An Overview of the Conditions and Situation in Gaza
On Saturday, December 27th an intensive Israeli
airstrike on Hamas targets began in the Gaza
Strip. Now in its seventh day, the massacre has
taken nearly 428 lives and caused almost 2100
injuries. What does this all mean? What’s the deal
with Gaza? What does it look like from where I
am? I’ll try to answer these and other questions in
this newsletter at a basic level, so that the current
news headlines will make a little more sense.
What is Gaza?
Gaza, or the Gaza Strip, is a 139 square mile area
of land nestled between the Mediterranean Sea,
Israel, and Egypt (Wikipedia). Gaza is a part of
the Palestinian Territories, consisting of the West
Bank and Gaza, and the people living in Gaza are
Palestinians.
What is the population of Gaza?
The population of Gaza is 1.4 million. 99% of the
population is Muslim and 1% is Christian
(Wikipedia).
What is the humanitarian situation in Gaza?
For those of you from Southeast Michigan, an
easy way to think of the conditions in Gaza is
taking an area of land equivalent to Ida, Dundee,
and Raisinville Townships and increasing the
population from 16,186 to 1.4 million. Now
imagine that 75% of the people are refugees,
56.8% are living below the poverty line, and
44.6% are unemployed (Palestinian Central
Bureau of Statistics). The borders of Gaza are
controlled by Israel, and since the 2007 Hamas
takeover, Israel has completely closed the borders
on several occasions to all goods, humanitarian
aid, and people. Power plants do not have enough
fuel to keep producing electricity, hospitals are
running out of supplies, and even relief agencies
have struggled getting food assistance into the
territory. These were the conditions before the air
strikes began.
What is Hamas?
Hamas is a militant political party in the
Palestinian Territories. Hamas gained popularity in
Palestine by sponsoring extensive social service
projects. In 2006, Hamas was rightfully won the
general legislative elections acquiring the majority
of the seats in the legislative council of the
Palestinian National Authority. Then, in Gaza in
2007, Hamas seized control from the competing
party, Fatah. In the same year in the West Bank,
members of Fatah ousted elected Hamas members
from the PNA. Hamas is listed as a terrorist
organization by the United States and several other
countries for its use of suicide bombing and
guerilla warfare, and its charter calling for an end
to Israel (Council on Foreign Relations/
Wikipedia).
Why is Israel bombing Gaza?
Growing resentment for Israel due to its policies of
closure on Gaza and the resulting humanitarian
crisis drove Hamas to sporadically launch rockets
into surrounding areas in southern Israel. Once the
Egypt-brokered cease-fire agreement between
Hamas and Israel expired on December 19th,
Hamas stepped up these attacks. While a nuisance
and danger to Israeli property, these projectiles had
not caused any injuries or deaths since two injuries
occurred back in June of 2008. Israel claims that in
order to protect its citizens, a full offensive was
necessary (Aljazeera/Wikipedia).
What’s the situation in Gaza like now?
As I mentioned earlier, today is the seventh day of
attacks on Gaza. The death toll stands at 428 with
the number of injuries topping 2,000. The United
Nations states that the humanitarian situation is on
the brink of catastrophe. A proposal for a ceasefire
suggested by France was turned down. Israel has
massed troops and tanks at the Gaza border,
supposedly preparing for a ground invasion. The
situation is dire, yet the United States refuses to
call for an immediate ceasefire.
Where am I? Am I in danger?
I currently live near Beit Jala in the West Bank. Beit
Jala is 45 miles Northeast of Gaza. In terms of risk
due directly to the fighting in Gaza, there is little.
Because I live in the Palestinian Territories, rockets
and projectiles fired from Hamas in Gaza would not
be directed here, nor could they reach this far.
Israel’s attacks have been concentrated on Hamas
targets in Gaza and will not spread into the West
Bank. Calls for uprising in the West Bank from
various militant factions around the Arab world have
largely gone unanswered. There has been increased
security provided by the Palestinian National
Authority in Bethlehem and by Israeli police in
Jerusalem helping to keep protesters safe and
demonstrations calm. Nevertheless, there are places
here that are unsafe and where conditions are
changing rapidly. With good communication and
increased consciousness of surroundings, I still feel
safe and at home here.
Are the Bishops still coming?
As of today, the 2009 Bishop’s Academy will still be
taking place as planned. While the overall number
has dropped, Bishops from across the United States
and Canada will be arriving on Tuesday, January 6th.
The Bishops will be meeting with representatives and
organizations from both sides of the conflict and
learning about the work of the Evangelical Lutheran
Church in Jordan and the Holy Land.
Other News from December
This month I traveled to Jordan for a week on
retreat with the rest of the Young Adults in
Global Mission team. We hiked in Petra then
went camping in the desert in Wadi Rum. Shortly
after returning to Bethlehem, I flew to Istanbul on
a personal vacation with my boyfriend, Matt.
(Yes, I’m allowed 3 weeks of personal vacation
during my year of service). Christmas in
Bethlehem was a very special time. The
celebrations in Manger Square near the Church of
the Nativity in Bethlehem were well attended, but
the Christmas spirit was most present in the
dinners, gatherings, and carol-singing sessions
with close friends throughout the week. I went to
church Christmas Eve at the Church of the
Reformation in Beit Jala. Rather than a traditional
Christmas Eve service, the children performed a
play about the wise men trying to get to
Bethlehem but were blocked by the wall and
Israeli soldiers. It makes me wonder, how is the
message of Christ being spread beyond the wall
in these days? I’d like to think part of our reason
for being here is to enable the Christians in this
land to continue what they’ve been doing for
2000 years now.
