former combatants.  According to the Ideas for Peace Foundation (FIP) attacks are accelerating.

     Yet, there is an indignance. After a taste of peace, many are refusing war. And local peace projects, marked by reconciliatory justice, intersectional environmentalism and grassroots expertise, show promise for a pathway forward.

      

445. In Appreciation of Our Malian Sister Artists

     2:39 pm Leave a Comment

     In Appreciation of Our Malian Sister Artists 

446. “Where are you from?” to “Where is your place?”

     June 23, 2020 4:19 pm 7 Comments

     A Seemingly Simple Question

     “Where are you from?” is one of my least favorite questions in existence. This became evident in August 2018, during my first day of orientation at the College of Saint Benedict. As is typical of orientations, the first few hours were filled with introductions, and I watched as my future classmates rambled off names of nearby Midwest towns and cities in response to the question at hand. Still, replies of “California” and “Texas” triggered several surprised reactions of “ooh’s” and “ahh’s” from the crowd.

     For context, my university sits in the middle of rural Minnesota, and in 2019 around 80% of students came from in-state. In addition, the student body is overwhelming white, at 79.7%. I say this not to criticize my university, but to highlight that if you are not white or from Minnesota (or one of its bordering states) you are certainly in the minority.

     Therefore, as I arrived on campus as a white, blue-eyed girl with Wisconsin license plates, nothing seemed rare (except, perhaps, my red hair). Yet, my actual answer to the question of “Where are you from?” is quite complicated.

     Transnational Movement

     At the age of four, my family uprooted from Wisconsin to move to Berlin, Germany, where my parents and siblings stayed for two years. When I was six, we then moved to Dhahran, Saudi Arabia, remaining until we transitioned back to the U.S. However, I finished my last two years of high school in El Salvador and Saudi Arabia.

     The long-story short is that I have spent half of my life outside of the U.S. I have lived in eight houses within four different countries. I do not say any of this to brag, boast, or claim that I have greater insight into the world, but only emphasize why the question at the top of this page is terribly complicated for me!

     I also say this because having had several “homes” makes me question my role in society, as well as my future (questions most people in their 20s are asking, I suppose). Without fully knowing where I come from, I am still trying to figure out what that means for where I am going.

     The Power of Human Connection

     This is why I am at the Advocacy Project… or should I say partly. Having been surrounded by people of different races, religions, and hometowns from birth makes me passionate about human diversity and the power that arises when we choose to listen to others.

     

     Image: Oryx Translation

     So often, we humans prefer to quickly judge each other rather than deeply listen. I often think it must be innate for human beings to do this. That is, label and hold prejudice, as it is easier to process our differences by simply placing each other into small boxes. Can we change the way we do this? I think yes. Does it take time, effort, and a willingness to recognize how complicated human beings truly are? I think yes. And do I think it starts by listening. Yes.

     The fact that the question “Where are you from?” tries to place me into a small box that does not describe my whole life story is one example of how the single-story phenomena can be misleading. However, I also hope to recognize that being assumed a “white girl from Wisconsin” (end of story) is certainly not the worst box to be put into. It does not place me into any immediate danger or carry hurtful prejudices along with it.

     But me, myself, and I know my full-life story, and I hope to recognize the privilege that comes with it. Not only being white and from a stable family, but also having been exposed to such a vast amount of diversity at a young age. My unique upbringing and flexibility of not “being” from one place, although freeing me from allegiance to one community, also makes me wonder where I am supposed to “be.” Once again, this is why I am at AP. Although I am still trying to find “my place,” I think learning from an organization that puts listening and establishing relationships at its forefront is a good place to start.

447. Refugees, Resettlement and Racism

     June 22, 2020 10:07 pm Leave a Comment

     Refugees, Resettlement and Racism

448. International Development, Humanitarian Aid, Anti-racism and Black Lives Matter [Part 1]

     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.

449. World Refugee Day 2020 – Refugees, Resettlement and Racism

     June 20, 2020 6:10 pm 2 Comments

      

     

     The US is accepting refugees from the Democratic Republic of the Congo, which has been referred to as “rape capital of the world.”

     Washington DC, June 20: We commemorate World Refugee Day today in the wake of the shocking murder of George Floyd. If this crime taught us anything, it is that racism is about power as well as color. Few people are more dis-empowered than refugees. It is thus deeply troubling that the very concept of asylum is under siege.

     When I worked for the UN Refugee Agency (UNHCR) in 1991, the number of refugees and forcibly displaced persons in the world stood at around 40 million. Last year, according to UNHCR, it rose to 79.5 million. This means that one in every 97 human beings has been deprived of the protection of their government – a truly astonishing figure.

     At precisely such a moment, when the global system for managing refugee flows is sagging, the Trump Administration proposes to drive another nail into the coffin by making it virtually impossible for a refugee to secure asylum in the United States.

     This is the gist of new regulations that were published earlier this week and will now be open for 30 days of public review. They must be vigorously opposed.

     Asylum-seekers In The Crosshairs

     Trump’s new rules target two categories of refugee. First, there are those who manage to reach the relative safety of another country and a refugee camp, where they wait – often for years – before being accepted for resettlement by a third country.

     In 2016, the last year of the Obama Administration, the US accepted 84,995 refugees for resettlement. This was miniscule when set against the global need, but it was more than the number resettled by all other governments combined. It also sent a strong message to hard-pressed countries of first asylum like Uganda and Jordan that the US was prepared to share their burden.

     President Trump wants to slam this door shut. This year, the US plans to resettle just 18,000 refugees, and that was before the COVID-19 lock-down. All refugees from Muslim countries have been excluded from the US since 2018.  If Trump is re-elected, future admissions will probably be based on the value of refugees to the US rather than the threat to their security or the preservation of their families.

     Punishing Undocumented Families

     The second target of the new regulations are people who seek asylum directly in the US and those that have found their way in but remain undocumented.

     International law (which the US follows) defines a refugee as having “a well-founded fear of persecution.” It can be difficult to establish motive, particularly if the asylum-seeker arrived without documents. But the law is clear that he or she cannot be sent back (“refouled”) without being given the chance to make their case.

     Under Trump’s new regulations, judges would be able to dismiss “frivolous” asylum claims without a hearing. Anyone who has lived in the US for more than a year, or spent more than two weeks in another country without applying for asylum there (for which read Mexico), will not get a hearing.

     The regulations would also bar most people who left for “political opinions,” including opposing organized crime. If you were about to get press-ganged into the MS-13 gang in El Salvador, forget about it. 

     This is all part of a systematic strategy to make the asylum process in the US as intimidating and uninviting as possible. Over 60,000 asylum-seekers have been returned to Mexico until their asylum appeals are heard in the US. Families have been split. Children have been put in cages.  The message is clear and blunt: “Don’t even bother.”

     This cruel policy weighs particularly heavily on undocumented people in the US, who number about 15 million. Some would undoubtedly qualify as refugees under the law. Others, who were driven by poverty, would certainly not. But under President Trump they will never get the chance to find out. As the pressure grows they will be forced further into the shadows, adding to the stress and fear caused by the COVID-19 pandemic.

     Asserting Community Control Over Migration

     This assault on refugees and migrants in the US is a classic case of systemic racism. How can it be challenged? Beyond the obvious – working to defeat Trump in the November elections – it seems to me that local communities must assert more control over the entire migration process.

     Under the present system, refugee quotas are decided in advance by the Federal government, and the refugees themselves are distributed among states by the US State Department in consultation with state governments and resettlement agencies. Many dedicated people work in this system, but it is top-down and imposed. Communities are where the refugees will live, and communities should have more say in deciding who they take in. The town of Rutland in the state of Vermont did as much when it opted to resettle Syrian refugee families at the height of the Syrian refugee crisis.

