Raise the Age and Bobby Bostic: Sharing a Core Need for Juvenile Justice Reform

The Missouri State Senate voted to Raise the Age (RTA) of juvenile jurisdiction from 17 to 18 last week (SB793) and it is now up to the House to officially pass this juvenile justice reform.  Missouri is still 1 of 5 who hasn’t passed RTA legislation and would become the 46^th State to Raise the Age.  “Once I get (the) Senate’s version, we will become (the) 46^th state to pass Raise the Age,” tweeted Nicholas Schroer (R) – O’Fallon, the sponsor for HB1255. State after state has proven that this type of juvenile justice reform certainly can help keep our juveniles from becoming repeat offenders and out of the criminal justice system.  Research has shown us that kids aren’t able to assess risks and consequences like adults would. Raising the age would help to recreate a social environ that rehabilitates our youngsters instead of subjecting them to adult prisons.

Sixteen at the time of his crime, Bobby Bostic is serving a 241-year prison sentence for armed robbery.  Although there is no excuse for putting other humans in harm’s way, the Missouri Supreme Court’s view on juveniles serving life sentences without parole isn’t just.   Crimes should have just consequences.  No one was killed or seriously injured.  Bobby deserves a chance to be eligible for resentencing, as the Supreme Court ruled in Graham vs. Florida, 560 U.S. 48 (2010) that the Constitution prohibits sentencing juveniles not charged with homicide to life without parole. Further, the court deemed it “cruel and unusual,” to guarantee that a juvenile non-homicide defendant “will die in prison without any meaningful opportunity to obtain release.”

Determined by case law, Bostic wasn’t sentenced to life in prison without parole, which as it stands would have made him eligible for resentencing and the possibility of a realistic parole date.  Instead, Bobby’s parole date puts him at age 112, equating his judgment to a death sentence. Is the Missouri Supreme Court infringing on Bobby Bobby Bostic’s 8^th Amendment rights?  Given the court’s conclusions, Bobby, a juvenile at the time of his crime, serving an aggregate sentence that is equivalent to life without parole is entitled to a meaningful opportunity for release.  Juvenile offencders need rehabilitation and require community support, not death sentences.

Missouri’s 17-year olds are currently at an economic disadvantage compared to their peers in 45 other states.  Although Bobby Bostic’s situation is an extreme case, juveniles are being subjected to similar rulings given that we’ve yet to adopt this conservative criminal justice reform.  According to Missouri’s Uniform Crime Reporting Program, in 2015, the vast majority of 17-year olds were arrested for property offenses like possession of marijuana (1,020 arrests) and larceny (1,355 arrests).  Their criminal records for low-level offenses, could affect their ability to go to college, get a job or find housing.  Nationally, youth held in adult jails are 36 times more likely to commit suicide than youth in juvenile detention facilities. Moreover, according to a recent study by Human Impact Partners, youth prosecuted, as adults are 34% more likely to reoffend after leaving the adult system a clear distinction from children placed in the judicial system.

It is now up to the Missouri House of Representatives to pass this much-need criminal justice reform.  As a result, all youth under 18 would start their cases in juvenile court.   As a society, we must ask ourselves what we are doing.  What are we saying to our youth? Most poignant, for displaced aggression and misdemeanors committed by teens, we are essentially conveying the message that they aren’t worth a second chance at life.  Let’s get it straight Missouri. We all were 17 once.  No one is saying crime shouldn’t have consequences.  But sentencing should be just and equal to all who commit crimes, including the poor, misunderstood and marginalized.  The hope is that legislators across the aisle will continue making strides towards change but our juvenile justice system continues to fail our youth.  We can no longer stand to fall behind the rest of the United States on this important facet of reform.  In 2018, parents, teachers, school administrators, the division of youth services, law enforcement and legislators need act for the sake of our youth.  Juvenile justice reform is immediate.

 

Adevărat A Înviat!

I’ve returned to Moldova for the fourth time.  Right.  I know!  I love my host country, I must.  I’ve returned to yet another view of Moldovan livelihood.  I was born in the village, grew up in an even smaller village and barely learned how to pay bills in my humble apartment not far from Peace Corps.  Now, I’ve managed (well my school Director) managed, to find me an “apartment on the hill”.

The days of hauling two 2-gallon water pails up 2 flights of stairs, squatting over latrines and firing up good ‘ol Sora are long passed.  Don’t get me wrong,  I will visit at the drop of a hat.  I love my students in #Cruglic and I love my #family in #MileștiiMici.  In fact, I’m about a week late and a leu short but I returned to the “Meech” (Mileștii Mici) to celebrate Paște with my host parents.  What’s more, I felt an immediate obligation to post as tomorrow we celebrate Ziua Blajinilor, another sacred Moldovan tradition.

