The Revolution Inside

The Luxury of Irony

2006-05-18T18:03:00.000-07:00

I have a friend in Venezuela, a Belgian friend, from Belgium. He works with the indymedia there. Sounds like a pretty together one, too. Anyway, we were up really late drinking like westerners, and he got to showing me some of his work. He`s a videographer, and he`s made some pretty slick short videos about protests in Belgium... one was a bank action. The bank has interests in some company that produces depleted uranium products. So, a bunch of folks dressed up as biohazard folks and walked into the bank, loudly announcing that they were looking for radiation. It made the bank customers think twice, and the presence of cameras there made it less likely that bank personnel would overreact. In fact, they pretty much let them take their geiger counters around and look for radiation.

He put images together with some sort of funny music, and the result is entertaining, and makes the point about the bank`s involvement in less respectable enterprises.

But what we got to talking about was how he felt like this strategy, his favorite technique, wouldn`t work in Venezuela. He had been spending a week or two with a group of former gang members in Cumana, on the coast. They showed him their guns, let him stay there for a while, told him how this gangs to volunteer projects had turned their lives around. And he says to me: how do I make a short, ironic video, with funny music and shenanigans? That`s because you can`t. It would amount to making fun of them.

And it reminded me of some of the conversations and discussions I`d had in Central America, about how we, folks from privilege, just don`t get it, can`t see the reality. It`s not like everyones depressed all of the time, far from it. People are happy, they joke around, especially in Venezuela. In fact, folks are much less depressed then we are, certainly less likely to be clinically depressed. But the thing is, when people make their life changes down here, the stuff we want to report on, irony doesn`t make sense. Irony is a luxury of being disconnected with suffering. Laughing, on the other hand, is a solution to suffering.

I think the age of irony must die. It`s a solution for cynics, in order to deal with a big bloody world, a world that doesn`t work, especially when you are the beneficiary of some of this luxury (simply meaning you can go to work everyday, you have a car, you shop at a mall, all things that a lower middle class united statesian would take for granted. We´re not talking golden bathtubs and ivory doorknobs). When you´ve gotten an education, and you realize how messed up it all is, and you feel completely powerless, the only way you can acknowledge the situation is by smirking and shrugging it off, or making some wry, intelligent comment.

So, who is more worthy of respect: the cynical political science major with a great record collection, or the ugly street sweeper with 4 fingers on his right hand who doesn`t know too much about Machiavelli, but knows that nothing is going to change if he doesn`t do something. Though he doesn`t have much work, and he drinks too much in the evening, he goes to the campesino organizational meetings, because, you know, he just can`t see any way that things will be different for his children. He can`t see any other way.

Organizing is serious business. It doesn´t mean we can`t laugh, it`s just, when you see suffering, either you distance yourself from it, rationalize, analyze. Or you feel it, and then you have to do something about it. And then we work, in earnest, and save the cynicism for whatever`s on television.

Road Hungry

2006-05-18T13:30:00.000-07:00

Out here, they practically grow on trees
You can find them everywhere, even when the landscape is otherwise barren.
It`s a shame there is no way to
Turn them into a crop, or harvest them somehow
And eat them up.

Kilometers are food for cars and bicycles, planes and feet
They eat them up. I guess there are people who have
Found a way to turn kilometers into food, but they own travel agencies
And bus companies. Taxi drivers eat kilometers.

There is no market for kilometers in the United States.
And so, they are left, scattered in the dust of a thousand other countries
In the New York Stock Exchange, there is no symbol for KMS, so that you could call
Your agent and buy low
Or sell high. The exchange rate isn`t that good, either.
1 mile equals 1.61 kilometers, but, the good thing is there`s
No trade policy that`s going to change it. We can be glad that people
Who come from a country where they use the metric system
Will never have to travel 5 times as far to go the same distance in the United States.

La Vida Dolorita, Part 4 : Burning Judas

2006-04-18T17:34:00.000-07:00

La Vida Dolorita, Part 4: Burning Judas

Ok, so if you see a picture of me in church don´t freak out, they didn´t get me – I didn´t eat any flesh or drink any blood. In fact, I was in the Dolorita church twice during this stay – once on Ash Wednesday, and here for resurrection day. It was nice, and a little weird, sort of like old times, back when I was a monaguilla, an altar boy.