Monday, January 5, 2009
New Slovakia and Hungray Program
Some Exciting news, YAGM has added Hungary to list of Country sites. This will be part of a Slovakia and Hungary Program emphasizing the needs of the Roma-Gypsy population in the Regions.
Here is a full Description:
This program partners with the church and the Roma-Gadje Dialogue Through Service project that provide volunteers the opportunity to build inter-cultural awareness, understanding, sensitivity and solidarity among Roma communities in central Europe. These communities face persecution, forced assimilation, mistrust, fear and banishment from the dominant culture. Through their placements, Gadje (non-Roma) work alongside Roma in local community projects, particularly education, after-school activities, youth work and church-based programs. Volunteers engage in inter-cultural dialog and gain understanding of the social, cultural, political and religious issues affection Roma.
For more info check out
Young Adults in Global Mission
Here is a full Description:
This program partners with the church and the Roma-Gadje Dialogue Through Service project that provide volunteers the opportunity to build inter-cultural awareness, understanding, sensitivity and solidarity among Roma communities in central Europe. These communities face persecution, forced assimilation, mistrust, fear and banishment from the dominant culture. Through their placements, Gadje (non-Roma) work alongside Roma in local community projects, particularly education, after-school activities, youth work and church-based programs. Volunteers engage in inter-cultural dialog and gain understanding of the social, cultural, political and religious issues affection Roma.
For more info check out
Young Adults in Global Mission
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Malaysia added to next year as placement
So,We have exciting news. Malaysia has been added to the list of countries that YAGMs can spend their year. This is an exciting development and we will keep you posted when we have more details. So tell your friends, tell everyone the exciting news!!!
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Sukhamano, state-siders (Issue 7) - Rob in India
And we're back. The "Kerala Exchange" has now become the
"Kerala Quarterly" and, man, have I got an issue for you.
Since I left you last time (in February, yikes) classes were just letting out and the students left for summer break. Life as I'd known it for the past half of a year changed dramatically, but this break from the usual duties also gave me a chance to pursue some big adventures. My March adventures don't fit into this newsletter, so to get that story you're going to have to visit the blog at malayalamartin.blogspot.com. April was spent mostly on the All India Tour; a 28 day rough and tumble romp through the northern regions of India. Those of you paying close attention to the web album have probably already been staring at the photo evidence of that excursion for weeks. From the very day we arrived back in Kerala, until near the end of May I was engaged in camps of various sorts. This extended edition of the "Kerala Quarterly" will take you on a virtual tour of these past two months.
The All India Tour has long been a part of this volunteer program. After seeing one tiny corner of the country for most of the year, it gives us a chance to catch a glimpse of what else is going on in this vastly diverse country and put some perspective on our Kerala home. I'd say that goal was met, and then some. In four weeks we travelled from the southern tip of the continent to the Himalayas. We saw deserts, rice paddies, golden fields of grain and villages cut terraced into the heighest mountain range in the world. Every place we visited was home to one or several languages we didn't even know existed. Yes, there is a difference between South-Central L.A. and Fargo, ND, but the diversity we encountered in our travels made the American melting pot look like an Easy Bake Oven.
The Jodhpur fort was home to many a Mughal monarch, it's the gateway to the Thar Desert and beyond them thar dunes lies Pakistan. This fort may also be home to the one truly satisfying audio tour in existence. If you ever make it out here it's really worth the Rs. 400. The fact that the entire fortress was hewn from solid rock into beautifully intricate designs is nothing short of miraculous. There is just something deeply satisfying about the geometric intricacy of Muslim art. Check out the level of detail around this window…
We spent one day in Jodhpur and then took a night train to Jaisalmer, home of another big ol' fort. The train arrived at 5:30 a.m. and left us unsure about "what next." What happened was this: We were completely overwhelmed by people offering us rooms, travel packages, auto rickshaw rides, and camel excursions. We put on our best, "Get outta my face" faces, but our assaulters had developed some kind of immunity to this, the deadliest weapon in our body language arsenal. Somehow me managed to escape the railway station, but not before one man pulled me down by my backpack to show me his brochure. It looks like we've entered Tourist Hell...
The fort was only a couple of kilometers from the
station, and once the sun came out most of the wild-
eyed salesmen disappeared. The fort by day was actually a very pleasant place- a veritable castle of sand. I probably could have done without this audio tour, but we did meet a lot of interesting people along the way. One lady who owned a handycrafts store, (actually, she was the only female shop owner we met all day), told us this story about the "sustainable" community from which her goods came and to which her proceeds went. The word "sustainable" evokes oohs and ahhs from environmentally concious people the world over, and it was the perfect sales pitch for us. Just before we left she gave us a CD and said, "Take this and you can see what I'm talking about." Later in Delhi we popped the CD into a computer and, what do you know, it appears she was telling us the truth about everything. I think we were all a bit surprised that we found a devoted and honest souvenir seller in Tourist Hell.
Stepping out of our home communities in Kerala into the tourist world of Rajasthan was a bit of a surreal experience. We were used to living in a place where people knew us and shared their lives with us. Suddenly, we jumped into this world where everyone saw us as tourists. That is, of course, logical for them to assume, but we didn't really feel like tourists. We felt like displaced Keralites. Yes, the forts were amazing, but as a group we decided early on that forts weren't our forte. We wanted the rest of our journey to involve less sightseeing and more people seeing.
As we took another night train to Delhi we were excited to see some familiar faces again. Our stay was arranged with a family of Presbyterian missionaries posted in Delhi. We also anticipated meeting with our friend Binu who is studying in Delhi, and is the son of our program coordinator, Thomas John Achen.