Easter, (for those of you unwilling to Google), not unlike the States, is full of tradition here in Moldova.  The core principle, that the Son of God died on the Cross and rose from the dead after three days, is the same.  Should you run into a Moldovan 40 days prior to Easter, you may find them a bit hungry.  Moldovans sacrifice meat, dairy and pretty much everything but vegetables during this fast in recognition of God’s sacrifice for our sins.  One could probably liken it to that of the Daniel Fast.  I made the mistake of oversleeping on Sunday morning and felt absolutely horrid I’d furthered my host mom’s misery.  Sheesh.  Alarm anyone?

Once I arrived half baked and awake, host mom blessed me, the kitchen and food with a dried busuioc (basil) branch and apă sfântă (holy water).  Sitting in front of me was a large white vat with cool apă (water), bănuți (Moldovan coins) and 3 oue (eggs). Moldovan tradition has it that you wash the coins, eggs and your face in the water.  The tradition is to bring forth a fruitful and prosperous year.  Afterwhich, host mama blessed the kitchen once more.

On Easter Day, a masă is served.  Typical.  But on this day, red eggs (representing the blood of Christ) are cracked between two people, one saying “Christ is risen” (“Hristos a înviat!”) and the other answering “Indeed he is risen” (“Adevărat a înviat!”).

Boiling eggs in home-made colorant (dye), host mama is creative with patrunjel leaves that create design when carefully placed on eggs prior to boiling

Cooling eggs on baking sheet

 

It is also a tradition to eat “pasca” or the special Easter cake.  Baked on Great Thursday, this turnover is made of yeast dough with a sweet cottage cheese filling. One of the parents at the school where I teach, was kind of enough to gift me a pasca…and of course, I forgot it.  Also, lamb meat is traditionally served on Easter Day, since lambs are usually associated with Christ.  Not on this day.  Host mama hooked the table up with răcitură, pârjoale, pasca and plenty of bread and veggies for me!  I’ve since crossed the pescatarian threshold.  And need I forget vinul (the wine), biscuiți (cookies) and bomboane (candy)!

Plates of baked chicken in warm chicken drippings (juice); once cooled, drippings will gelatinize making for a “toothsome” Moldovan tradition

Host mama’s sisters of course paid us a visit. Hearing them chew the cud about their daddy, who is still living up the block and around the way and/or how to plant tubers is always interesting.  More interesting than that, arguing with host dad at the table long after masă is complete about various topics such as politics, capitalism and America’s president (rolling my eyes). The amount of vocabulary I can learn on my visits to the Meech, are worth paying host dad and mom for the sessions!

The trip to the biserică wasn’t so bad either.  Biserici (plural) are beautiful.  I’ve heard of members of the Orthodox community standing for hours.  Last week, we were in and out under 1.5 hours, including snapshots with the little black girl Moldoveancă (a.k.a. oaspetă or guest) from America! I enjoyed the service.  The practices of Orthodoxy are a bit different from Christianity.  Howbeit, purchasing candles, forming a cross with your fingers and kissing photos of Jesus, Mary and St. Joseph often remind me of Catholic traditions.  Where in the world is Iz-ra-el-ă???!

Mass participants on Easter Sunday, Mileștii Mici, Moldova

 

 

 

 

“Moldovan Hospitality”

Moving to Moldova by far had to have been one of the scariest moments in my life. But when we arrived in Moldova, I shall never forget being funneled into the vast ASEM (Academy of Economic Studies of Moldova) classroom one by one where two lovely locals (patiently awaiting our arrival), were dressed to kill in their colorful national garb.

The man wore a white embroidered shirt, a vest trimmed with sheep fleece, white pants, a hat decorated with peacock feathers and a wide belt.

Moldovan Women’s and Men’s Traditional Clothing**

The young woman wore a white embroidered blouse, an embroidered vest similar to that of the man’s vest and a white skirt with lace on the hem, covered by a black embroidered overskirt. She held a huge loaf of bread shaped in the form of a miniature tire.  At the time I had no idea it was called a colac. It typically sits atop a runner and in its doughnut hole rests a tub of salt, as it had that particular day.

Colac cu sare*

The tradition: Moldovans are seriously over the moon when they have guests.  For this tradition, the “bread and salt” can be experienced during official events and even at local performances when you go with a group of tourists. This tradition is also practiced at weddings, often occurring during the wedding reception.  Not unlike a certain American tradition (with cake), couples break off a piece of bread, dip it in salt and feed each other in Moldova.