For those of you who have never been Catholic, here are some things i feel like commenting on:

--While some people choke on it, I love that holy roman incense they use. I think it´s frankincense. There´s a lot of talk, you know, about Frankincense and Myrrh, but that`s some real stuff. And am I the only one who thinks of Frankenstein when I hear that word?

--The easter candle. There´s so much representation in the catholic church, no wonder it gets a bad rap from protestants about idol worshipping. There´s a large candle that shows up in church on Ash Wednesday, and stays unlit until Easter. When it´s lit, Christ has risen from the dead.

-- Here in Caracas, I don´t know if they do it other places or not, they do this Burning Judas thing. The idea is, people from the neighborhood construct a man out of old clothing people have lying around, and stuff this guy, put him in a chair, and light him on fire on resurrection day. Clearly, this is a purification ritual, and to having this event on the most important holy day of the catholic calendar reminds us of the pagan roots of Christianity. Throughout Europe (not to mention native traditions), you´ll find a lot of burning effigies and bonfire building from spring until harvest time.. because Sun Energy is strong during this time. And specifically for a springtime ritual, it means, lets burn all of the stuff we have left over from the winter, because now we`ve got new things growing. In Caracas, they often name the effigy something symbolic, like "Neoliberalism" or "George Bush" because it`s simpler to just make the connection with fire as a destructive force, rather than a rebirthing thing.

-- When the hell is Easter going to be, you might wonder. The way it works is this: The first Sunday after the first full moon after the first day of spring. That`s it, that`s how they know. Figuring out when Carnival is, you just count 40 days backwards... Carnival, the way it`s celebrated with Fat Tuesday (or Shrove tuesday) and Ash Wednesday appears historically after the whole idea of Lent, 40 days of temptation in the desert. Though there are pagan calendar events throughout the year, I think the whole lent cycle is fairly free of pagan roots.

It´s interesting. Imbolc is the pagan holiday that became candelmas, then became groundhog day. That´s February 2nd. Then, the next pagan holiday is the spring equinox, around march 20th. About 45 days. After that, we get Beltane, a fire burning ceremony, also known as May Day, which later became.... international labor day? I mention this, because I can´t help but wonder if the Spanish colonial associations of Catholicism in Latin America would retain more of the converted pagan rituals, like bonfire burning than we would see in the US, where Catholicism was imported rather than imposed.

--Another representation I like is the way of the cross. If you´ve never been to a Catholic church, cathedral, or basilica, you´ve never seen this, but always along the walls there are pictures, 14 of them, actually. I don´t have them memorized, but I think they´re cool. Symbolically, they represent the trials of the heroe`s journey. If you chew on it for a while, or studied sacred literature, you could find a correspondence between the stations of the cross, and the journeys of Odysseus, or Orpheus, or Captain Ahab. Or Elvis. The pictures chronicle the story from Jesus` arrest in the garden of Gethsemane to the resurrection.

One thing that annoys me is the status of Mary. I mean, too bad she wasn´t divine too, or she might have had a word or two to say to God about this whole business of killing her son and cooking him on a stake because you and everyone else has been bad.

I never noticed this when I was young, but apparently they don´t sing the Gloria for the entire Lenten period. When I heard it last night, it made me think.. I wonder if Van Morrison´s song was a conscious attempt to turn this catholic holy song on it´s head, and make it about a sexy woman.

There are a lot of things in La Dolorita`s church that are very different from the church I went to growing up, which I partly attribute to cultural factors. There was a lot of singing and dancing around, while my church was much more solemn, and well, frankly, boring.

I think this has something to do with the Salesians (even though my church in Tucson was Silesian, too). Silesian is a word which I don´t know what it means, and I doubt I will ever use it again. So, please, take a good look at it.

Lenis and Alexander are like the main music people in the church, they both sing. Their good friend Williams (it`s true what you´ve heard - if your name is William, they always add an "s" at the end. I don´t know if this is some phonological thing, or what, but I know like five Williamses) plays the guitar (he loves Dust in the Wind, man). The songs are kind of country, kind of rock and roll, and if you´ve been to any sort of modern Christian church, you´ve probably come across a similar style.

Musicians from the congregation sing the songs, and it´s not exactly tight… I don´t know, technically, it´s kind of horrible, off key and off tempo. But the spirit is there, and they´re doing it for the community, without fines de lucro. Kind of like community radio. And, so you support them and cheer them on, knowing that they´re giving it up for the community, and its not important if there´s a little feedback when the priest is turning the wine into blood.