When we arrived in Delhi we took a taxi armed only with directions and an address scrawled on a piece of paper. While we've managed to conquer the various transportation systems in Kerala, in this town we were back to squarea one - we didn't even have one word of Hindi between the four of us. We did manage to arrive safely at the Hudson residence, and were warmly greeted by the good Reverend Hudson himself. Without missing a beat he began cooking up some hot noodles for us, mixing some icy drinks and sending us out in shifts for a hot shower. We've haven't had pasta, ice cubes, or hot showers since August 2007! This is something really amazing to us. And that first experience pretty much summed up the level of hospitality that the whole Hudson clan extended to us during our stay.
From the Hudson's house we traveled to the Taj Mahal, of course. We also made several excursions out into the city with the Hudsons as our guides. Along the way we had some incredible meals including, much to my surprise, the absolute best South Korean food I've ever set my teeth into. Though the Hudsons were invaluable in helping us around the city, they also gave us a really unique perspective on our own time in Kerala. Though we've offered one year of our lives in this country, the Hudsons will be here for at least three, and they've already completed stints in Pakistan and South Korea. Suddenly, a year in India as a recent college grads doesn't seem like such a big deal.
From the Smith residence we trekked deeper into the Himalayas
in search of adventure, full body fatigue and snow. We found
all of these things. On our first hike we trekked up a beautiful stone path through green fields and budding rhododendrons. Despite this lush first leg, the snow capped peaks surrounding us stood as a reminder of what lay at the end of our climb.
After a couple of hours of hiking, some mountain-sized clouds began to roll towards us, thundering all the way. The girls figured that getting caught on top of a mountain in a storm is a bad thing, but I reasoned that if we're going to die on a mountain we might as well die at the top. So the girls found shelter and I ran on ahead. At the top there stood an old, stone temple to Shiva, a lot of snow, and dozens of dreadlocked, face-pierced hippies. I took a couple of snaps (of the buildings, not the hippies) and quickly headed back down to join the girls. Scarcely did we begin our decent before the heavens unleashed a torrent of heavy hale balls. Turns out the girls were right afterall. So we found some shelter and waited out the storm, no worse for the wear, but now we can tell our grandchildren that we were trapped on a Himalayan mountaintop in an ice storm.
Our next stop, Daramshala, was selected so we could get a taste of Tibetan culture, and of course, food. We got much more than we planned for. Well, initially we got exactly what we had hoped for – cooking lessons. We traveled through a long corridor of back streets to arrive at Sanje's kitchen. As we prepared our Mo-Mo Soup we asked some questions about Sanje's journey from Tibet to India. It turns out he had quite an incredible journey, and for travelers willing to listen, you get a lot more than some cooking tips out of Sanje. He told us about his midnight escape from his village, he didn't tell anyone or leave a note for fear of endangering his loved ones. He made the four week journey into Nepal on foot and then eventually moved to Daramshala to work as a cook. It was eight years before he made his first phone call back home. We've been hearing about Chinese atrocities in Tibet for years, but this first hand account gave us a face to match with the issue.
As we exited the maze of buildings back onto the main street we were surprised to see a flood of monks carrying banners denouncing Chinese occupation of Tibet. The procession went on and on. After the monks came the city people, then the school kids, and then a smattering of travelers from all around the world also joined in the march.
We just happened to be at the seat of Tibetan government as the Olympic torch passed through Delhi, and this protest was staged to coincide with the relay. This display of raw emotion made quite an impression on all of us, especially after our eye-opening conversation with Sanje. We felt humbled to be at the epicenter of this Olympic-sized issue.
Summer Camp - Kerala Style
T he very day after returning to Kerala I was invited to help
lead a three week summer camp for kids aged 6-16. Actually,
I was introduced to the camp as the "dance teacher." I tried to explain that the only dance experience I had was with tap dance, and I didn't think attempting tap with over a hundred kids simultaneously was a good idea, but the organizer reassured me, "It's ok, we're sure you'll come up with something good."
Even now I'm not quite sure how it happened, but I managed to put together some steps for a punk rock version of "I Fought the Law." The kids young and old seemed to really like it. I guess, since the typical Malayalam film does depict random dancing as a fact of life, they were an accepting audience. One of the young girls came up to me after I taught them the dance, gave me a big smile and said, "Great moves!" Hey, if she's happy then I can be satisifed with my utter dance awkwardness.
During these three weeks I also served as song leader, magician, jungle gym and resident expert in paper airplane folding. I worked at a summer camp for three summers in America, but I'd completely forgotten what an incredible joy it is to get to know these small people. Though the differences between this culture and American culture are innumerable, these Keralite kids had just as much energy, mischief, and as many questions as the American variety.
The day after that camp ended, I awoke with a feeling of disappointment - there would be no more camp today. Luckily for me, a new camp began the very next day. This camp was for older students – college kids. The program was organized by the Student Christian Movement, though students from any religion were encouraged to attend. Entitled, "Student Empowerment and Communicative English" the camp sought students who came from the poorest sections of society namely Dalits. Though education is freely available in Kerala, all things aren't exactly equal. As it has become necessary to have some skill in the English language to succeed in most desirable occupations, primary educations that focus on English training have also come into vogue. The families with lots of money can send their kids to schools that offer special language training, or even an international school. The students from the poorest section of society, however, cannot afford these special services.
Over the next two weeks we met and bonded with the students at this program. We were asked to lead the grammar portions of the program, and we did do that, but we also focused a lot of our energies on building up the confidence of these students to engage their language skills, no matter what their proficiency.