     We should follow the example of Rutland, study our troubled world, and invite refugees from countries under the greatest stress. Meanwhile, local councils should ease the pressure on our undocumented neighbors by ensuring that rent subsidies, educational opportunities and emergency food support are provided for undocumented families during the current emergency. Many communities have done this, to their enormous credit, and it should continue after the lock-down ends. Employers could help by hiring refugees or undocumented workers when their businesses reopen.

     Finally, when meeting a refugee in person, we should all take the time to learn about his or her courageous journey. Believe me, we will be inspired.

     In short, forced migration must be rescued from the Trump Administration. Unlike their president, most Americans understand that diversity enriches their society, and that refugees repay their generosity with hard work, friendship and a deep love of their new country. It is time to fight for this core American value.

      

450. Challenging COVID-19 in Uganda, with Flair and Ingenuity

     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.

451. Reflections on Disability in Uganda – from a Distance

     1:15 pm 4 Comments

     

     This is the flag of Uganda, the country I was supposed to travel to for approximately two months for a summer fellowship. Thanks to coronavirus, I am not able to travel to Uganda but instead am stuck in my basement, working remotely with the Gulu Disabled Persons Union, in partnership with the Advocacy Project. Looking at previous fellows’ blogs makes me sad that I can’t physically be in Gulu, Uganda; nevertheless, with my personal and professional experience, I am determined to make a difference by assisting the GDPU staff remotely.

     Growing up as a blind child, my ultimate goal was to become an air force pilot. As an adult, my cousin enjoys reminding me that at the tender age of six, I was convinced I would buy my own plane and fly my family around the world. Years later, I now realize that flying a plane is not possible for me due to my visual impairment. However, my passion to explore the world in different ways has not waned.

     I grew up in Haiti, a tumultuous country ruled by dictatorship, which was replaced by a pseudo-democracy, but injustice and inequality continued to reign. As a legally blind young man, I experienced those injustices myself. For instance, the lack of legal protection in Haiti for those with disabilities caused bullying in school to be a common occurrence. As a result, older students would jump in front of me while I was walking and wait for me to collide into them and laugh as it happened. Moreover, some students would punch me and run away, knowing I could not fight back. However, these traumatic experiences did not deter or discourage me. Instead, it gave me more strength and determination to press forward with my studies, so that one day I can be a contributor to the fight against injustice and inequality around the world.

     Given that I partly grew up in a country where inequality was the norm, this embedded in me the passion to fight to have a world with more equality. After multiple conversations with Iain Guest, the director of the Advocacy Project, as well as Ojok Patrick, the director of the Gulu Disabled Persons Union, I realize there is much work to be done. As a disabled person who has experienced injustice myself growing up in a third-world country, this fellowship will be an opportunity for me to assist the staff of the GDPU in the fight against inequality in Gulu, Uganda.

452. 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

453. Sister Artists Quilt Auction Begins on Monday!

     June 15, 2020 7:22 pm Leave a Comment

     Sister Artists Quilt Auction Begins on Monday!

454. Pandemic Weakens Legal Protections for Victims of Domestic Abuse in the U.S.

     7:20 pm Leave a Comment

     Pandemic Weakens Legal Protections for Victims of Domestic Abuse in the U.S.

455. Brighten Your Life With An Art Quilt From Africa!

     7:16 pm Leave a Comment

     Brighten Your Life With An Art Quilt From Africa!

456. Mama Masks Make a Splash in Uganda

     7:06 pm Leave a Comment

     Mama Masks Make a Splash in Uganda

457. Soap Dreams Help Girls in Zimbabwe and the US to Survive the COVID-19 Lockdown

     7:04 pm Leave a Comment

     Soap Dreams Help Girls in Zimbabwe and the US to Survive the COVID-19 Lockdown

458. A Community Teacher Chafes at Distance Learning, Pines for her Students

     3:50 pm Leave a Comment

     A Community Teacher Chafes at Distance Learning, Pines for her Students

459. US Agencies Struggle to Protect Resettled Refugees Against COVID-19

     3:48 pm Leave a Comment

     US Agencies Struggle to Protect Resettled Refugees Against COVID-19

460. Investing in Community Leaders as Africa Braces for COVID-19

     3:45 pm Leave a Comment

     Investing in Community Leaders as Africa Braces for COVID-19

461. Meet Evelyn, Zimbabwe Soap Star

     3:43 pm Leave a Comment

     Meet Evelyn, Zimbabwe Soap Star

462. Quilting Unites Sister Artists in Mali and the US

     3:35 pm Leave a Comment

     Quilting Unites Sister Artists in Mali and the US

463. Clean Girl Soap Seeks to Deter Child Marriage in Zimbabwe

     3:31 pm Leave a Comment

     Clean Girl Soap Seeks to Deter Child Marriage in Zimbabwe

464. Tribal Artists Use Cow Quilt to Promote Peace at UN Summit in Nairobi

     June 14, 2020 9:02 am Leave a Comment

     Tribal Artists Use Cow Quilt to Promote Peace at UN Summit in Nairobi

465. 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.

466. 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

467. 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.”‘

468. 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

      

      

469. 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.

470. African Advocates Use Quilts to Lobby UN Summit on Women and Girls

     November 12, 2019 12:15 pm Leave a Comment

     African Advocates Use Quilts to Lobby UN Summit on Women and Girls

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

     September 23, 2019 3:20 pm Leave a Comment

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

472. 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.

473. New Toilets Save Ugandan Primary School from Closure

     September 3, 2019 10:03 am Leave a Comment

     New Toilets Save Ugandan Primary School from Closure

474. Girl Ambassadors Challenge Child Marriage in Zimbabwe

     August 22, 2019 11:11 am Leave a Comment

     Girl Ambassadors Challenge Child Marriage in Zimbabwe

475. Rebuilding Nachola with Friendship

     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.

476. Firsthand Perspectives on Child Marriage

     August 20, 2019 4:14 pm 3 Comments

     There is something very powerful and also quite important to be found in hearing firsthand how those at risk feel about the issue they are facing. One of the things I tried to do this summer was to understand how these young women in Harare (WAP’s beneficiaries) feel about child marriage, since their voices, experiences, and ideas are key to any kind of solution.

     

     I worked with WAP to carry out a survey of as many of the club members as possible. We spoke with 62 girls who h­ave been attending their clubs for at least one month, and 19% of them have been at risk of getting married at some point (or are currently at risk).

     About a month later, we returned to 3 of the clubs to ask girls to go into more detail about why they think child marriage is bad. The girls were asked: “in your opinion, what is the worst thing about child marriage?” This is a fairly open-ended question, and I hoped to get a better idea of what they – the demographic most at risk of this practice – felt was harmful about child marriage.

     

     

     Here is a sample of some of the responses:

     Lynn: The worst things about child marriage are that it contributes to abuse of one’s human rights. For example if a girl is forced to marry at the age of 15 she is forced to leave school and all her dreams will be shattered. Also child marriage can cause a lot of problems to one’s life such as diseases. If a girl is married to an old man there is a possibility of sexual abuse which causes domestic violence in most cases.

     Emilia: Your husband will beat you because you are a child.

     Kezia: As girls the worst thing about child marriage is that if you go to labor you can die because your bones are not strong enough and your baby could die. Also, you may not be able to provide for the family or you may not be able to cope with the stress of marriage.

     Shamila: If you get married when you are a small child you might die during birth because your bones are not strong.

     Tatenda: The worst thing about child marriage is that you can get HIV/AIDs or you cannot be able to hold your family together because you have no idea how to have children.