And this made me think about how nice it is that you can´t really screw up in this church, you know? They want you to be there, because you´re a nice, fresh soul, and if you get the words wrong… well, they know that if they alienate you, and it´s not fun, people won´t come. Hell- ain´t enough to scare ´em into attendance, because that`s been tried, and there`s enough fear already out there, mostly people probably come to church to escape fear for a change. Which brings up an interesting event. Near the end of the mass, a fellow strode in (the doors are almost always open), and he kind of looked like a street punk in Portland, baseball cap on sideways, ripped pants and dirty clothes. He was talking to himself and had a ragged book in his hand. His eyes had dark circles under them. and he walked right down the middle of the aisle and up in front while the priest was saying goodbye to the flock, and started mumbling words as if he was reading his book. The attendees were clearly nervous and some of them moved to strategic positions to sort of block him. Some people offered him some change. Mostly everyone was a little nervous. I interpreted it as a sign, sort of a test of faith for the people. Not that it wasn´t a potentially dangerous situation, but it sort of broke the festive spirit and put people in the place of those in their own community whose lives are pretty messed up. And I thought of Jesus, who I think was just as divine as you and me, and it occurred to me, that this guy was kind of like the people that Jesus hung out with, you know? The lowest of the low. And it was kind of nice to see one person, Adriani, approach him and start chatting with him without fear. I think that`s prolly what Jesus would have done.

There are lots of good reasons I gave up Catholicism, and Christianity especially. Mostly, it´s symbolically kind of gross - spiritual cannibalism, really, with some very old foundations. I do think the passion, the story of it all can be quite moving on a number of different levels - you know, a divine man-child, who martyrs himself for everyone in the universe. I mean, that´s hardcore. But it´s just not the kind of meaning that I´m looking for in the world these days, and I think a lot of people are the same way.

We need a religion to counter the actual imperial world religion of materialism. Mammon is the true God ruling the planet these days. I´m guessing when Mammon fails to serve us, and humans need other explanations for why things are the way they are, we´ll see a new interpretation of the old symbols. And let´s hope the virgin, this time around, gets a more respectable seat in the pantheon.

La Vida Dolorita - Part 3: And Four Walls

2006-03-30T14:19:00.000-08:00

Inside the house, there´s a nice kitchen, a gas stove (the gas comes from tanks that last about a month) - which, in any case, is way better than cooking electric. They have a refrigerator, yes. Several cupboards, with food in them. To the left, you can see some arepas that I made.

There´s a TV set, where Lenis watches the Catholic Rosary Show in the morning, where regular people say lots and lots of Hail Marys, and sometimes, a floating image of the Virgin hangs suspended there on the screen for your meditative pleasure. Alexander watches sports at night. Also in the kitchen is usually a large jug of water, like the ones that are used in office coolers, but its not attached to a cooler. We buy that for 4000 bolivares down there at the bodega at the foot of the stairs.

Directly across from the kitchen opening is the main bedroom of Lenis and Alexander, with a bigger TV that plays DVDs. Down a little hallway, and we reach the dining room. It contains a sizeable dining table, and now a large china cabinet. The cabinet used to be in the hallway, but Jotsebe, Lenis and Alexanders preteen child, keeps rearranging the furniture.. to her credit, it does look better now.. but she keep stuffing everything on the table into one or two drawers, and I can´t find this cable or that pen.

There´s also a computer, with a really green screen monitor, and this wind chime of bells that is definitely hanging too low (you can see them in the upper middle of the photo at left). I know that, because I keep bumping into it. When I first arrived, I bumped into it alot, which is so funny, everyone says so. She says her friends always tell her, "Quitas las campanas" get those freaking bells out of there, because I´m not the only one who bumps into them. She´s short, so she never does. She just laughs, and they stay there. For a while, I tried really hard to make sure I didn´t bump into them, cuz it kind of hurts... but invariably, I would forget, and Clang! But now, after almost two months, I hardly ever bump into them anymore, without even thinking about it. What´s weird is, if I´m out of sorts, or preoccupied I walk right into them. I don´t consciously know the difference, but some part of me must now stay vigilant for the bells even though I´m not aware of it. It seems very buddhist, really, for a Catholic household.

Off the dining room is Jhorlan´s empty room - that´s Lenis and Alexander´s son. He doesn´t stay at the house, but the room is alwasy there in case he wants to. Reportedly, he stays with his girlfriend´s family, though I´m not sure of the details on this.