The program turned out to be very rewarding, not only because we got to meet so many amazing students, but also because of the change we saw in them in just two weeks' time. Monday through Wednesday was like pulling teeth, especially during the group participation portions of our lessons, but by the following Monday these students felt comfortable communicating with us no matter how proficient or limited their vocabularies. We eased some of the tension by speaking in a form of hybridized "Manglish" when necessary.
On the final day we broke the students into four groups and gave them a scavenger hunt to complete. Once they had collected the items we instructed them to make a skit incorporating all of the things they found. The results were absolutely astounding. One group presented a play detailing the struggle of the tribal populations of Kerala to cope with the pressures of modernization. Another group gave us an incredibly nuanced portrayal of some of the negative effects of globalization. I was utterly blown away; these were the same students who refused to speak at all only two weeks before.
That's it for now, congratulations on making it through, and thank you for coming with me on my journey thus far. I think my next newsletter will be my last from India, though I'll give you one follow up issue after my return. Now that students have returned I'm busy again with classes, visits to Kanam and a couple of side music projects as well. For those of you familiar with the Holden Evening Prayer, it's coming to Kerala with a bluegrass twist. Get ready.
"Kerala Quarterly" and, man, have I got an issue for you.
Since I left you last time (in February, yikes) classes were just letting out and the students left for summer break. Life as I'd known it for the past half of a year changed dramatically, but this break from the usual duties also gave me a chance to pursue some big adventures. My March adventures don't fit into this newsletter, so to get that story you're going to have to visit the blog at malayalamartin.blogspot.com. April was spent mostly on the All India Tour; a 28 day rough and tumble romp through the northern regions of India. Those of you paying close attention to the web album have probably already been staring at the photo evidence of that excursion for weeks. From the very day we arrived back in Kerala, until near the end of May I was engaged in camps of various sorts. This extended edition of the "Kerala Quarterly" will take you on a virtual tour of these past two months.
The All India Tour has long been a part of this volunteer program. After seeing one tiny corner of the country for most of the year, it gives us a chance to catch a glimpse of what else is going on in this vastly diverse country and put some perspective on our Kerala home. I'd say that goal was met, and then some. In four weeks we travelled from the southern tip of the continent to the Himalayas. We saw deserts, rice paddies, golden fields of grain and villages cut terraced into the heighest mountain range in the world. Every place we visited was home to one or several languages we didn't even know existed. Yes, there is a difference between South-Central L.A. and Fargo, ND, but the diversity we encountered in our travels made the American melting pot look like an Easy Bake Oven.
The Jodhpur fort was home to many a Mughal monarch, it's the gateway to the Thar Desert and beyond them thar dunes lies Pakistan. This fort may also be home to the one truly satisfying audio tour in existence. If you ever make it out here it's really worth the Rs. 400. The fact that the entire fortress was hewn from solid rock into beautifully intricate designs is nothing short of miraculous. There is just something deeply satisfying about the geometric intricacy of Muslim art. Check out the level of detail around this window…
We spent one day in Jodhpur and then took a night train to Jaisalmer, home of another big ol' fort. The train arrived at 5:30 a.m. and left us unsure about "what next." What happened was this: We were completely overwhelmed by people offering us rooms, travel packages, auto rickshaw rides, and camel excursions. We put on our best, "Get outta my face" faces, but our assaulters had developed some kind of immunity to this, the deadliest weapon in our body language arsenal. Somehow me managed to escape the railway station, but not before one man pulled me down by my backpack to show me his brochure. It looks like we've entered Tourist Hell...
The fort was only a couple of kilometers from the
station, and once the sun came out most of the wild-
eyed salesmen disappeared. The fort by day was actually a very pleasant place- a veritable castle of sand. I probably could have done without this audio tour, but we did meet a lot of interesting people along the way. One lady who owned a handycrafts store, (actually, she was the only female shop owner we met all day), told us this story about the "sustainable" community from which her goods came and to which her proceeds went. The word "sustainable" evokes oohs and ahhs from environmentally concious people the world over, and it was the perfect sales pitch for us. Just before we left she gave us a CD and said, "Take this and you can see what I'm talking about." Later in Delhi we popped the CD into a computer and, what do you know, it appears she was telling us the truth about everything. I think we were all a bit surprised that we found a devoted and honest souvenir seller in Tourist Hell.
Stepping out of our home communities in Kerala into the tourist world of Rajasthan was a bit of a surreal experience. We were used to living in a place where people knew us and shared their lives with us. Suddenly, we jumped into this world where everyone saw us as tourists. That is, of course, logical for them to assume, but we didn't really feel like tourists. We felt like displaced Keralites. Yes, the forts were amazing, but as a group we decided early on that forts weren't our forte. We wanted the rest of our journey to involve less sightseeing and more people seeing.
As we took another night train to Delhi we were excited to see some familiar faces again. Our stay was arranged with a family of Presbyterian missionaries posted in Delhi. We also anticipated meeting with our friend Binu who is studying in Delhi, and is the son of our program coordinator, Thomas John Achen.
When we arrived in Delhi we took a taxi armed only with directions and an address scrawled on a piece of paper. While we've managed to conquer the various transportation systems in Kerala, in this town we were back to squarea one - we didn't even have one word of Hindi between the four of us. We did manage to arrive safely at the Hudson residence, and were warmly greeted by the good Reverend Hudson himself. Without missing a beat he began cooking up some hot noodles for us, mixing some icy drinks and sending us out in shifts for a hot shower. We've haven't had pasta, ice cubes, or hot showers since August 2007! This is something really amazing to us. And that first experience pretty much summed up the level of hospitality that the whole Hudson clan extended to us during our stay.