     Shamiso: Child marriage is bad because it destroys our future as both girls and also boys. Especially if we look at most countries, women are not respected even if you are pregnant you are not given your rights, they are abused.

     

     

     Clearly there are common themes in the responses, but also a range of risks and effects that might not be apparent to those with little knowledge of (or no experience with) child marriage. These girls are considering this issue from a position where they can stare it in the face and see how it might impact their lives. Many of them have friends and relatives who have been married before 18 – and again, some of them were married previously themselves.

     I hope that in the future, girls in Zimbabwe can continue learning about child marriage and sharing their thoughts on why it is harmful, dangerous and unwanted. I feel like I am repeating myself but again, I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to meet WAP’s club members this summer and to hear from them about their life experiences and opinions.

     I truly feel that if their motivation continues to be harnessed through education, community-building, and skill-building, girls like these will be effective in bringing attention to this issue in their country and put a stop to it.

477. 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.

478. The End to Amazing and Life-Changing Experience

     August 15, 2019 2:40 pm Leave a Comment

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

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

     

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

     

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

     

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

     

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

479. Putting Needle to Cloth

     August 14, 2019 5:23 pm 2 Comments

     As you may have previously read, one of my projects this summer has been to work with WAP to produce embroidery squares for a child marriage advocacy quilt which will be used to spread awareness about child marriage and girls’ empowerment in Zimbabwe. Twelve of WAP’s beneficiaries were selected to participate in the quilting project and they attended an embroidery training last month to learn stitching skills and begin thinking about the images they would be putting on their quilt squares.

     We recently held our second embroidery training at a local Harare cafe in order for the girls to get some extra help on their squares. As we have all learned, there are certain stitches that work better for different subjects (like trees, skirts, houses, etc.) and since the quilters have had a chance to work on their squares and begin producing their images and scenes, they were able to get individualized assistance with their projects. Embroidery on cloths, the new Fall/Winter line of boys coats this year are found to be fashionable, warm and fun to wear. This season of coats for boys include variations colors and style that are usually hard to find for young men and they are also very masculine so as not to be mistaken for girl coats, see here for more choices.

     

     

     Tina Telford – Chairperson of the Harare Patchwork and Quilting Guild – led the training for the second time and worked with all of the girls to teach them new stitches and give them advice on how to proceed with their squares.

     

     

     The quilters are from all five of WAP’s clubs, so many of them had not met before the embroidery training began. As they all sat around picnic benches in the garden of the café, they began to open up, show each other their quilt squares, share tips about sewing, and laugh with each other.

     

     I was very impressed with how far along the girls have gotten with their embroidery and the powerful and beautiful imagery they are managing to create. I am so excited to see the finished products because I know each one is going to tell a story and reveal a different facet of the issue of child marriage. Some of these young girls have already been through so much in their lives and it is truly inspirational to work with them and hear them talk about how much they have learned and how they have been empowered.

     WAP Ambassador Trish’s square features girls playing netball together. She explained the image is representing how girls coming together as a group and forming a community can prevent child marriage.

     

     Chitungwiza cub member Tanatswasa’s square is a scene where a girl is at a house working with a baby and a garden, while there is a school in the foreground of the scene. Tanatswasa explained that since the girl has been married, she has lost the opportunity to attend school.

     

     Once all of the squares are collected and photographed next week, I will be sharing them on AP’s website so you can see all of their hard work and read about the stories behind each piece of embroidery! I will then be transporting the squares back with me to the U.S. where they will be assembled into the final child marriage advocacy quilt.

480. Resilience

     August 13, 2019 2:39 pm Leave a Comment

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

     

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

     

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

     

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

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

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

481. American Quilter Finds Peace with War Survivors in Nepal

     August 12, 2019 2:09 pm Leave a Comment

     American Quilter Finds Peace with War Survivors in Nepal

482. The Drought

     12:38 pm Leave a Comment

     

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

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

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

483. Is Saving an Option

     August 8, 2019 12:11 pm Leave a Comment

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

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

     

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

     

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

484. Conception to Implementation

     6:47 am 2 Comments

     Over the course of the past month, I have continued working here in Harare with Constance and Dickson to finalize plans for WAP’s soap-making project: Soap for Hope. Since this is WAP’s first income-generation program, there has been a lot for us to learn and a lot of details to sort out to make sure the pilot project is a success.

     I feel lucky to be taking part firsthand in the process of creating such an innovative economic empowerment project, from conceptualization, to planning and fundraising, to implementation. I know more now about liquid dish soap and how it’s made then I would have ever thought possible!

     Everyone needs soap, and many products that are imported from surrounding countries are too expensive for Zimbabwean households. If WAP’s “Clean Girl” soap can be sold at a competitive price, it will likely be quite successful since demand is so high for these types of products.

     

     We want to make sure the “Clean Girl” soap packaging and labeling is high quality to make the product stand out and be desirable to consumers. This will help with marketing, as a unique product will be easy for people to remember.

     WAP will be working with Mr. Paul, a local soap manufacturer here in Harare. I recently had a meeting with him to learn more about his experience and get his thoughts on our proposal. He has been working in this industry since 1989. He worked in South Africa from 1995-2002, and in 2002 he started his own company here in Harare called Egoboost. He has vast experience working with chemicals and will be a great resource for WAP during this process.

     

     The group of girls involved in Soap for Hope will be divided into teams so that they can all learn skills and be involved in all aspects of the project. Some will be working on marketing and distribution, others will help with bookkeeping and invoices, and others will assist with management.

     I have been lucky to meet and interact with the girls from Epworth who will be participating in this project and I know that they are going to do an amazing job and learn so much. They are all quite motivated and have formed a tight community within their club. The last time we visited them, one of the members actually read us the minutes from their last meeting in which they designated roles for some of the girls: co-chair, secretary, photographer, outreach coordinator to name a few. They meet twice a week, and have begun traveling to a nearby park to play netball together. They also have a dance team – made possible from a small music speaker donated by their Ambassador Trish – and they hope to be able to compete and perform locally someday soon.

     

     

     

     I will be very excited to see how this program progresses and grows once the pilot project starts – I believe the combination of skill-building, community outreach, economic empowerment and teamwork will be very valuable for all of the girls involved and the local community can also benefit from having a high quality affordable product on the market.

     If you would like to donate to the project, you can visit our Global Giving page here. **From August 12-16, all donations up to $50 will be matched 50% so that is a great opportunity to stretch your dollars a little farther!

     

485. Sources of Income for Agent Orange Families

     August 5, 2019 12:28 pm Leave a Comment

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

     

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

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

     

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

     

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

     

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

486. Menstruation and Men

     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.

487. Attributing Outcomes

     July 31, 2019 5:17 pm 2 Comments

     It is clear that the ultimate goals of WAP’s “Give Us Books Not Husbands” clubs lead by the Ambassadors Against Child Marriage are to 1) educate and empower girls and 2) prevent girls from getting married.

     WAP has been grateful to find that so far since the clubs began operating in January 2019, none of the club members have gotten married. This is quite a powerful outcome for the Ambassadors program, and the organization hopes to continue – and increase – this trend as more girls become involved in the coming years.

     I have been meeting and talking with almost all of the club members over the past two months, but more recently I hoped to learn more about how and why the WAP club activities have prevented girls from getting married. When I sat down with girls from Chitungwiza, Epworth, and Mbare I discussed this question with them: “if this club did not exist – you had not met your Ambassador and learned from her – do you think it is possible you would have been married?”

     

     The club members in Epworth and Mbare actually wrote out their responses for us on paper. Constance advised me it is probably easier for many of them to discuss such things through writing, since they might be shy or have trouble coming up with an answer verbally.