The reason: When important and/or respected guests arrive they are presented with this custom as it represents wealth and protection.  The custom extends from Russian tradition; they’ve always believed that bread symbolizes wealth and salt offers protection from evil. Now the common practice is offered as a symbol of hospitality.

Performances

The tradition: Go anywhere for any holiday in Moldova and you are inevitably going to run into a performance. Moldovans like to dance, sing and play instruments. They also perform funny skits and monologues. But my favorite of all is the recitation of poetry. Children as young as 4 and 5 years old memorize stanzas of beautiful poems (typically written by a man). They perform them at recitals, after-school programs, competitions and of course in front of their family, teachers and peers.

The reason:  During my service (2-years), I truly believe Moldovans absolutely love to entertain.  They are extremely talented and critical of their imperfections. Given their history in the Soviet Regime, I’ve gathered that the sharing of culture through art (dance, song, poetry, etc.) is a rich tradition that can be passed down generations.  Think about it, sharing your talent doesn’t cost you anything?  Learning a poem is FREE!  The joy on my students’ faces when they knock out a performance after practicing their creative routines for weeks is the most rewarding feeling to experience!  Check out this link for a cool performance!

Mese (Masă plural)!

The tradition: Nothing says hospitality like a Moldovan Masă! Moldovan women prepare their extensive meals for days in celebration of Hram (holidays that celebrate a specific Saint i.e. Valentine, Ion, Peter), Weddings (Nunți), Independence Day (Ziua Independenței), Christmas (Crăciun), New Years (An Nou) and Birthdays (including their own!) What is served? Beef, chicken, duck, various salads and side dishes, bread, cookies, chocolates and of course homemade wine and whiskey!

The reason:  In an age where our phones consume much of our communication time, it is so refreshing to sit down and have meals in Moldova.  Meals are a biiiig deal in my host country. It is a critical time to catch up on village news, discuss what’s going on at school, politics and/or telling old stories, the masă is a force to be reckoned with and something to be valued especially in our modern times.  Believe me when I say, Moldovans can do this for hours!    Tip: (1) Eat in small quantities over longer periods of time.  (2) Sip your wine and (3) ALWAYS, ALWAYS go back for more.  When folks starting opening candy, don’t think you’ve won just yet.  Repeat Step 1 for two more rounds!

Awards Ceremony Masă

Hram (Celebrating Sfîntul Ion)

Teachers Day (Ziua Profesorilor)

Typcial Sunday with my Host Family

Home-made whiskey is sold at thepiața

Home-made wine too!

This post is part of Blogging Abroad’s 2017 New Years Blog Challenge, week five: Hospitality.

* “Bread with Salt” Photo Credit

** Moldovan Clothing Photo Credit

Where Hope and Change Are Infinite (Part 2)

(cont. from “Leaning Where?…”)

Frederick Douglass*

Frederick continued to teach himself and convinced white children to teach him what they knew as well. He began to see why slave owners would have a problem with slaves having the ability to read. I reflect on my ancestral history to say that I often felt the very same philosophy pervasive in Moldova. For so many years, Moldovans were told how to dress, who to marry and how much heat they can use during winter months. Much of this I attribute to tradition. But much of this is due to a dictatorship liken to that of slavery.

There were many of moments when I was told “we couldn’t” (or “wouldn’t ” for that matter) because the idea had never been done and the fear of the unknown, the fear of failing at something with which Moldovans were not familiar, often cast our productivity aside for months. But, “I know the plans I have for you…” kept reverberating in my heart and instead of allowing the discouragement of disagreeable partnerships, the disheartening news of Mike Brown, Takia Boyd and Khalief Browder (among countless others) overwhelm me, I leaned into the Lord. Instead of allowing the silliness of comparing my life to that of the virtual world that is Facebook I decided to believe God’s promise for my life. After that decision (which is a daily one), my community and I soared.

Let’s Be Real
Coming into the realization that I must not act from a self-absorbed place and instead from a place outside myself was the turning point.  A few security incidents threw me off kilter but overall discovering my newfound faith in God and his promise for my life through service tapped into a treasure of hope I’d never experienced.  By offering selfless energy, service forced me to commiserate with learned limitations and to truly respect Moldovan tradition. No more was I frustrated by my expectations of “how things should go” or “how I could help make things better”.  The focus was no longer self and instead came from places most important and true. I began to see the “why” and built from there. The creativity of community, the diligence and desire to be frumos, all held silver linings of hope and therein lay change.