From the Hudson's house we traveled to the Taj Mahal, of course. We also made several excursions out into the city with the Hudsons as our guides. Along the way we had some incredible meals including, much to my surprise, the absolute best South Korean food I've ever set my teeth into. Though the Hudsons were invaluable in helping us around the city, they also gave us a really unique perspective on our own time in Kerala. Though we've offered one year of our lives in this country, the Hudsons will be here for at least three, and they've already completed stints in Pakistan and South Korea. Suddenly, a year in India as a recent college grads doesn't seem like such a big deal.
From the Smith residence we trekked deeper into the Himalayas
in search of adventure, full body fatigue and snow. We found
all of these things. On our first hike we trekked up a beautiful stone path through green fields and budding rhododendrons. Despite this lush first leg, the snow capped peaks surrounding us stood as a reminder of what lay at the end of our climb.
After a couple of hours of hiking, some mountain-sized clouds began to roll towards us, thundering all the way. The girls figured that getting caught on top of a mountain in a storm is a bad thing, but I reasoned that if we're going to die on a mountain we might as well die at the top. So the girls found shelter and I ran on ahead. At the top there stood an old, stone temple to Shiva, a lot of snow, and dozens of dreadlocked, face-pierced hippies. I took a couple of snaps (of the buildings, not the hippies) and quickly headed back down to join the girls. Scarcely did we begin our decent before the heavens unleashed a torrent of heavy hale balls. Turns out the girls were right afterall. So we found some shelter and waited out the storm, no worse for the wear, but now we can tell our grandchildren that we were trapped on a Himalayan mountaintop in an ice storm.
Our next stop, Daramshala, was selected so we could get a taste of Tibetan culture, and of course, food. We got much more than we planned for. Well, initially we got exactly what we had hoped for – cooking lessons. We traveled through a long corridor of back streets to arrive at Sanje's kitchen. As we prepared our Mo-Mo Soup we asked some questions about Sanje's journey from Tibet to India. It turns out he had quite an incredible journey, and for travelers willing to listen, you get a lot more than some cooking tips out of Sanje. He told us about his midnight escape from his village, he didn't tell anyone or leave a note for fear of endangering his loved ones. He made the four week journey into Nepal on foot and then eventually moved to Daramshala to work as a cook. It was eight years before he made his first phone call back home. We've been hearing about Chinese atrocities in Tibet for years, but this first hand account gave us a face to match with the issue.
As we exited the maze of buildings back onto the main street we were surprised to see a flood of monks carrying banners denouncing Chinese occupation of Tibet. The procession went on and on. After the monks came the city people, then the school kids, and then a smattering of travelers from all around the world also joined in the march.
We just happened to be at the seat of Tibetan government as the Olympic torch passed through Delhi, and this protest was staged to coincide with the relay. This display of raw emotion made quite an impression on all of us, especially after our eye-opening conversation with Sanje. We felt humbled to be at the epicenter of this Olympic-sized issue.
Summer Camp - Kerala Style
T he very day after returning to Kerala I was invited to help
lead a three week summer camp for kids aged 6-16. Actually,
I was introduced to the camp as the "dance teacher." I tried to explain that the only dance experience I had was with tap dance, and I didn't think attempting tap with over a hundred kids simultaneously was a good idea, but the organizer reassured me, "It's ok, we're sure you'll come up with something good."
Even now I'm not quite sure how it happened, but I managed to put together some steps for a punk rock version of "I Fought the Law." The kids young and old seemed to really like it. I guess, since the typical Malayalam film does depict random dancing as a fact of life, they were an accepting audience. One of the young girls came up to me after I taught them the dance, gave me a big smile and said, "Great moves!" Hey, if she's happy then I can be satisifed with my utter dance awkwardness.
During these three weeks I also served as song leader, magician, jungle gym and resident expert in paper airplane folding. I worked at a summer camp for three summers in America, but I'd completely forgotten what an incredible joy it is to get to know these small people. Though the differences between this culture and American culture are innumerable, these Keralite kids had just as much energy, mischief, and as many questions as the American variety.
The day after that camp ended, I awoke with a feeling of disappointment - there would be no more camp today. Luckily for me, a new camp began the very next day. This camp was for older students – college kids. The program was organized by the Student Christian Movement, though students from any religion were encouraged to attend. Entitled, "Student Empowerment and Communicative English" the camp sought students who came from the poorest sections of society namely Dalits. Though education is freely available in Kerala, all things aren't exactly equal. As it has become necessary to have some skill in the English language to succeed in most desirable occupations, primary educations that focus on English training have also come into vogue. The families with lots of money can send their kids to schools that offer special language training, or even an international school. The students from the poorest section of society, however, cannot afford these special services.
Over the next two weeks we met and bonded with the students at this program. We were asked to lead the grammar portions of the program, and we did do that, but we also focused a lot of our energies on building up the confidence of these students to engage their language skills, no matter what their proficiency.
The program turned out to be very rewarding, not only because we got to meet so many amazing students, but also because of the change we saw in them in just two weeks' time. Monday through Wednesday was like pulling teeth, especially during the group participation portions of our lessons, but by the following Monday these students felt comfortable communicating with us no matter how proficient or limited their vocabularies. We eased some of the tension by speaking in a form of hybridized "Manglish" when necessary.
On the final day we broke the students into four groups and gave them a scavenger hunt to complete. Once they had collected the items we instructed them to make a skit incorporating all of the things they found. The results were absolutely astounding. One group presented a play detailing the struggle of the tribal populations of Kerala to cope with the pressures of modernization. Another group gave us an incredibly nuanced portrayal of some of the negative effects of globalization. I was utterly blown away; these were the same students who refused to speak at all only two weeks before.