     

     

     It is important to note that some of the girls actually answered “no” to this question – in other words these girls feel that even if the WAP club did not exist in their community, they would not get married. Their reasons range from the fact that they have been in school, they have been warned about the consequences of marriage by their family members, and they are not being abused.

     

     Thelma in Chitungwiza responded that she would not have gotten married even if the club didn’t exist because she has strong self-esteem, she is in school, and is not being abused by her family.

     

     Tatenda in Epworth told us that she would not have been married because her mother always tells her to finish school first and reach her future goals before being married.

     When girls responded “yes” (they would have been married if not for the club’s existence) they noted reasons such as peer pressure, abuse, and lack of knowledge.

     

     Kudzaishe in Chitungwiza answered that yes, she might have been married because some girls at her school were telling her getting married is good.

     

     Chitungwiza club member Nokutenda responded by saying yes she might have gotten married because she did not know about the causes of child marriage or why it was bad before attending Evelyn’s club.

     

     Natasha in Epworth wrote that she would get married if the club did not exist because of poverty at home.

     

     Emily wrote to us that she was in a difficult situation at home and would have been forced into marriage if it were not for her Ambassador Trish in Epworth.

     

     Lynn in Mbare wrote that before the existence of their club, she could have considered getting married. But through the teachings in the club, she has learned a lot of things including about the challenges that come after early marriage, so it changed her way of thinking and she is able to avoid being married until the right time comes.

     Questions and responses such as these are key for WAP to be able to measure its impact and to understand the type of influence it is having on its beneficiaries. And the fact that girls answered “no” when asked this question does not mean WAP has not been successful or that it is targeting the wrong outcomes.

     It is inevitable that some of the girls in the Ambassadors’ clubs would truly have avoided marriage if the clubs did not exist. But it is not necessary (or really possible) to try and ascertain who exactly is at the most risk and only target those girls in these communities – WAP’s goals for its outreach to young girls expands beyond just avoidance of child marriage. Despite the fact that girls may not have gotten married without the club, they would not have had the opportunities to learn more about topics like Zimbabwean marriage laws, human rights, and sexual and reproductive health.

     It is of course not possible to attribute the lack of marriage among the club participants entirely to the Ambassadors program – as I have discovered, there could realistically be many other factors at play in these girls’ lives. But the fact that they have all managed to stay out of marriage up until this point is reason enough for WAP to try to determine what role they have played in that outcome. And it is also very uplifting and positive news to receive for an organization which is working to keep girls empowered, educated and out of marriage.

488. 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

489. The Sustained Latrine Model for Gulu

     July 29, 2019 9:17 am 3 Comments

     The brick and mortar, concrete, and hard manual labor is coming to a close with only minor piecework inside the individual stances remaining. This includes grab bars, railings, the approved wheel chair height, and the appropriate water tanks and basins for cleaning. An elongated walkway from the school to the latrine will deplete the final count of cement bags and funds for construction, as the budget and supplies have run its course in the latrine construction.

     

     We must finalize a date for inclusivity and hygiene training involving the teachers, parents, school leaders, and students in these final weeks of work. Community and school inclusivity between all parties will strengthen the relationship between the District Education Officer (DEO) and GDPU as well as open the way for GDPU’s model to be used more in 2020 and ensure sustainability. Girls and boys will enjoy an improvement in WASH services, with an increased assurance of privacy and equity for girls, and the inclusivity of disabled students. We want to prevent bullying of disabled students and increase their attendance numbers and prove their value to the community by including them in all school functions.

     The head school teacher, Joseph, was telling Patrick and me of the Gulu District’s proposal for a secondary latrine for boys at Abaka, as this GDPU latrine will be girl specific. To our surprise, they were planning on hiring the same contractor who built the condemned latrine to complete its refurbishing for a secondary latrine. We fail to see the sound reasoning in this decision, as the contractor wasted district funds, time, and damaged the relationship between Abaka Primary School and the Gulu District. This is a very questionable decision making process that needs to be revisited and we both expressed our disappointment with the proposal, with hopes that it can be amended.

     Although no exact date has been set and nothing is written in stone, Joseph mentioned the proposal includes the plan to dig a new pit latrine beside the failed one. Yes, an entirely new dugout pit for a substructure. Patrick retorted with the lack of need for a new pit. Simply use the old pit, clear out the damaged substructure, and work from there. As we have seen from the previous blogs, the pit excavation and substructure is the most time consuming and laborious part of the entire process. 

     GDPU and Kinyera David should be awarded the contract, as the decision was definitely not well researched and there seems to be obvious influences beyond our scope of vision. David’s present work stands on its own for acceptance as the working engineer for the GDPU model. It is possible that the second latrine construction plan can be altered by the DEO once the Gulu District Ministry of Health and Safety gives the final approval of the Abaka Primary School latrine. This will provide resounding support for the GDPU model and may drive the DEO to alter the plans. 

     GDPU has also demonstrated success in installing accessible toilets at three schools in Gulu District before, at Tochi primary (2015), Ogul primary (2017) and Awach Central primary (2018). The continued success at Abaka will lead to a surge in enrollment, reduced bullying, and motivated teachers. The DEO will be excited by these results and will want to ensure a long-term sustainability of latrines and delight in the positive effects on enrollment, attendance, and quality of life.
     

490. A Catalyst to Change and a Beneficiary: Hilary Bukuno

     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.

491. 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)

492. 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.

493. 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.

494. Victimization vs. Empowerment – using embroidery to share powerful stories

     July 24, 2019 9:08 am 4 Comments

     Storytelling is a powerful method of spreading knowledge and presenting different sides of an issue. However, there is a challenge when sharing peoples’ stories – particularly those who have been through terrible things – to ensure they are not being exploited or misrepresented. Sharing images and personal stories of people who have been through hardship can be a useful and important way to get others motivated behind an issue, but it has to be done in a way that is respectful and realistic as well.

     Most people are inundated with images of suffering people in an attempt to raise awareness and money for humanitarian crises, natural disasters, conflicts, and social issues. The images we see may be distorted or even incorrect; The subjects might not have been asked for their permission to be photographed, photographers might not be given credit, and people often do not follow guidelines when photographing children.

     In the 1980s the term “poverty porn” came about to describe the use of startling pictures – usually of starving African children – in fundraising ads, and more recently stereotypical negative photos are referred to as “flies in the eyes” imagery. Images can serve to degrade and victimize people who are not necessarily helpless and who deserve dignity. And of course, positive imagery depicting progress and prosperity can be just as misleading. So, it is a very difficult line to walk when relying on imagery.

     

     This is something that I believe will always be an issue with charitable giving, humanitarian action and awareness campaigns. More and more, I think NGOs, non-profit organizations and humanitarian actors need to take care to utilize images and stories in a way that is empowering to those they are profiling.

     

     What the Advocacy Project Peace Fellows have been trying to do since the program started in 2003 is to raise awareness and funds for social issues around the world. As fellows, we were trained on how to take photos sensitively after asking for permission, how to interview people, write profiles, and spread knowledge about each issue we are working on. Faces may be left out of photos or names changed to protect the identities of vulnerable people. And we were also taught that there is a delicate balance when using someone’s story or experience to benefit other people who are experiencing the same thing.

     I feel that Advocacy Project’s advocacy quilting tradition is a creative way to share powerful messages and personal accounts in a way that is empowering and accurate. When people are asked to come up with an image that represents their experience and then craft that image by hand, they have an even closer personal connection to that story than a photograph. And some things cannot be captured in a photo. In some cases, participants have been able to learn a skill (embroidery) that they can use to generate income or to use as a creative outlet.