One more big room, the living room, doesn´t get a lot of use, mostly when special visitors come. This is where the front door is, and there´s a little altar with a bible, a statuette of Mary, and a vase for roses. Sorry, the photo is sideways. Jotsebe, their daughter, sleeps in a room just off the sitting room. They say their house is humble, but they own it. I think it´s magnificent. I sleep upstairs where the radio is, but that´s another story.

Lenis is a fervent Catholic. She is inspired by the saying of the rosary on the TV in the morning, and very often asks god to grant her favors, which generally speaking, occur. In one of the weirdest spiritual ironies this side of purgatory, she implied once that I was a gift from god. She told me that, the day I showed up, she was praying hard for a temporary and immediate solution to their money situation. I was, of course, hoping I could find a better, cheaper place to stay than the hotels I´d been in for the prior two months. I don´t pray the way she does, but I gots my own faith, and it seems to me that my People got together with her People and made a little Arrangement. And it came just in time for all of us. The rent money and the cash I´m paying them for helping me with the documentary isn´t a permanent solution to their problems, but their hospitality has almost completely solved mine.

I Just Have To Tell You This One Thing

2006-03-30T13:41:00.000-08:00

I´m in San Cristobal, Venezuela, about an hour from the Colombian border. Alexander and I are here because I had this amazing idea that I would use some of the grant money to pay him to come with me to check out other areas of Venezuela. Fun and work at the same time... which reminds me of something I heard during this voyage: There´s play that is play, and work that is work. There´s play that is work, and work that is play, and in only one of these is the path to happiness.

We went to Valencia for a few days, and that was kind of like it was before, but with new people, and for a shorter time. We went to Barinas, a muggy agricultural center and drank too much before our interviews. And now we´re in San Cristobal, trying to find out what makes this different from other areas of Venezuela, con respecto a la revolution. And, I interviewed revolutionary city planners (yep, they exist!), and today, a local journalist to find out about why people keep getting killed here at the border.

That´s a little update. But what I wanted to tell you, we decided to head for the border, why not? It´s been months since I´ve been close to the border, I kind of miss the thrill. So we took a bus to San Antonio de Tachira, a lovely hour long bus ride. We got there, it was a sizeable border town, the kind of place that has everything except what you need: San Antonio tiene todo lo que no necesitas. So, I made a long phone call to Portland, and then we ate chicken that we didn´t like and decided to go back.

But what I forgot was that we were at a border town, and with the drug activity, immigration, and, the rarely mentioned gas smuggling (you see, gas is like $0.20 a gallon here - something interesting that needs to be mentioned in any analysis of Venezuela´s socialist revolution) - Colombian folks (who are not regarded highly in these parts) come over, buy cheap gas, and I assume, take it back and sell it. But that means there are a lot of Guardia Nacional people. And they check passports. And I´ve gotten used to not having mine with me, though I do carry a copy.

So, we all get off the bus, which is normal, but I realize I´m in a little bit of a bind not having my original passport. Shit, even if I did, it would be a problem, because I´ve overstayed my welcome here by about a month. That could be an annoying bug in my plans. The GN calls me over, and Alexander and I smile a lot, and GN tries to look mean, but he´s really not... and eventually, they let me go. Meanwhile, the camioneta (bus) I´m on has had to pull over to the side cuz I´m holding everything up. When we get back on, I apologize to everyone.

Alexander and I are sitting in the back seat where there´s usually a connected row of five seats... we had grabbed the window seats, and three amiable women were sitting between us, and had been chatting with us. They joked around about how I should carry my passport, and one mentioned how she lost hers one time in another country, and boy does it suck.

A little while later, we are stopped again, all quite normal, of course, and a GN gets on and asks for everyone´s cedulas (ID cards). And we all look at each other, "oh no..." He comes back and looks at everyone´s and I´m digging around again for my photocopy. While I`m doing that, he moves on, and ignores me. I start to wave my paper around, and they all hush me, and pretend to lean in front of me so that he won`t see me and come back. He gets off, and we leave, and sigh with relief, perhaps just as much so they don´t have to wait for me, as to prevent the hassle for me.

But think about this in the current context of immigration debate in the US, and the reality of Latin American immigrants in the US. How many of us would do the same thing for a Mexican guy sitting on the grayhound next to us? Playfully cover for him without his passport or expired visa anyway? Or even talk with him?