I began to treasure the rawness of one trying to incorporate a foreigner that 1. didn’t understand their traditions and 2. didn’t speak their language.  The fear that must come with trying to evolve your already complicated life around some guest.  The doubts one must have that the guest might be willing to adapt to a simple life.  The task of trusting another human being into your space. The admittance that the guest might contribute in ways that have the potential of improving your enterprise.  The challenge must be great for one to deal with all of the above and dive into the next 18 months headlong, eyes shut and fists clinched.  How would I react to someone trying to tell me how to steer my ship?  Not unlike Frederick Douglass, Moldovans were forced to step out into the murky wilderness and I had to respect the time it took for the process.  This took compassion, humility and love, love for my friends and students, love for our traditions, love for our strengths as well as our weaknesses.  As one can see, I became we  and my became our.  For me, the realization that hope and change were always there is still mind-blowing today.  I just had to move out of the way long enough to see them.

*Photo Credit

This post is part of Blogging Abroad’s 2017 New Years Blog Challenge, week four: Change and Hope.

Leaning Where?… (Part 1)

Internet Access is Rather Accessible

In this day and age it is easy to get bogged down by pics of someone’s fancy wedding day,  pics of a second child, the latest country they are canvassing. Easy it is to become overwhelmed by the carnage, the exhibitions of hatred and corruption, the distribution of fake news. The advent of the Internet and social media increase the likelihood of community but they also increase the anxiety that comes with comparing our lives to worlds that at times are invented, embellished and dare I say it, false. The anxiety in knowing that our once most trusted avenues of information will now lead us astray as to be able to say they “published it first” regardless of its truth, denies us hope.

While at home (in my host country Moldova), I lost hope a couple of times.  But I often leaned into my faith for strength. I am unashamed of the God I serve. I think the idea of God scares some because religion (a man-made label) as far back as slavery, has been abused to serve man’s purposes. “For I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” – Jeremiah 29:11  It is God’s promise that gave and gives me hope.

Integration and Learning the Ropes

There were plenty of times I wanted to give up on my service. I remember trying to integrate into my permanent site and thinking: “Will I ever fit in?” “Will I ever learn the language?”  “Will my partners ever respect me?” Add these anxieties to that of returning to my casa mică to observe the lives of family and friends on social media and I have a ticking bomb for turning inward. And as much as listening to DemocracyNow! eventually became a place of empowerment, its initial impact made my first months in Moldova quite depressing.

“Moments of Thought”, View from inside my casa mică Cruglic, Moldova

Leaning into the Lord gave me hope. Praying brought me peace. Laughing with dad (via SKYPE) served as a boost. And my mom’s encouraging scriptures gave me resolve and focus. Of course I made friends in the Corps, some of whom I still keep in contact. Eventually, I learned to stay busy and to dig deep when I felt my partners lacked vision (no matter how many times we’d succeeded prior), the times my students were disrespectful or lacked appreciation or even when my efforts were stifled by ignorance, fear and/or corruption. And I don’t just mean political corruption. Corruption comes in many vehicles. But the main vehicle is that of the unknown.

• 
  Frederick Douglass, Social Reformer, Abolitionist, Orator, Writer*

Frederick Douglass was a slave, briefly taught how to read by his mistress (wife of slave owner). His lessons were eventually ceased by the slave owner as he feared Frederick’s ability to read might empower him enough to run away. But Frederick had a different plan. (to be continued…)

This post is part of Blogging Abroad’s 2017 New Years Blog Challenge, week four: Change and Hope.

Moldova, Missouri…What’s The Difference Really?

I Love Nature!!

So I would like to play a little game to commence this week’s blog. I need you to determine whether the nature images (below) can be found in Missouri (my home State) or Moldova (my host country). Take a wild guess, it’ll be fun!

Missouri or Moldova?

Missouri or Moldova?

Missouri or Moldova?

How did you do?

Most Common American Questions (about Moldova)

Each time I’ve returned home for a visit, the most prevalent questions were:

Most Common Questions About Moldova
Question	Response
Where is Moldova?	Between Romania and Ukraine (along the Black Sea)
Do they have internet?	Yes, in fact my access to the net is an upgrade compared to the States. It’s faster and less expensive.
What kinds of food do they eat?	Lots of vegetables, meat, mămăligă of course and wine!
Are there black people?	No, there are a few Africans but not many African Americans at all (mostly Peace Corps Volunteers and employees of the American Embassy).

Since my affiliation with Moldova in 2014 (and the beginning of my service), I’ve learned there isn’t much difference between Moldovans and Americans.

However, there is one topic of which I must entertain.