     

     

     Here in Zimbabwe, WAP has the goal of producing a child marriage advocacy quilt by the end of the summer. Earlier this month, Constance and I attended the monthly meeting of the Harare Patchwork and Quilters Guild by the invitation of the chairlady Tina Telford. Tina asked me to share a bit about WAP’s programming as well as our goals for the advocacy quilt. Several of the guild members volunteered to assist with the training.

     • 

     • 

     We held the first embroidery training recently, and 9 girls were tutored on different stitching techniques. We were lucky enough to be assisted by members of the Harare Patchwork and Quilters Guild, who donated their time and supplies to teach the girls some stitches and sewing methods.

     

     

     

     Over the next 5 weeks, these girls will work on their squares to put together an image that represents child marriage to them. Some of these young women have actually been married in the past, others have been raped and had children, and others have been able to avoid marriage altogether. It is our hope that creative visual representations of these experiences and feelings can raise even more awareness about the issue of child marriage in Zimbabwe. Stay tuned for the finished quilt squares!

     More photos of the training can be found here on Flickr.

     And if you have not yet had a chance to donate to our income-generation project, please take a second to visit our Global Giving campaign to donate or share within your network.

     ---

     References:

     Dolinar, Maja, and Polana Sitar. “The Use of Stereotypical Images of Africa in Fundraising Campaigns.” European Scientific Journal, vol. 9, no. 11, Apr. 2013, pp. 20–32., doi: 1857 – 7881.

     Gharib, Malaka. “At What Point Does A Fundraising Ad Go Too Far?” NPR, NPR, 30 Sept. 2015.

     Kennedy, Denis. “Selling the Distant Other: Humanitarianism and Imagery-Ethical Dilemmas of Humanitarian Action.” The Journal of Humanitarian Assistance, 28 Feb. 2009.

495. Peace Fellows Make the Case for Tolerance and Diversity

     July 23, 2019 9:45 am Leave a Comment

     Peace Fellows Make the Case for Tolerance and Diversity

496. Girls, Brick, and Mortar – Stabilizing Forces of a Community

     9:38 am 4 Comments

     Above ground work is underway, with brick and mortar walls the next in line for completion. As of the last blog, the substructure was completed and the necessary slab over the latrine pit was scheduled for Saturday’s work. Come Monday, the 15^th of July, the crew commenced brick and mortar construction of the walls forming the stances, latrine enclosure, and ramps that will contour the latrine superstructure. 

     The sub pump served its purpose in removing the water from the pit to a desired level. A meter of water is to remain in the pit to promote proper mixing of the dung and urine to promote dilution and some mitigation of odor. The latrine pit without a base level of water is deemed inoperable, as it would be difficult to drain the pit via a ducting system or sub pump if it was allowed to remain a solid, unmixed mass of waste.

     Brick and mortar work may look simplistic, like stacking children’s building blocks, but there is a science and artistry to building a sustainable wall. The mortar must harden between symmetrical spaced bricks to create an edifice that will endure rain, winds, and the test of time. Exact lining, spacing, and placement of bricks must be meticulously repeated and checked by every crew member. Teamwork, attention to detail, and collective monitoring will guarantee accurate construction and adherence to David’s engineering plans.

     

      Plastic sheeting is laid over the base, with ample mortar spread to ensure proper adhesion in the placement of the bricks. Five centimeters of spacing allows for mortar placement between two adjoining bricks and bonds the bricks, creating a water tight seal. This provides an additional strengthening force to the weight of the bricks themselves, as the mortar dries, hardens, and stabilizes. 

     The plum bob has been around since ancient Egyptian times of pyramid building and is used to ensure verticality between subsequent brick layers and the alignment of the entire structure with ground level. The latrine walls must be perfectly aligned with ground level in the vertical from base to roof. This ensures even weight distribution, as the weight of one brick layer falls evenly with gravity to the layer below. Any deviation, to the slightest degree, will promote an uneven weight transfer, leaning, and lead to wall weakening, mortar disintegration, and eventual collapse.

     Much care is taken to make sure every brick is lined correctly by the use of a marker string made stationary by the weight of the plum bob over the last brick. The cornerstone is set in place using plum bob alignment, as each layer extending from the cornerstone is vertically aligned with ground level. This precision is checked and rechecked with each brick layer, as alignment mistakes are negated to ensure the construction of a wall even with ground level, standing strong against the elements.  

     

     The construction plan calls for five enclosures – four for latrine stances, and a separate changing room for girls in the fifth. A command decision will have to be made by the school leaders and community on the dedicated use of the latrine stances. It is common to not have boys and girls use the same stances in such proximity for safety, privacy, and decency concerns. These are young children, not at a maturity level for communal bathrooms, even if partitioned by walls and locking doors. 

     In conversing with Martin, one of the school teachers, he proposed the use of this latrine as girls only, until a boy’s latrine can be constructed. The reasoning was validated by Paul, the GDPU sports director, and David the construction engineer. They both noticed about 10 girls present in the teen to preteen age range. This is good for the school and the community, and equates to them not being married off as child brides, which is common in Africa, the Middle East, Latin America, and Europe. Their attendance coincides with the work being conducted by my colleague, McLane Harrington, in Zimbabwe, and the Women Advocacy Project (WAP). They seek to promote and protect the rights of vulnerable and marginalized women and girls in Zimbabwean communities and to prevent the practice of child marriage.

     The designation of this latrine for girls only may be the wisest decision the school and community makes. It will promote increased attendance by girls and help to contradict the child marriage traditions of the community and disavow the gender inequality beliefs. Women can be considered a ‘burden’ on their family and valued less than boys, and this belief must be eradicated.  The tradition of marrying a girl off once she menstruates and reaches ‘womanhood’, in the eyes of the community, must be abandoned. Community systems that cling to the tradition of child marriage and undervalue the contribution and participation of girls and women limit their own possibilities for growth, stability, and transformation.

     “Traditions are made by people, and can be unmade by them”, as was spoken by Graca Machel, the widow of Nelson Mandela.
     

497. The Burdensome Loans of Agent Orange Families

     July 21, 2019 10:54 am Leave a Comment

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

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

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

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

     

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

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

     

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

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

     

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

498. A Seed for Prosperity and Family

     July 20, 2019 5:58 am 4 Comments

     Over three years ago, Children Peace Initiative Kenya (CPI) came to Baragoi to begin a peace program.  The conflict between people of the Samburu and Turkana ethnicities was very much still active (as it is now), and the need for an innovative peace program was apparent.  While the program began with great promise, a funding gap prevented the program from being continued to fruition.  Mitcccny is best site to have guide from.

     Now, CPI has returned.  The division between the Turkana and Samburu is currently defined as a corridor of conflict with its unofficial line of demarcation being the principal road running North-South through Baragoi.  To the East of the road are the Samburu people and to the West are the Turkana people.  The owners of residences and businesses are relegated to abide by this norm.

     On Wednesday the 3^rd of July (2019), approximately 5 days into our mobilization effort, I met with a beneficiary of this previous program.  Despite its brevity, this program had an immense impact on the lives of two families of beneficiaries.  The beneficiaries were the families of James Esokon (of Turkana ethnic identity) and Chief Leparoiya (of Samburu ethnic identity), whose respective sons, Collins and Charles, participated in the 2016 program.

     

     James Esokon happily met with Hilary Bukuno (CEO of CPI Kenya) and I on that stifling hot afternoon.  We sat together on the front steps of the Morning Star Hotel in Baragoi facing the same street that divided the town.  After getting to know one another, we began to listen of Mr. Esokon’s account of his life before and after the Peace Camp program.

     Prior to the 2016 attempt to begin a Peace Program, Mr. Esokon attested that he could not venture into Samburu territory, especially where his new friend lives.  He claimed that “without knowing anyone, I could have been killed!”  This sentiment was complemented by the fact that before meeting the Chief and his son, he didn’t have relations with any Samburu and generally feared the people of Ngilai. 