La Vida Dolorita, Part 2: Sweat, Water, Blood, Shit

2006-03-29T05:09:00.000-08:00

I walk up about 35 uneven steps to get to the front door of Lenis & Alexanders house. The first day I came, when they were building the radio antenna, I helped bring Johnny down the stairs. Johnny gets around in a wheelchair and a modified car. It wasn´t easy bringing him down in a chair. Johnny has an interesting story: according to Lenis, Johnny´s family has land out near Barquisimeto. He doesn´t go out there much, himself. Recently, the land was seized by campesinos under the land redistribution law. Johnny´s a big Chavista, and would normally support the land policy, but his family doesn´t have that much, so it´s kind of a conundrum for him, because he´ll have to argue against the government to get his land back. Anyway, I think the point is that La Dolorita isn´t exactly wheelchair accessible.

Sometimes I come in the side gate. I always have to be careful not to let out the 5 dogs. Five dogs, all female. We call them las perras. Niña, Negra, Gaba, Suji, and for some reason, I can´t remember the other one. Suji the puppy is my favorite. Niña is lactating right now, and when she menstruates, we call her señorita. There`s a concrete patio in the back, enough room for the dogs to run around. Every morning, someone picks up the dogshit and washes down the concrete. I´ve done it a couple of times, because I want to help, but I don´t think I do it right. In fact, I´m never doing anything right. It´s not like they´re mad at me for that, or that I always feel like a bad person. It´s just that they have all of their systems for living their lives, and they are very well articulated - and they are very different from the routines I would expect in a home in the states. I never quite understand.

For example, when it rains, a large bucket fills up with water which they use to rinse off the patio. They save the gray water from the washing machine to soap down the patio. But i´m never sure how much of the soapy water to use - and what do I do when there is no soapy water? There`s a spigot, but I know this draws water from their tank. Their tank receives water every 27 days, which I just now realized is kind of a menstrual cycle too. The last time it came was on my birthday. Anyway, I´m not sure I should use the water out of the tank, because it´s the same water we use to wash dishes, shower, and flush the toilet with - not drinking water, but clean water.

In Latin America, you never flush your shitty TP! The plumbing systems are complicated and sometimes old, and will get clogged up. Plus, they don´t really have wastewater treatment. A lot of the sewage heads right out into the rivers. Almost all urban rivers are contaminated. I was walking around with a friend from Atlanta in Merida, and we were hating the traffic, so he suggested walking down by the river. We have this idea that a river bank is a pleasant place to stroll away from the traffic on the street. But every urban river is just an open sewage pipe. They´ve generally all been fortified by concrete to prevent sewage from soaking into the soil, but there are no pleasant urban strolls by the river.

I have learned a new engineering trick, that I´m sure will come in handy the next time I encounter a plugged up toilet, something I couldn´t even imagine coming from the land of flushing paper: all you have to do, if your toilet is stuck up, is fill up a big bucket of water and pour it one medium fast pour right into the center of the bowl. The force of the water pushes through the plumbing, and takes the rest of the water with it. Astounding. There is a hose in our bathroom from which we fill a 5-gallon bucket to bathe, flush, and clean the floor. What we do is fill up the big bucket, then dip a smaller bucket in and fill it up, then dump it on our heads. Every morning, standing there, right before I do this, I say to myself, I can´t believe I`m about to dump this cold water on my head. Especially if it´s a little chilly. But then I do, and it´s done. Like jumping into a pool.

La Vida Dolorita - Part 1: Short Walk, Long Trip

2006-03-22T06:44:00.001-08:00

I can´t think that the goal of a global justice movement is to try to turn the whole world into a barrio. Although, some middle/upper middle class folks in Venezuela are worried that the "socialist" policies of Hugo Rafael Chavez Frias intend to do just that.

Likewise, writing this from the upper class urban neighborhood of El Viñedo in the wealthy area of Valencia, it can´t be true that material justice on a global scale means we work to turn every barrio into a glittering landscape of glass walls and manicured lawns. For one, there just aren´t enough resources in the world for all the humble folk to live like gringo wanna-bes (that´s not my term, that´s what Valencians say about the people in this sector). It´s easy for me to criticize the materialist aspiriations of better off Venezuelans, for lots of reasons - one significant one is that they live a lifestyle that is very similar to many Portlanders, and they do that when there is much more obvious material inequality right in their face. In a way, it´s refreshing, because it´s so unapologetically classist, it avoids a lot of the hypocrisy we can observe in white liberal areas of the US, folks who imagine themselves working for change, but quite disconnected from the reality of those who suffer. Nope, the "cifrinos" here say, I´m not poor, and I´m not gonna be poor, and I have the right to make my life as "good" as I can make it.