That's it for now, congratulations on making it through, and thank you for coming with me on my journey thus far. I think my next newsletter will be my last from India, though I'll give you one follow up issue after my return. Now that students have returned I'm busy again with classes, visits to Kanam and a couple of side music projects as well. For those of you familiar with the Holden Evening Prayer, it's coming to Kerala with a bluegrass twist. Get ready.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
May and a half newsletter - Katie in Mexico
“The End is Coming”
Cuernavaca, Mexico Newsletter
May 2008
By Katie
No denying it, time is flying and bringing me closer and closer to the end of my year in Mexico. With that realization comes a mix of emotions that seems to ebb and flow several times each day from one extreme to the other. I have a difficult time articulating this current state of confusion and contradiction and constant change; but nonetheless, as many friends, coworkers, and family members start asking me about what “the end” feels like to me, I will take a stab at the impossible and try to make sense of the muddled emotions swimming through my brain. As a visual and graphic learner myself, I present to you a visual metaphor by using a familiar Taoist symbol: the yin yang.
The yin-yang represents the opposing duality of two energies, each very distinct but also interconnected. The two sides compliment and transition into the other and the whole circle emerges. One energy cannot exist without the other. July 9th. One day. “The end.” Two very different and separate worlds of emotions and realities, yet one side does not exist without the other. Together, “leaving Mexico” and “returning home” create the whole, “the end.”
Leaving Mexico
I moved to Cuernavaca last August and have spent the past ten months or so creating a life here. I was welcomed into a Mexican host family, a wonderful one at that, and I continue to develop and evolve in our relationships. I stepped foot into very challenging and rewarding job sites. Both jobs pushed me to struggle through my misguided attempts to serve a community that I didn’t understand; confront my inadequacies; come to terms with the fact that I can’t change the community (or the world); adapt to work within and be a part of those communities; and to find joy and love in accepting the communities as they are. Meanwhile, I formed silly friendships with my coworkers. I grew to crave the moments of children’s unconditional love, wonder, and innocence that they share with me daily through a hug or smile or small success in class. I made friends with other gringos and Mexicans and find so much pleasure in our opportunities to meet and share an afternoon or an evening together. I walked this journey with four other volunteers and my country coordinator who have all served as my rocks, my breaths of fresh air, the guiding light at my feet, and the tides that pull me to new realizations and perspectives. I learned the intricate map of shortcuts and scenic routes of southern Cuernavaca; the good stands in the market; my favorite hideouts downtown to get a (cheap) coffee or beer or bite to eat; and numerous ways to blend in like a local despite my blonde hair and light eyes.
Not all of it has been bliss and I have struggled to find peace in the cross-cultural conflicts of day-to-day life in Mexico. I had an unbelievably difficult time adjusting to my work sites and letting go of my US-American expectations of what “education” should look like. Although I am more flexible with the inconsistencies at my work sites, my work still continues to raise my blood pressure and leave me exhausted at the end of the day. On some days I love the slow pace of not having plans and a “what’s the rush?” attitude… other days that mentality tests my US-American patience and leaves me irritated and thinking to myself “there is so much else I could be doing right now.” I still despise machismo and feel like I am on the verge of clinical insanity caused by excessive catcalls, unwanted attention, and objectification. I am looking forward to not having to question the “safety” of food at restaurants or street-stands, or having to disinfect almost every piece of produce at home with iodine drops. I’m looking forward to not getting some sort of digestive illness and inevitably wind up stupefied, not knowing what caused it or how to treat it. Leaving Mexico will be more heartbreaking than anything… but I would be a liar if I didn’t say that it might also be a slight relief.
Soon I will leave this place with never-fading summer warmth; flowers continually in bloom; loud traffic and stifling exhaust; bustling markets of noisy vendors, fresh vegetables, fruits and meats; a pace that slows and morphs for any unexpected visitor or invitation; and simple living and simple pleasures. Soon I will say goodbye to the kids who hugged me, played with me, and pulled me through the dark days. Soon I will say goodbye to the volunteers who understand this year on a level that I can never fully express to my friends and family back home. Soon I will say goodbye to Marce, my confidant, my nurse, my friend, my Mexican mother and loyal caretaker.
Denial: I’m knee-deep in it… no, better yet, I’m luxuriously bathing in it. I am starting to slowly ponder how “leaving” will affect me, but I will openly admit that my thoughts are almost completely wrapped up in enjoying my last weeks and the daydreams of returning to the things I’ve missed from home. Time is moving quickly now and no amount of mental or emotional preparation will save me from some tears, heartache, and the occasional longing to stay in Mexico. Soon I will confront the reality of saying goodbye, boarding a bus to the airport, and spending five hours in flight that will take me from one side of the yin yang to the other.
Returning Home
To be completely honest, I’ve been looking forward to my return home ever since the beginning of my time in Mexico. Even during the most marvelous and joyful days in Mexico, I have still felt ties to the pieces of home that are so much a part of me. I have always looked forward with excitement and anticipation for the reunification with those things. I lack the words to describe how soul-lifting it will be to see my family and friends; how grounding it will be to feel my feet in the grass at my parents’ home or in the sand by the lake; how encouraging and reassuring it will be talk with those of you who have been following my journey (for which I am eternally grateful); how centering it will be to return Madison and spend a sunny afternoon on the Terrace with friends; how energizing it will be to go for scenic runs, bike rides or swims; and how spiritually enriching it will be to walk into Bethany Lutheran where I know the faces, where I know the hymns, and where I can always find a piece of myself and my faith.
In almost every way, I am deeply and genuinely excited to return home. That being said, I also have to recognize the difficulties awaiting me. Coming home might be a very isolating experience as I haphazardly navigate my way through reverse culture shock. I fear my own inability to relate to US-American culture; I fear my inability to relate to others; I fear others’ inability to relate to me; I fear my inability to articulate what this year really means to me. I fear the confrontation with the pieces of US-American culture that run counter to my post-Mexico self (some which that never felt right to me before; others will be new to me after this experience).