     However, now, the resident of Nalin’gan’gor village frequently makes the long trek to Ngilai to visit his friend, even being welcomed and recognized by residents of Ngilai as a companion of the chief.  More importantly, the meeting of their sons in 2016 united the two families.  They met shortly after the exchange program that brought Chief Leparoiya to his small village.  Following heartful conversations, they quickly became friends.

     Over the years their friendship has grown even stronger.  From their children spending holidays together to helping each other conduct trade across community boundaries, their friendship has brought mutual prosperity, security, and a new definition of family. 

     The redefining of “family” that I am alluding to pertains to the sharing of important milestones and ceremonies that were once limited to community members and immediate family.  For instance, the practice of circumcision during adolescence is an important rite within both Turkana and Samburu communities separately.  When Mr. Esokon’s son’s, Collins, ceremony occurred, Chief Leparoiya attended and gifted the family with a goat.  Now, James Esokon has the opportunity to help Chief Leparoiya prepare for his son’s circumcision ceremony.  The Chief has asked him to find a goat hide for his son to wear during the multi-day ritual marking the transition to adulthood.

     The sharing of such important rites complements additional signs of respect and appreciation.  Mr. Esokon recounts that the Chief has gifted him three goats in total and frequently visits his son, who is now schooling in Maralal (the capital of Samburu County).  Such a close relationship has also facilitated the trade of livestock between Samburu and Turkana communities.  Due to the Chief’s political weight within the community of Ngilai, Mr. Esokon can freely bring his animals to Samburu markets.  And, when tensions are high between the communities, Mr. Esokon escorts the Chief’s livestock for sale within Turkana territory. 

     

     I found myself moved by the stories Mr. Esokon revealed to me.  So, throughout the rest of my time in Baragoi I sought to speak to Chief Leparoiya.  Unfortunately, our schedules never properly lined up for a meeting to take place.  Nonetheless, I was able to meet with Chief Leparoiya’s youngest son, Karito Leparoiya.  Karito was part of the Peace Camp in Bendera (a small village outside of Baragoi) and agreed to speak with me on the last day of the inter-communal events.

     The 14-year old student of class 6 gave off an aura of confidence that seemed to mask his small stature.  He quickly substantiated all the stories provided by Mr. Esokon.  Furthermore, Karito added that Mr. Esokon is “like an uncle” to him and frequently brings fresh milk to his family’s house, while he also keep his house clean of any pests, since this could damage your home a lot and Organic Lesson says you can find good services online to get help with this..  Now, having witnessed what the Peace Program can do for his family, Karito wants to be an ambassador for peace to educate the rest of his community. 

     As Karito attests, and I have observed, the advantages to individuals and families of the Peace Program are immense.  In just a short period of time, and without the entire program being completed in Baragoi, two families have realized how friendship and prosperity are interlinked.  Now, the goal is to carry the program to its completion.  With years of involvement ahead, CPI and Zivik anticipate creating hundreds of friendships that can lift communities out of abject poverty.

     If you wish to help Children Peace Initiative Kenya’s ongoing project in Baragoi, please visit the GlobalGiving page or contact CPI Kenya directly.

     

499. First Mission… Field Visit

     July 17, 2019 9:42 am 4 Comments

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

     

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

     

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

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

     

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

500. Reproductive and Sexual Health Education

     July 16, 2019 7:24 am 4 Comments

     In addition to poverty, one particular issue that is closely tied to child marriage in Zimbabwe is reproductive and sexual health education. A lack of this type of knowledge can lead to STIs and early pregnancy which can be very dangerous for young girls.

     

     When a girl gets pregnant around the age of 15 or 16, her chances of having a healthy pregnancy and delivery are greatly diminished. According to UNFPA, complications during pregnancy and childbirth are one of the leading causes of death and disability among women of reproductive age (15-49 years) in Zimbabwe. This report by the Guttmacher Institute illustrates that one-quarter of 15–19-year-old women in the country have started childbearing, and one-third of all births to adolescents are unplanned (wanted later or not at all). In other countries where women usually have more options and opportunities for their sexual health even improving it as you can read on vtightensafely.com and other online sources, it is very opposite with other less fortunate countries. Early marriage is closely linked most with teen motherhood, as marriage unions are typically expected to result in the birth of a baby within the first year or two of marriage.

     

     STIs are also a large problem for young women in these communities. In 2011, 15% of 15–49-year-olds in Zimbabwe were HIV positive,[1] and sexual activity without consistent condom use can expose adolescents to HIV infection. There is currently a lack of free and informative access to health services that include contraceptives, treatment for sexually transmitted infections and condoms, and studies show that rates of adolescent pregnancy and HIV are increasing, while knowledge about sexual health is declining (MSF). Hopes are high that attitudes will change after the Truvada class action lawsuit and that these communities will shape their future with the proper access to health services. People everywhere deserve the very best preventative knowledge on diseases.

     To address this absence of widespread education WAP targets reproductive and sexual health education for their clubs because of its close ties with early marriage as well as girls’ empowerment. The Girls Not Brides “Stand Up, Speak Out” training manuals used by WAP’s Ambassadors in their club meetings includes training materials and information about the health risks of early pregnancy and unprotected sex.

     

     “It denies her the right to a healthy life or to control her own sexual and reproductive health and rights through forced pregnancy”

     Consequences of child marriage:
     “…girls are often pressured into motherhood at a young age which increases risk of death or injury during pregnancy and childbirth. It also increase risk of death and long-term health complications for newborn children. It increases girls’ exposure to HIV/AIDS, as girls cannot negotiate safe sex practices. “

     It is hoped that by providing this educational material and being taught by one of their peers (another young woman) the girls will be empowered and have the tools to avoid pregnancy and STIs. It is clear from our interviews of club members that the sexual and reproductive health lessons have made their mark:

     

     Patience in Hopley learned through her club about the potential issues and dangers of early pregnancy.

     

     Talent in Waterfalls says the most important thing she has learned is about reproductive health

     

     Tanatsmuwa in Waterfalls has learned about how you can get STIs from having sex

     WAP also assists girls whenever possible by providing sanitary pads. This assistance is key, since sanitary pads and tampons are incredibly expensive in the country currently. We also hope that this will help to reduce the stigma around menstruation and reproductive health.

     • 

     • 

     • 

     Going forward, WAP will continue utilizing this peer-to-peer educational model to increase young girls’ ability to make informed decisions about their health and their lives.

     A brief reminder: Global Giving’s July Bonus Day is taking place on Thursday (the 18^th) and during that time, all donations over $100 will be matched up to 50%. Please consider sharing the fundraiser (link here) or donating to help support WAP’s income-generation project!
     

     ---

     [1] Zimbabwe National Statistics Agency (ZIMSTAT) and ICF International, Zimbabwe Demographic and Health Survey, 2010–2011, Calverton, MD, USA: ZIMSTAT and ICF International, 2012.

501. Joseph the Artist

     5:09 am 5 Comments

     The heat of the mid-morning sun had wiped away any sensation of chill in the air.  In mere hours, the temperature had climbed more than ten degrees Celsius.  While the children were enjoying a group activity that employed old newspapers as fabric for an inter-ethnic fashion show, I remained nostalgic of the cooler hours and hid underneath the tallest tree I could find.  Hiding from the sun was the least I could do for my body.  My pink forehead and nose inspired the children to giggle at me, seeing me as some grotesquely painted clown. 