A side note for a later posting: it may be that a definition of socialism questions just this assumption: Do you have the right to have your life as good as you can make it, at the expense of others?

I don´t want to glamorize life in the barrio of Petare, but I don´t want to stereotype it either. I do want to try to write something that makes the people who live there more real. There are millions of totally real people living in barrios in South America. They go to work, and have kids, and go to church. Sometimes they have radio stations. Sometimes, shooting happens. Sometimes, drugs are sold. Lots of times, people hang out on the street and talk real loud, and lots of times, men drink beer in packs. And lots of times, people dress up and comb their hair to go to school and put on cologne and a nice shirt, and hopefully, nobody will know that they live in the barrio.

Petare is a huge mass of people, terra cotta, and tin. Reportedly the largest barrio, in terms of population, in S. America. Entire bus networks ply the twisty, narrow, garbage-strewn streets, passing innumerable murals, some government-related, some community designed, sometimes just spraypaint on the wall. Less formal transportation networks exist, too - like the carritos (basically an old model US car, quite beaten up, that stuffs five passengers at 1,500Bs each) that take me from the Palo Verde Metro station up to La Dolorita where I live, or the jeeps which carry folks 6 or 7 at a time up into the hills above Caracas. And mototaxis, too: more expensive, but they`ll get you around the thought-stifling traffic james that are endemic in Venezuela.

To get to my habitacion, I ride the Caracas metro, line 1, all the way out to the Palo Verde stop, the last one on the lane, the stop right after the Petare stop. This puts me into urbanizacion Palo Verde, and the nearby Centro Comercial Palo Verde. I come out of the metro, and ride a carrito up into the cerros (hills, but also another name for groups of barrio dwellings). First, we pass the high rise apartments of the urbanizacion, then we get to a kind of greener area, basically, the side of a cliff that`s too steep for ranchos (the names of the dwellings themselves). Once we emerge from this part, we´re in Parroquia La Dolorita (just like New Orleans, Venezuela uses parroquias. A parroquia is bigger than a neighborhood, but smaller than a municipio - a municipio is kind of like a county, and a parroquia is something like the way we use the word city in large urban areas - Beaverton is a City, and so is Troutdale, and Oregon City - an administrative zone within a municipio.)

Anyway, once we make a hairpin turn onto the carretera (highway) principal Dolorita-Mariche, you pass a McDonald´s on the right, and enter an industrial zone that courts the edges of the carretera and the hills. It´s sort of surprising at first, because you wouldn´t expect there to be large factories and warehouses so high up in the hills, but there they are. Interesting note about McDonalds: Whereas fast food in the states is generally pretty cheap, in Venezuela, it´s rather expensive, and really focused on getting the kids to want to go. A McMeal of some sort is about 8,000 Bs, and a really good meal in a cheap restaurant with soup, fish, rice, fried plantains, juice, and an arepa, can be as low as 5,000 Bs. Sort of strange, but fast food is exotic (though very common), not a just a cheap, fast way to eat, and that accounts for the way it operates in this culture.

About 10 minutes to one hour later (depending on traffic), passing the noteworthy Catholic church my host family attends, I arrive at Dolorita central. This area is always busy, especially on the weekends, and was a little intimidating at first, but nobody bothers me, and often, someone calls out to me that I have met. There´s a panaderia with some yummy deserts and good bread, a butcher shop (the meat is not so good, but it´s open late), a police module (fact is, where the police are in the barrios, is where it´s tranquilo), a supermarket and a Mercal (the low cost government grocery stores). From this spot, 7 streets go off in different directions. I walk up one of them, quite steep, for about 5 minutes. I pass a basketball hoop and a small bodega where we can buy beer, cigarrettes, and soda, and just past that, the last gate on the left, is the stairway to my temporary residence.

So, if you want to drop by, you can probably find me. Just ask around for the gringo at the community radio station.

El Salvador Gets Cheap Oil

2006-03-22T06:44:00.000-08:00

Interesting times for El Salvador. The FMLN (Faribundo Marti Liberacion Nacional), formerly revolutionary armed group turned political party, barely wins the election, after three days of delayed results. This comes right after Bush administration goes around the stalled CAFTA implementation, preferring instead to sign one on one deals with Latin American countries.