Brady Bunch (1969-1974), photo credit: Newsday*

As recent as the 1960’s and 70’s (think The Brady Bunch), women were hailed for their expected ability to stay at home, cook, clean and care for the children. The men, brought home “the bacon”. It is 2017, and for a great part of Moldovan village life, this social structure remains. All too often the common belief system of that of the man being the head of his household reigns true. There are women in power as well; school directors, business owners, legislators hold leadership roles in more urban areas such as our capital Chișinaău. As much as we Americans would like to think this social construct no longer exists in our 1^st world society, it does. It’s simply not as overt as what I experienced in my host country.  There is a certain beauty in these expectations however.

 

The Beauty: Cohesiveness of Family

I certainly don’t point out some Moldovan cultural differences as to say they are wrong.  What I once considered silly and entirely ridiculous in some instances are very sacred for many Moldovan families.  Unfortunately, some structural traditions aren’t so healthy, all the way down to community members allowing a woman to endure physical abuse (without anyone ever standing in the gap for her) because “family business is not their business”. But such is still true in America. We don’t like to discuss it either eh? We’d like to think we’ve progressed further but such is simply not the case in many instances.

The beauty however of this framework: cohesiveness of family. Somehow, someway, family is still quite important in Moldova. Bearing children is of greater importance as compared to higher education in the States.  Ensuring a good and decent family life is your legacy as opposed to how quickly one is called “a doctor” at home. I suppose these generalizations are family-based, people-based, meaning of course they don’t apply to all families; these generalizations don’t apply to all people.

To be honest, I grew to appreciate the “order of things”. This is not to say that our non-traditional modern traditions are non-functional.  I am a woman, raised in a 2-parent household and I truly believe I can do anything!  Haha! But the “order of things” sometimes is very necessary as to avoid sinking, to keep believing in that framework.  The familiarity by which a man eats his meal and leaves the plate for his woman to collect after she’s cooked all day works. He’s tired and frankly unfamiliar with such “womanly” duties. So goes the wife…as she is pleased in having well planned, well-executed meals.  She is comforted in knowing her food is tasty, her house is clean her children are frumoși (well-behaved).  For her, she simply wants her work to be appreciated, respected and esteemed highly. And he wants the same.

Nature, Inquiry and the Beauty of it’s Cohesiveness

So what is the common thread for all my random topics this week?  There is no difference between standing on the Niștru in Moldova or the Missouri River because your principle cultural beliefs will be challenged no matter the speed of your internet or how much mămăligă you eat.  The very core of our upbringing is often rocked when we realize culture is not actually a phenomenon.  Of course, our cultural identities are what create the rich world we share.  And they certainly are not to be denied.  The essence of owning one’s origin (traditions, beliefs) is important. No matter the structure, it gives us a sense of meaning, belonging, purpose.  But these so-called phenomena (a.k.a. cultural differences) give us equal playing field and therein lies no difference, not really.  Cultural norms are essential but they too may need adjusting for the sake of growth. We are constantly evolving, shaped daily by our ethnicity, family history, education, the joys and devastations of life. Sure the building blocks come in a variety of sizes and shapes but the end product is ultimately the same.

This post is part of Blogging Abroad’s 2017 New Years Blog Challenge, week three: Cultural Differences.  http://bloggingabroad.org/2017-challenge

Habitat Global Village: Colombia 2017

I can’t believe it has been 6 years and what a phenomenal blessing service has proven to be.  Below are the details for this year’s mission.  Be sure to include the identification numbers so that your support/donation will be applied to the correct mission and the correct participant (me!)

Event Code: GV17268

Member ID: 9379-2631

Cruglic Moldova, 2016

Antigua, Guatemala 2011

Managua, Nicaragua 2012

St. Louis, Missouri, USA 2013

Bogotà, Colombia, 2013

Bogotà, Colombia, 2013

Bogotà, Colombia, 2013

Bogotà, Colombia, 2013

Peace Corps Moldova, 2014-2016

Bogotà, Colombia, 2013

Antigua, Guatemala 2011

Cruglic, Moldova 2014

Bogotà, Colombia, 2013

St. Louis, Missouri (USA) 2014

Bogotà, Colombia, 2013

Ohrincea, Moldova 2016

If you would like to contribute, there are multiple ways:

1. Simply show your support by going here or here.  Click “Become A Supporter”.  It literally takes 2 minutes.  The more supporters towards the cause will be observed on social media, creating opportunities for others to show support as well!
2. To make a quick donation go here and donate $10, $20, $50 or $100 to the overall mission (please don’t forget the Event Code and Member ID above).
   

   LAC = Latin America/Caribbean  HFHI = Habitat for Humanity International

   3.  Choose a section of the transparent budget (provided above), that you would like to donate a monetary contribution towards. Please don’t forget to highlight your section when you submit the donation (if you choose).  For example:  “I supported Is today by donating towards advocacy event!”