     While I hid underneath that acacia tree, on that final day of the Zivik-CPI Kenya Peace Camp in the village of Bendera, just a short distance from the town of Baragoi, I met with a young man named Joseph Longeri Nangodia.  I initially met him briefly as I sprinted to the store room to gather my camera.  I shook his hand and said hello as I passed, completely unaware of who he was.  I met him again as the “fashion show” begun.  He sat next to me and we briefly exchanged a few niceties as I showed him the cumbersome camera that I bought just months before.  However, our conversation was cut short as I jumped to action to snap photos of the “show”.

     

     While on my knee for one photograph, Monica Kinyua (the CPI Kenya Deputy Director) asked me “have you met Joseph?”  Not knowing the story of Joseph, I responded all too quickly, “yes”.  Aware of the shortcomings of my response, Monica merely told me that he was a beneficiary of the 2016 Peace Program and maybe I should talk to him a bit more.    

     Before lunch I asked Joseph if he would like to find a place to talk about his experiences.  His response was a bright smile that contrasted with his sad eyes and, in a soft voice, he said “sure”. 

     We quickly found a spot that was in the shadow of the store room and sat on the cold concrete (a welcomed respite from the overbearing heat).  While our conversation begun by talking about his schooling, his struggle to continue his education begged the question of his past. 

     In a matter-the-fact manner he told me his father was killed in 2015, when he was merely 13 years old.  His father was killed in a cattle raid that claimed much of his family’s wealth as well as his father’s life.  He explained how he was home during the raid, while his father had taken the cattle out to graze.  While he had heard the gunshots, he didn’t realize that his father had died until his mother was contacted by the police later that evening.

     

     The raid left him fatherless and his family struggling to make ends meet.  His mother began to sell charcoal in order to bring food back to the home.  The constant challenge to gather enough income for basic necessities prevented Joseph from feeling anger or truly expressing his sadness.  He was distracted by the needs of the present.  The survival of the family was at hand, and such reflection on loss was understood by Joseph as “self-indulgent”.

     Luckily, Joseph had a blossoming talent up his sleeve.  His talent could be a way out of poverty as well as his therapy.  This talent was his art. 

     Less than a year after the raid that took his father’s life, Joseph attests that the CPI peace program helped give him a sense of peace and solidarity with those who have also been harmed by cattle raids.  Beneficiaries who had encountered trauma due to persistent conflict, on either end of the Turkana-Samburu ethnic divide, allowed Joseph to begin to digest the events of a year prior. 

     

     Joseph’s artwork also helped.  From early on, Joseph had a talent for sketching.  He would find him self drawing pictures after school as a hobby.  Following the short-lived program in 2016 (where funding shortfalls prevented the fruition of the project), he was able to begin one journey of handling the trauma of his past.  Simultaneously, he would use his love for art to address the long journey away from poverty.

     

     He began the journey by drawing sketches for his science class.  A teacher had taken notice of his ability and asked him to create images to help instruct students.  This simple gesture gave him confidence to begin creating cultural images and portraits.  Some of the portraits have been of local political leaders in traditional garb.  Some of the portraits have just been of children he has seen in his neighborhood.  And, some of these portraits have been sold for a modest price to bolster his family’s income.

     

     With some recognition of his talent in the remote town of Baragoi, he hopes to go to the University of Nairobi and refine it further.  Nonetheless, the cost of attending university is an immense hurdle.  Joseph acknowledges that “only those from good schools and money get to go to university and study fine arts”.  Despite this, not having formal training has given his art a sense of originality, injecting a bit of himself into every drawing.  If you have any interest in helping Joseph overcome this hurdle, please contact Children Peace Initiative Kenya (link: https://cpikenya.org/ / info@cpikenya.org ).

     And, if you would like to support the current Zivik-CPI 2019 Peace Program in Baragoi, please visit our GlobalGiving page.

502. First Week of Hard Work and Bliss

     July 15, 2019 10:27 am 4 Comments

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

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

     

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

503. Strong and Stubborn Sunita speaks out against Chhaupadi

     6:19 am 4 Comments

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

     

     A Rice Field in Gutu, Surkhet. 

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

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

     

     Sunita shows us her beauty products. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

     

     A traditional home in Gutu, Sukhet

504. Latrine Norms, Weight Distribution, and Rebar

     July 13, 2019 1:56 pm 4 Comments

     The norms for the construction and management of rural latrines are as follows and coincide with the construction plans of The Advocacy Project, GDPU, and our construction engineer, Kinyera David.  These basic guidelines are designed for latrines for use by 50 people per day. This extrapolates to our 4-stance latrine model, thus allowing for a user rate of 200 people per day. 

     Latrines should be hygienic, free from bad smells, inaccessible to flies and other insects, and should not contaminate ground water

     1. The presence of a sanitary latrine should promote good hygiene behavior.
     2. Latrines should ensure safe disposal of excreta.
     3. They should provide the minimum requirement of safety and privacy to the users, with the superstructure providing the minimum amount of privacy required, especially for the female students (separate changing room for female students is accounted for in the AP model).
     4. A bin for hygienic disposal of sanitary materials must be provided in every chamber in the latrine.
     5. Hand washing facilities must be provided beside each latrine in every rural latrine.
     6. In unstable soil condition, the pit must be lined with locally available materials like bricks, stones etc.

     The completion of the brick and mortar substructure is displayed in the accompanying pictures, and the crucial difference between the failed government latrine that collapsed into a sinkhole and the AP model is the installation of reinforcement bars (rebar) within the substructure to support the weight of the latrine superstructure. The cement structure of the failed government latrine lacked this supporting rebar. 

     

     Cement is basically water, sand, and aggregate that congeals to form a solid mass. Rebar allows for the concrete to congeal around an inner steel structure, and with the triangular shape of David’s rebar formation, the concrete is strengthened at multiple impact points as the concrete takes shape around the three individual rebar poles and the triangular wire formations that serves to bind the rebar. With no rebar, the concrete is more vulnerable to weight stress and will succumb to applied weight and crack and create a sinkhole, as happened in the government’s previous attempt at latrine construction.

     David has six separate triangular rebar structures that will redistribute the upper weight of the stances, walls, roof, brick, and mortar at six separate points of the substructure. This is latrine construction engineering at its finest, hats off to David. It follows the agreed upon norms of supporting bricks in rural latrine construction and will prove superior to past government latrine construction effort. The ultimate goal is the adoption of the AP construction model and its associated budget by the Gulu District Director of Education, Treasurer, with approval by the Gulu District Ministry of Health and Safety. We are off to an impressive start with the Abaka latrine project and await the next phase, the installation of a cement slab to cover and seal the latrine pit, which is expected to commence this Friday. Once Saturday rolls around, David and his crew of seven will begin above ground construction of walls and stances, culminating in the final phase of the walkway and ramp construction in a month’s time, give or take a day or two.

     

     So far, we remain on schedule, with an anticipated mid-August completion date of the 14th. Cost overruns have come in the form of extra cement bags, two extra loads of brick and mortar, and 10 days extended use of the sub-pump to relieve the latrine pit of ground and rainwater. With any construction project, it is wise to expect a 5% to 10% budget overrun due to factors such as unusable or busted cement bags, unreliable vendors, underestimation of materials needed, and uncontrollable adverse weather conditions. 

     Despite the small setbacks, we are confident that the AP latrine model and accompanying budget will prove to be superior to present day contractual bids submitted to the local government. The Gulu District’s previous latrine project amounted to contractor costs in the excess of $12,000 USD, with AP budget estimates for latrine construction amounting to less than $6000 USD, with overruns accounted for in the AP calculation. The work of AP and GDPU will prove to be an efficient and effective model for latrine construction at half the cost and serve as the leading choice for future school latrine construction proposals considered by the Gulu District Board of Education.
     