And now, Chavez says, if you´re going to sign a deal that doesn´t benefit El Salvador, we´ll sign one that does: cheap petroleum in exchange for agricultural products. Now, I don´t know exactly how the products get to the border of countries like Bolivia and El Salvador - but if there are provisions that ensure that these products are produced by small farmers and agricultural cooperatives, these deals really do help campesinos in these countries. Without seeing some numbers, I can´t tell on what scale, but one of the problems of the campesinos we met in Nicaragua was that CAFTA would make it more difficult for their farmers to get their products to an international market, because they can´t afford all the shipping infrastructure that the big agriculture companies can.

It´s pretty interesting foreign policy.

_____________________
Chavez Lashes Out at Free-Trade Pacts

By JORGE RUEDA
The Associated Press
Monday, March 20, 2006; 11:43 PM

CARACAS, Venezuela -- Venezuela agreed Monday to sell fuel under preferential terms to an El Salvador association created by a group of leftist mayors. Details of the amount of fuel that will be sold to the Intermunicipal Energy Association for El Salvador were not immediately available but shipments were to begin "as soon as possible," said Violeta Menjivar, mayor-elect of San Salvador.

It was not immediately clear what kind of fuel was covered by the agreement, but local Salvadoran officials said they hoped for diesel and gasoline. The Venezuelan state oil firm subsidiary PDV Caribe reached the agreement with the El Salvador association, formed by mayors belonging to the leftist Farabundo Marti National Liberation Front party.
Under the agreement, cities headed by the FMLN will pay 60 percent of their oil bill within 90 days while paying for the rest in-kind through agricultural products and locally made goods, said Soyapango Mayor Carlos Ruiz.

Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez, whose country is a major world oil producer, has broadened his influence with generous oil deals to countries across Latin America and the Caribbean. The program has also extended to the United States where the leftist leader has shipped cheaper heating oil to low-income people in New York and Massachusetts via its company Citgo Petroleum Corp.

Chavez, a frequent critic of U.S. policy, used Monday's signing occasion to criticize U.S.-backed free trade agreements such as the one El Salvador joined March 1. "They're making deals with the devil, the devil himself," Chavez said.

Salvadoran President Tony Saca criticized the oil deal and urged the FMLN not to try to generate "false hopes" among Salvadorans. The FMLN, once backed by Cuba and the Soviet Union, battled conservative U.S.-backed governments until a peace treaty in 1992, when the FMLN transformed itself into a political party.

7,000 Women Can´t Be Wrong

2006-03-09T12:14:00.000-08:00

I hope I never need to use my embassy while I´m in Venezuela. Come to think of it, given the work I´m doing here, they´d probably send me to Cuba if I tried to ask for help. Anyway, the reason that I walked with my friend from Cooperativa Radiofonica Petare all the way to the US Embassy had a lot less to do with my asking for help, than it did with delivering the message to the US government that it needs help - psychological help.

On International Women´s day, maybe 8,000 of us walked from Chacaito, in the financial district in East Caracas through Las Mercedes, the upscale dining and shopping district, along a highway, and high up into the hills above Caracas to deliver an "open letter from the women of Venezuela to the US government" Every state in Venezuela sent a delegation of women.

After blocking the highway for a few kilometers along with the mayor of Caracas and many other well-known functionaries of the government, we entered and exclusive, steep neighborhood. It was a grueling climb, much longer than we expected, but after a while, we knew that we had to go on, that the reason that the embassys are up there are just to prevent this kind of thing from occurring.

I mean, I don´t have anything fantastic to report, the whole thing is what was amazing. A member of the national assembly read an open letter from the women of Venezuela to the US Government, asking them to get out of Iraq. Given the high profile spat between the Venezuelan and US government recently, to stand in front of my own embassy with folks singing their national anthem was humbling.

Standing with people who consider themselves radically socialist and nationalistic at the same time produces an odd feeling for me. What would it take for me to feel proud to sing my national anthem in a group of people? And it those of us criticizing our government, standing in solidarity with folks who really have something to lose at our hands, people who look at me and say "when are you guys going to have a revolution?" - it seems easy to just reject all of our country´s symbols. What will it take for me to wave my flag around, and not see each star as a death´s head, like the picture above?

Political Tourism

2006-03-05T09:14:00.000-08:00

Hey, everyone! I haven´t been completely idle.. I´ve published my first magazine article! And issue 36 of Clamor magazine is out, and should be at stores that stock progressive media (Powell´s should have it).