   4.  Team up with a couple of friends or colleagues and donate as a group towards one of the budgeted items! If you would like, don’t forget to let us know how you contributed to the mission. For example: “We supported Is today by donating towards the host program affiliate donation!”

   HIGH IMPACT TEAM 2016

About Habitat Global Village, go to habitat.org

About Ciudadela Sucre

Ciudadela Sucre is an informal settlement in Soacha, just south of Bogotà, the capital of Colombia.  Purchased in 1983, the settlement did not (and still can’t) provide services to its inhabitants who were originally displaced by the violence left by armed conflict in Colombia.  There is very little access to the settlement as roads are limited both in and out of Soacha. Because of this, families are without proper housing, sanitation, infrastructure, health care and other basic needs you and I don’t even consider on a daily basis.

What has the “Tribe” accomplished in 3 years?

2013 – Paved Road, 3 homes (incremental housing projects that included pouring floors, building walls and rooves)

2014 – Bleachers (soccer field), 3 homes (incremental housing projects that included pouring floors, building walls and rooves)

2015 – Concrete Field (soccer), Sports equipment, 3 homes (incremental housing projects that included pouring floors, building walls and rooves)

Where is my money going?

* 50% of DONATION goes to infrastructure (typically a community project/in-kind labor donation)

*50% of DONATION goes to housing improvements (typically 3 deserving families)

*travel and meal costs will be donated by volunteer ($505)

Is my donation tax deductible?

Yes, check out that info here

How can I make a direct impact?

You are making an impact right now!  By taking the time to read more about our cause, we appreciate your efforts!  You can join our team and/or donate towards the overall mission here.

Can I attend the mission trip?

Of course!  Find more information here or contact our team leaders Sara or Kathy via email directly:

Sara Fairfoot: yofairfoot@gmail.com

Kathy George: kat11geo@yahoo.com

OR go here

I remember when I first committed myself to supporting international missions.  For 6  years now, I have worked tirelessly both domestically and abroad towards the overreaching disadvantage of poverty: child abandonment, homelessness, affordable housing, malnutrition as well as the lack of health care, juvenile justice reform and education and leadership.  Unfortunately, I am unable to fund entire missions myself and although I would never ask you to donate towards something I myself haven’t (or won’t), I have successfully attended 4 missions with the help of crowdfunding a.k.a. YOU!   Community development is my passion and the career I’ve chosen.  I take that back, it chose me!  DONATE TODAY!!!

With sincerest of gratitude,

Is

More questions? Go here or here

Let Me Start From the Beginning

Let Me Start From the Beginning

Iraqi horizon at sunset

I sat next to you one day,

I mispronounced I-RACK…

I thought it one way,

you said it back.

Like the way I’ve written my poem?

You see,

It’s incorrect.

“Ear-ROCK” you said,

It took me back.

I didn’t have much to say after that.

A single story I can’t deny

‘Til I heard a former CIA* confess…

He wished to help your family,

REBUILD.

Full of regret,

he told of the lack of respect

the interfering…

leaving your homeland in political paralysis

and impoverished economy…

a halted government,

failed sanitation,

held hostage in debt,

unstable,

a major upset.

I had a single story

One-sided and ignorant you see

but 4000 American lives–

and… hundreds… of thousands… of Iraqis,

the catastrophe, the damage,

amidst the chaos,

one man’s pride

and a debrief of lies.

I sat next to an Iraqi once,

his family beautiful,

his silence unbearable…

If I had another chance,

I’d ask him to start from the beginning.

-jusTIzz

 

As I reflected on this week’s challenge, I smiled as I can sort of extend the conversation from last week’s post Our World Is A Home of Hosts.   I drew a comparison between interdependency and chocolate soufflé. For more, you’ll have to return to the blog post. For now, I say again, we humans rely on one another, not because there is a desire necessarily but because it is necessary.

My apologies, but this post isn’t about my host country (Moldova), not like most. No, Let Me Start From the Beginning, was inspired by an unsettling feeling I experienced while I sat in the room of an Iraqi for the first time. A gentleman, he allowed me to sit on a bench to enjoy my snack foods elegantly.  I confess, I am guilty. All I could think about was Saddam Hussein. Now please, let me premise my comments by saying that I do not agree with how Mr. Hussein led his country.  But terrible, my first images of him in his dress greens and black burét, his right arm stretched out over the faces of his people. And then the very symbol of him toppled and to many Americans, it and his demise came down to their delight. That was all. I said nothing more to the gentleman at the party. Shamefully, I can’t even recall his name.