505. Children and Peace

     12:39 pm 5 Comments

     So far, in my brief time working with the Children Peace Initiative Kenya, I have become personally inspired by the methodology of utilizing children to resolve ethnic strife.  From Kambi Garba to Gotu to Bendera, I have seen strong friendships be made where previous (and present) conflict-lines have been drawn.  However, does my anecdotal understanding of this program and the apparent successes really present a powerful argument in its favor?  What kind of leverage do children hold in these dynamic and long-standing conflicts?

     

     As I reflect, I can think of several arguments that could be presented against the methodology of utilizing children to build peace.  Firstly, the children are usually the victims and not the perpetrators of violent raids.  So, can children truly be a mechanism for change despite their lack of agency in violent events?  Next, children are often held in a subservient position to adults within traditional hierarchies.  This begs the question; how can they establish change if they have very little apparent political power?  Another possible criticism is that the children hold very little economic power, as they do not own the assets that require access to natural resources.  How can children influence the underlying economic dynamics of pastoral land, if they in fact do not own the cattle/goats/camels that need that land?  Lastly, there is a long-standing tradition of cattle raiding within the customary legal institutions, so what can children actually do to change these norms with centuries (if not more) of historical precedence?

     In response to these criticisms, we must first address the last assertion of cattle raiding being well-founded within historical precedence.  While, at face value, this assertion is correct, it neglects important contextual components that differentiate recent raids from past raids.  Marginalization of northern ethnicities, founded during colonialism, continues to this day.  The current political blocs, founded largely by landed agriculturalist elites, have continued political paradigms that provide services, infrastructure, and political voice to specific ethnic constituents.  This marginalization has led to the intensification of conflict between marginalized groups over limited resources.  Furthermore, ecological strain, the introduction of advanced weaponry, and the erosion of customary legal institutions by rogue warriors (who act upon ethnic lines, but who do not respect traditional communal raiding practices) influenced by an opaque black market for cattle distinguish the present-day conflict from historical practices.

     

     Given the above mentioned contextual differences, what can children with no economic leverage actually do to influence the peace and reconciliation process?  Simply put, children are the future.  They will inherit the herds of cattle/camels/goats and will be responsible for managing resources.  By establishing cooperative relationships with bordering communities, resource management will change from a winner-take-all ethnic paradigm to a mutually beneficial form of interaction.

     This argument is substantiated by recent events in Samburu, where Pokot tribesmen (from Baringo) migrated their herds to Samburu after severe drought in the Baringo area.  This migration and use of land in Samburu happened peacefully unlike years prior and was facilitated by the years of work conducted by CPI in the area.

     The final two responses are inherently interconnected and are key to understanding the Children Peace Initiative methodology.  While children hold very little sway within the traditional age-based hierarchies and are usually not perpetrators of violent raids, they possess subtle influence on their familial networks and could become future perpetrators or accomplices of such raids.  Accordingly, children are both a medium for peace and the results of peace.  Children may advocate for their friends in another community or bring them to their families and villages.  Unlike adults, “children are not threatening,” as asserted by CPI Kenya’s Director Hilary Bukuno, permitting even the most ethnocentric community members to let down their guard.  Children are also, according to Mr. Bukuno, “blank slates” and do not carry the prejudices and pains of their forefathers.  CPI Deputy Director Monica Kinyua adds, “children have a short memory for bad things and a long memory for good things.”   With this in mind, friendship and fun between childhood friends may serve to build future relations between adults.

     

     By understanding the initiative through this lens, we can see how the simple act of giving a gift or bringing a friend home for a cup of tea can facilitate systematic change.  Interactions between children and entire communities can act to mitigate the effects of political disempowerment, economic marginalization, and ecological crisis.  Children can not only build peace but sustain it for generations to come.

506. Immediate friends

     July 12, 2019 9:14 am 5 Comments

     As we get older, making new friends can be hard.  We become fixed in our ways, we think we know who we are and who is worth our time, and we actively try to avoid the pain of our past.  Children are different.  Like raindrops rolling down an umbrella, bad experiences are easily forgotten in the expectation of fun and friendship.

     The Zivik-CPI Kenya Peace Program in Baragoi takes advantage of the capacity of children to ignore the bad in favor of the good.  This was highlighted during the 2019 Peace Camp at Bendera Primary School, located in a village that is only a short drive from the town of Baragoi.  The Peace Camp brought together 250 children of two different ethnicities and opposite sides of a two-decade conflict.  The children of the Turkana communities of Natiti, Nachola, and Lenkima were brought together with Samburu children of the communities of Bendera, Simiti, and Ngilai.

     Prior to meeting, Children Peace Initiative Kenya surveyed the upcoming beneficiaries to better understand the children’s perspective on ethnic stereotypes and openness to friendship.  The responses to the survey were sometimes startling.  One girl cried as she recalled that her father had been killed by a member of the Turkana community.  Another boy claimed that Samburu only like to kill.  In summary, the majority of respondents expressed feelings of fear, anxiety, and anger when asked to reflect on the other ethnic group.

     

     Despite the results of this survey, the Peace Camp proved that children can easily forget such feelings and bigotry when in a fun environment.  Within hours of encountering each other, Linda Lokorio, a 12-year-old Turkana girl from Natiti Primary School, and Sanapai Lolenik, a 13-year-old Samburu girl from Bendera Primary School, could be seen walking and giggling together.  The teachers and staff stood in awe.  Without a single planned activity, friendship had found a way.

     Upon arrival to the Peace Camp, the segregation of the children was easily visible.  Masses of yellow and green, blue and pink, and red and orange were gathered together and moved like amoebas.  The multi-color uniforms were like those of competing 18^th century soldiers and made identifying your “group/clique” almost intuitive.  However, just as dictated in the law of entropy, this order required immense energy… an energy that would be better used in the pursuit of fun.

     And, just like that, Linda and Sanapai were not the only ones.  The color-coordinated masses dissolved into each other within hours.  The chattering of the children shifted from the two distinguishable languages of Samburu and Turkana to a collectively intelligible Swahili.

     

     The following morning, the CPI Kenya staff and I went to observe and interrogate some of these blossoming friendships.  The first friends that I found were Petro Aurien and Isaya Lemarkele.  Petro hailed from the small Turkana village of Lenkima and the orange ribbon that signified his team (one sixteen interethnic teams for the games) hung around his neck like a tie, almost blending in with his orange school uniform.  Isaya was far more talkative and outgoing.  Maybe because he was coming from the host school or maybe because he didn’t want his new friend to feel pressured to speak.  He explained how, as a Samburu boy he “didn’t know the Turkana”.  Even more surprisingly, Isaya remarked on how he and Petro became friends within hours of arriving.  This is surprising because prior to the camp, Petro had expressed strong sentiments against people of Samburu communities, influenced by peers and family members.  However, the prejudice that had been ingrained into him over years of conflict and animosity melted away in mere hours.

     In that morning, I had the opportunity to speak with countless friends before the morning program begun.  Many of the friends had already given one another gifts.  From jewelry to candy to juice, each gift represented a commitment to another person that could easily have been an enemy.  Rose Ebaan, a 12-year-old Turkana girl old from Nachola, came to speak with me, her fingers laced with her new friend and a multi-color bracelet hugging her small arm.  She told me that “Felistry Lolkalepi”, her new friend from Bendera, “gave this bracelet to me”. 

     

     These stories of individual friendships can easily build into a lasting peace.  These children have chosen to rebuff the ethnicity-based hatred of their families, friends and communities.  With their choice to see a companion in a person who has always been labeled as an enemy in their short lives, they are adding the last straw to the camels back and breaking down a system of intolerance and enmity.

     If you feel inspired to support this program, please refer to the CPI Kenya GlobalGiving page dedicated to this project.