As I re-transition into the United States, I will attempt to find a way to build a grounded, healthy, and soul-satisfying life in which my Mexican self can breathe and grow within my US-American environment. This is my greatest aspiration for my future and leaves me wondering what that obstacle-ridden journey will look like. What decisions can I make that honor and acknowledge how this year has changed me? How can I share with others my Mexican experience and new perspectives with grace? How can I find an open and spiritually-honest lifestyle that finds a balance between my Mexican self and my US-American self? I certainly have hopes for certain Mexican lessons and philosophies I want to bring home, but keeping them in practice will be challenging when so many of them do not easily fit into US-American way of living. Unfortunately, in this world we cannot always cherry-pick from our favorite places, foods and flavors, holidays and traditions, social interactions, and mentality (of ourselves and others) and surround ourselves only with the things that make our souls sing and rejoice. Life is sometimes not what we hope it will be. I cannot wave a magic wand and change certain parts of US-American culture to fit the measure and rhythm of my post-Mexican self. Nor would I want to change it. But I can hope, pray, and attempt to maintain those pieces of my post-Mexican self that bring me life and joy.
This hope of mine reminds me of the book I am currently reading, Plan B: Further thoughts on faith by Anne Lamott. In one chapter she references a man named A.J. Muste who stood in front of the White House during the Vietnam War with a candle every night. A reporter once asked him if he believed that standing with a candle would actually change the government’s policies. He replied, “I don’t do it to change the country, I do it so the country won’t change me.” Oooo, I like that. Let’s see that one again: “I don’t do it to change the country, I do it so the country won’t change me.”
I may not hold candles at night, but I might march or protest for immigration reform. I might spend time during the summer volunteering in the desert with No More Deaths (No Más Muertes). I might pride myself on making handmade tortillas and savor the Mexican flavors I can recreate at home. I might throw my To-Do list out the window and change plans to make time for an unexpected call from a friend or family member – as my Mexican brothers and sisters teach me, sometimes our time is the greatest gift we can give. After beginning to consider some of the lifestyle choices that I can make, I hope that I have the strength and determination to firmly grasp onto the choices that allow me to put my feet on the path that I preach. And I won’t do it to change the country (or my friends, or family, or neighbors); I’ll do it so the country won’t change me.
Conclusion
Just like the yin-yang, I am currently feeling an opposition and a duality between “leaving Mexico” and “returning home.” Each side is distinct and each carries distinct fears, expectations and hopes. At the same time, I cannot have one without the other. It will be a difficult transition for me, probably in more ways that I can begin to imagine; nonetheless, I am also greatly looking forward to seeing you all on the flip side of the yin-yang come July.
Photos: http://picasaweb.google.com/klgavle
Blog: http://klgavlemexico.blogspot.com/
Cuernavaca, Mexico Newsletter
May 2008
By Katie
No denying it, time is flying and bringing me closer and closer to the end of my year in Mexico. With that realization comes a mix of emotions that seems to ebb and flow several times each day from one extreme to the other. I have a difficult time articulating this current state of confusion and contradiction and constant change; but nonetheless, as many friends, coworkers, and family members start asking me about what “the end” feels like to me, I will take a stab at the impossible and try to make sense of the muddled emotions swimming through my brain. As a visual and graphic learner myself, I present to you a visual metaphor by using a familiar Taoist symbol: the yin yang.
The yin-yang represents the opposing duality of two energies, each very distinct but also interconnected. The two sides compliment and transition into the other and the whole circle emerges. One energy cannot exist without the other. July 9th. One day. “The end.” Two very different and separate worlds of emotions and realities, yet one side does not exist without the other. Together, “leaving Mexico” and “returning home” create the whole, “the end.”
Leaving Mexico
I moved to Cuernavaca last August and have spent the past ten months or so creating a life here. I was welcomed into a Mexican host family, a wonderful one at that, and I continue to develop and evolve in our relationships. I stepped foot into very challenging and rewarding job sites. Both jobs pushed me to struggle through my misguided attempts to serve a community that I didn’t understand; confront my inadequacies; come to terms with the fact that I can’t change the community (or the world); adapt to work within and be a part of those communities; and to find joy and love in accepting the communities as they are. Meanwhile, I formed silly friendships with my coworkers. I grew to crave the moments of children’s unconditional love, wonder, and innocence that they share with me daily through a hug or smile or small success in class. I made friends with other gringos and Mexicans and find so much pleasure in our opportunities to meet and share an afternoon or an evening together. I walked this journey with four other volunteers and my country coordinator who have all served as my rocks, my breaths of fresh air, the guiding light at my feet, and the tides that pull me to new realizations and perspectives. I learned the intricate map of shortcuts and scenic routes of southern Cuernavaca; the good stands in the market; my favorite hideouts downtown to get a (cheap) coffee or beer or bite to eat; and numerous ways to blend in like a local despite my blonde hair and light eyes.
Not all of it has been bliss and I have struggled to find peace in the cross-cultural conflicts of day-to-day life in Mexico. I had an unbelievably difficult time adjusting to my work sites and letting go of my US-American expectations of what “education” should look like. Although I am more flexible with the inconsistencies at my work sites, my work still continues to raise my blood pressure and leave me exhausted at the end of the day. On some days I love the slow pace of not having plans and a “what’s the rush?” attitude… other days that mentality tests my US-American patience and leaves me irritated and thinking to myself “there is so much else I could be doing right now.” I still despise machismo and feel like I am on the verge of clinical insanity caused by excessive catcalls, unwanted attention, and objectification. I am looking forward to not having to question the “safety” of food at restaurants or street-stands, or having to disinfect almost every piece of produce at home with iodine drops. I’m looking forward to not getting some sort of digestive illness and inevitably wind up stupefied, not knowing what caused it or how to treat it. Leaving Mexico will be more heartbreaking than anything… but I would be a liar if I didn’t say that it might also be a slight relief.