Iraq

I suck at that anyway. But his story, I’d only known the end. I’d only known what they told me. I didn’t know about the beauty he may have experienced before his country was left in poverty and ruin.  Perhaps I may have found his childhood, memories of his native land rather interesting.  Why couldn’t we just leave the Iraqis alone? Why couldn’t we respond to Mr. Hussein’s communications? Why didn’t we? Why were his alleged WMDs (weapons of mass destruction) more important than our practicing peace?  It is unfortunate I didn’t have the wherewithal to ask him of things I didn’t know…perhaps a positive perspective I’d never seen or heard.

It saddens me to think that Moldovans believe that African Americans are lazy, thieves and rappers. I came from a sound home. We aren’t perfect but we certainly aren’t these stereotypical images and neither are all black people (African Americans).  Don’t get me wrong, in most instances Moldovans are ignorant. Admittedly, Moldovans haven’t been well informed about African Americans (or “Negri”) or of the African American experience for that matter.  I don’t know how many times I’ve walked along the streets of Chișinău only to be whistled at or called out of my name (inappropriate here). The faint image of the sexy Jezebel creates the fantasies in their minds as their comments are quite often sexual innuendos.  They simply do not know and they won’t, until we have the conversation. This is why we start from the beginning.

I will never forget, after the slaying of Mike Brown in 2014, the images that kept playing relentlessly on Moldovan television. There were protests and riots (there is a difference). But the media focused on the riots, the looting and negroes in the worst light possible. Mind you, my Romanian was like 4 months old. Can you picture me trying to explain: “not all black people are like what you are seeing portrayed in the news??” Not easy, like at all. Media didn’t afford me the option of starting from the beginning. From the beginning, my ancestors were dragged thousands of miles away from their homelands, their families, their all, only to die aboard packed ships labeled “cargo” (a common chattel), or risk enslavement and re-enslavement for the rest of their days. How could I expound upon “in the beginning” our women were raped and to this day can’t live down the stigma that we are only to be used as “sex goddesses”, objects of possession.

“Black Lives Matter” is more than just a slogan, it is a way of life with layers of complicated history

Discussing the slaying of Sam Dubose

Having a groundbreaking discussion about “growing up African American in America” with 12th form highschool students

That our black men wore targets on their backs once they’d accepted leadership roles in the 1850’s and 1960’s? I couldn’t but I certainly wish I could to the degree of which the story needed to be told.

In preparation for this post, I was inspired by author Chimamanda Adiche and her TED Talk found here, transcript here. She is right, Chinua Achebe’s reference to “a balance of stories” rings true. Until today, I didn’t identify Palestinians with poetry and I am ashamed. What other dangers do I have rolling around in my head? What single stories have I created? As Chimamanda put it so elegantly, “The single story creates stereotypes and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete.” I’m certain my Iraqi brother had thoughts that day. Perhaps he didn’t but it couldn’t have hurt to ask him to start from the beginning.

*CIA Interrogator: At Time of U.S. Invasion, Saddam Hussein Was Focused on Writing Novel, Not WMDs

This post is part of Blogging Abroad’s 2017 New Years Blog Challenge, week two:The Danger of a Single Story. http://bloggingabroad.org/2017-challenge

Our World is A Home of Hosts (Pt. 2)

Cont. from previous post…

Connection

I still keep in touch with most of my Couchsurfing hosts. The connections I’ve made are indispensable.

Host Mom and I (Milestii Mici, Moldova)

How is it that when I finally left Moldova both my host mom and I came to tears? It’s as if we’d known each other forever and certainly we’ve not. Two years of Peace Corps transitions, a few personal milestones, a couple of safety scares, long mese (dinners) and countless language blunders during hours of harvesting brought on these tears and not just any tears, crocodile tears!

I remember sitting in a cold hostel in Naples, Italy. I speak no Italian. I was just pick-pocketed and this woman from China spoke very little English. She was my host. Still, she commiserated with my sadness and loss, my angst. Somehow, she gathered my need for peace and a sense of safety. I am amazed by how close one can feel to a complete stranger. We are here to fill a purpose and deep down, I think we all know this. How we choose to fulfill that purpose is up to us and with whom we share our purpose, is also up to us.

 

A group of Americans I’d just met at a Budapest Bar, “Sarah” to my right was celebrating her 21st Birthday (Eszter, my host, is taking the pic)

Fresh cut by a rather handsome Hungarian I’d just met (Ciao Budapest Hostel)

My host siblings and I on the stoop of my casa mică, (small house), Cruglic, Moldova

 

Interdependency

I’ve become dependent upon my hosts. And they in a way have become dependent on those they host. Most hosts would say they open their homes to people so that they might see the world through the eyes of others. In essence, they are able to experience the world directly in their homes. I liken this interdependency to that of preparing a soufflé I made with my most recent host. Little did she know I’d share her recipe with my family and friends upon my return to the States. The steps with which she splintered chocolate and I whipped heavy cream into firms peaks was an effort of teamwork and an effort I shall long cherish, as creating the chocolate soufflé is not an easy task completed solo. This recipe is sure to be in our family for years and in some way, so will Irina.

Chocolate souffle, auspices of Irina (Brașov, Romania)

 

 

Common Thread

What do all my exchanges have in common? They share a practice in oneness, sameness, a desire to connect and be plugged in, an opportunity to leave a legacy that is shared and perhaps carried with a single person wherever life takes them. I believe it true that we become more aware of others and their concerns as we acquaint ourselves with them. When we begin to have these conversations and commiserate with the people we come into contact with, world issues are no longer local or regional, they indeed become our personal problems. We have no choice but to identify with their struggle even on the most basic of levels. Perhaps Couchsurfing is not for everyone. One thing is for certain, we are all global citizens, waiting to host the next opportunity to be connected with the world.

 

This post is part of Blogging Abroad’s 2017 New Years Blog Challenge, week one: Global Citizenship.  http://bloggingabroad.org/2017-challenge  

---

 

Our World is A Home of Hosts (Pt. 1)

Sharing Spaces

When I initially signed on to be a Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV) I had no idea how my world would change. I’d traveled abroad prior to my service. The wonders of the world became fascinating while on my first mission trip…in medical school. Even throughout rotations, I found myself bunking with friends in their respective cities. My world (pardon the pun) has since evolved, sprouting from a simple need for a place to sleep. Networks such as Couchsurfing.com, BlaBlacar.com and Airbnb.com have increased my horizons tenfold. Although reticent to try BlaBlacar, Hostelworld, Couchsurfing and Airbnb make the world accessible to myself and other travelers.  The world has become a bit smaller too.  In essence, cities are cities and people are people having joys and pains, work and compelling life adjustments. In my experience with sharing spaces, I’m amazed by how similar humans exist in that space.  When the dust settles, our needs, wants and aspirations are the same, to love and to be loved, to contribute in some way, to be seen and heard, appreciated and respected.

Me and my new Bulgarian colleagues (Sinaia, Romania)

Wine and gelatto amongst friends (Monica)

Under the flag at “OXI Day”

L to R: Me, Monica (host) and Rochelle (RPCV) atop Cluj-Napoca

Irina, Cristina and myself sharing ice cream in freezing cold temps (Brașov, Romania)

Katy and I at “OXI Day”

“OXI Day” (Syntagma Square, Athens, Greece)

Diana and I (Lisbon, Portugal)

Planting trees in Orhei (Alex and Mihaela are to my left)

Rock near Plage du Prado with Nicole (Marseille, France)

 

Needing A Place to Call Home

In my original plan for this post, I was heading in a different direction. But then I began to reflect on the climb to the top of a rock in the middle of the Mediterranean (near Plage du Prado). Nicole called it “the end of the earth” and for me it was. I’d worn sandals and still managed to climb that day but I wouldn’t have gotten through the task if it weren’t for her. The first time I went to Madrid (also my first experience with Couchsurfing.com), a handsome Brazilian (being hosted as well), had already sold me on returning to the city. I returned and shared a slice of carrot cake with Martola, an English teacher. As if we were sisters, Irina (Romania) and I stayed up chatting for hours, never having met in life.  Not to mention the glass shopping I helped Diana and her boyfriend Sam do, as he is to open a croissant shop in Lisbon. I’ve spilled my guts to people I hardly know. I’ve shared meals and long nights of music. A completely different perspective from that of Alex and Mihaela, (two young women I met in Moldova), Eszter’s position on the topic of race, enlightens me. She’s a bartender from Budapest, lives life by the seat of her pants and I love it. There is such mystery in knowing that the relationship spawned from a mere 3 days in Cluj-Napoca with yet another woman I’d never met, (we still talk to this day); a friendship of which I’m so proud. She has since moved to Bucharest (Romania) and recently shared that I inspired her to volunteer. All these moments make up one’s existence, my existence.  If not for the time I shouted “OXI!” “OXI!” “OXI!” at a rally outside of Syntagma Square on a warm summer evening, I certainly couldn’t tell you about it.  The music loud, the crowd pumped, I followed in Katy’s footsteps to get as close to the front as possible. White flags flaring oranges, greens and reds hovered over us like blankets. I’m an American but that day I stood with the citizens of Greece. These were my people too, contributing to memory I won’t soon forget.

To be continued…

This post is part of Blogging Abroad’s 2017 New Years Blog Challenge, week one: Global Citizenship.  http://bloggingabroad.org/2017-challenge