Soon I will leave this place with never-fading summer warmth; flowers continually in bloom; loud traffic and stifling exhaust; bustling markets of noisy vendors, fresh vegetables, fruits and meats; a pace that slows and morphs for any unexpected visitor or invitation; and simple living and simple pleasures. Soon I will say goodbye to the kids who hugged me, played with me, and pulled me through the dark days. Soon I will say goodbye to the volunteers who understand this year on a level that I can never fully express to my friends and family back home. Soon I will say goodbye to Marce, my confidant, my nurse, my friend, my Mexican mother and loyal caretaker.
Denial: I’m knee-deep in it… no, better yet, I’m luxuriously bathing in it. I am starting to slowly ponder how “leaving” will affect me, but I will openly admit that my thoughts are almost completely wrapped up in enjoying my last weeks and the daydreams of returning to the things I’ve missed from home. Time is moving quickly now and no amount of mental or emotional preparation will save me from some tears, heartache, and the occasional longing to stay in Mexico. Soon I will confront the reality of saying goodbye, boarding a bus to the airport, and spending five hours in flight that will take me from one side of the yin yang to the other.
Returning Home
To be completely honest, I’ve been looking forward to my return home ever since the beginning of my time in Mexico. Even during the most marvelous and joyful days in Mexico, I have still felt ties to the pieces of home that are so much a part of me. I have always looked forward with excitement and anticipation for the reunification with those things. I lack the words to describe how soul-lifting it will be to see my family and friends; how grounding it will be to feel my feet in the grass at my parents’ home or in the sand by the lake; how encouraging and reassuring it will be talk with those of you who have been following my journey (for which I am eternally grateful); how centering it will be to return Madison and spend a sunny afternoon on the Terrace with friends; how energizing it will be to go for scenic runs, bike rides or swims; and how spiritually enriching it will be to walk into Bethany Lutheran where I know the faces, where I know the hymns, and where I can always find a piece of myself and my faith.
In almost every way, I am deeply and genuinely excited to return home. That being said, I also have to recognize the difficulties awaiting me. Coming home might be a very isolating experience as I haphazardly navigate my way through reverse culture shock. I fear my own inability to relate to US-American culture; I fear my inability to relate to others; I fear others’ inability to relate to me; I fear my inability to articulate what this year really means to me. I fear the confrontation with the pieces of US-American culture that run counter to my post-Mexico self (some which that never felt right to me before; others will be new to me after this experience).
As I re-transition into the United States, I will attempt to find a way to build a grounded, healthy, and soul-satisfying life in which my Mexican self can breathe and grow within my US-American environment. This is my greatest aspiration for my future and leaves me wondering what that obstacle-ridden journey will look like. What decisions can I make that honor and acknowledge how this year has changed me? How can I share with others my Mexican experience and new perspectives with grace? How can I find an open and spiritually-honest lifestyle that finds a balance between my Mexican self and my US-American self? I certainly have hopes for certain Mexican lessons and philosophies I want to bring home, but keeping them in practice will be challenging when so many of them do not easily fit into US-American way of living. Unfortunately, in this world we cannot always cherry-pick from our favorite places, foods and flavors, holidays and traditions, social interactions, and mentality (of ourselves and others) and surround ourselves only with the things that make our souls sing and rejoice. Life is sometimes not what we hope it will be. I cannot wave a magic wand and change certain parts of US-American culture to fit the measure and rhythm of my post-Mexican self. Nor would I want to change it. But I can hope, pray, and attempt to maintain those pieces of my post-Mexican self that bring me life and joy.
This hope of mine reminds me of the book I am currently reading, Plan B: Further thoughts on faith by Anne Lamott. In one chapter she references a man named A.J. Muste who stood in front of the White House during the Vietnam War with a candle every night. A reporter once asked him if he believed that standing with a candle would actually change the government’s policies. He replied, “I don’t do it to change the country, I do it so the country won’t change me.” Oooo, I like that. Let’s see that one again: “I don’t do it to change the country, I do it so the country won’t change me.”
I may not hold candles at night, but I might march or protest for immigration reform. I might spend time during the summer volunteering in the desert with No More Deaths (No Más Muertes). I might pride myself on making handmade tortillas and savor the Mexican flavors I can recreate at home. I might throw my To-Do list out the window and change plans to make time for an unexpected call from a friend or family member – as my Mexican brothers and sisters teach me, sometimes our time is the greatest gift we can give. After beginning to consider some of the lifestyle choices that I can make, I hope that I have the strength and determination to firmly grasp onto the choices that allow me to put my feet on the path that I preach. And I won’t do it to change the country (or my friends, or family, or neighbors); I’ll do it so the country won’t change me.
Conclusion
Just like the yin-yang, I am currently feeling an opposition and a duality between “leaving Mexico” and “returning home.” Each side is distinct and each carries distinct fears, expectations and hopes. At the same time, I cannot have one without the other. It will be a difficult transition for me, probably in more ways that I can begin to imagine; nonetheless, I am also greatly looking forward to seeing you all on the flip side of the yin-yang come July.
Photos: http://picasaweb.google.com/klgavle
Blog: http://klgavlemexico.blogspot.com/
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