My article is pretty short: after being on the road for five months, I´ve developed both a dependence and critique of travel guides like Lonely Planet and Footprint. While they are indispensable for getting around and finding a hotel, their claim of promoting responsible tourism and presenting accurate historical facts are easy to question. Tourism is a powerful and unbalanced economic force. While we can´t stop white folks with money from entering countries (why not? it seems we can stop brown folks without money from doing so...), we might think very seriously about creating guidebooks that do more than encourage vegetarian fare at the sites of mass slaughters of indigenous people.. and actually create political tourism, a kind of moving through the world that is designed to get people involved with groups who are doing good work in communities.

This is not easy, but look for more details after I publish the article on this blog in a few months. For now, check out the Clamor site and buy a magazine for me to read when I get home, too!

http://www.clamormagazine.org/

Go, CITGO, Go!

2006-03-05T09:04:00.000-08:00

I don´t want to do too much reposting, since this is supposed to be a more personal account of what I discover, but the following short article, in my assessment, describes the situation just as I see it, and explains well the recent lame attempt to impugn CITGO as a threat to the US oil economy for selling cheap oil to poor communities. Really, a brilliant political move, if you want to make the current administration look foolish and greedy.

The situation is more complicated, of course, and not everything is perfect on this so-called road to a 21st Century Socialism. But for now, this gives a good introduction for those looking for a little more analysis than mass media has to offer.

========
Venezuela's Threat
by ZNet
Saturday, Mar. 04, 2006 at 7:36 PM

Chavez is viewed as a threat, as a "virus" that might "infect" others.
By Gary Olson

Here is today's multiple choice question: Who recently provided 1.15 million gallons of low-cost heating oil to thousands of poor and working class families in seven East Coast states, including 25,000 people in Philadelphia, and did so with the words,"No one should be forced to sacrifice food, shelter, or medicine to stay warm" ?

a.) King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia
b.) Felix Rodriguez
c.) George W. Bush
d.) Oprah Winfrey
e.) 10 major U.S. oil companies.

The correct answer is "b" and Rodriguez is the CEO of Citgo, a subsidiary of Venezuela's state-run oil company, Petroleos de Venezuela SA (PDVSA). On behalf of Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez, he also distributed free heating oil to dozens of homeless shelters from Maine to Delaware. Venezuela, with the largest oil deposits outside the Middle East and the world's fifth largest oil producer, also sold oil at far lower costs to fifteen poor nations in the Caribbean and Central America. Even Native Americans in Maine were recipients, and Chief Bill Philips of the Micmac tribe thanked Pres. Chavez: "He is a fellow Native from the Americas, and we appreciate Chavez trying to bring low-cost heating oil for our elderly."

The 10 U.S. oil companies did not respond to requests to help the poor. Just one of them, Exxon, reported record profits of $36 billion in 2005. Can the twice democratically-elected Chavez be the same fellow that Pat Robertson wants the CIA to assassinate, Secretary of Defense Rumsfeld has likened to Adolf Hitler; and official and semi-official types have placed on the White House "enemies list," labeled a "red devil," as "lethal as Osama bin Laden," and a "madman"? Further, the U.S. supported a unsuccessful military coup against Chavez in 2002 and Condoleeza Rice has called the Venezuelan government a "major threat to the region." Assuming for the moment that preventing Pennsylvanians from freezing to death hasn't prompted this venomous rhetoric, what could account for it? Perhaps the answer lies in some evil deeds done by Pres. Chavez back in Venezuela. What mischief has he been up to there?

The challenges are daunting in Venezuela where 80% of the population is poor and some 1 million children scratch out a bare subsistance in the major cities. After four decades of indifferent upper-class rule, Chavez, a 51-year-old former army paratrooper, was elected president in 1998 and again in 2004. According to Washington-based economist Mark Weisbrot, "The tangible improvements for those living in Caracus' poor barrios have been noticed in the rest of Latin America, a region with the most outrageously unequal income distribution in the world." Here are a few highlights of his tenure:

* For the first time time, universal health care is official state policy and peasants are living longer due to accessible health care.
* Elementary schools are providing three free meals a day to all students, drawing some million new students to school.
* Misiones (missions/government projects) are extending vital social services like literacy training, food subsidies, and rudimentary health care to the poor.
* Indigenous Venezuealans, homosexuals and women are now protected in the constitution.
* Land reform is redistributing idle land to landless peasants. * Operation Milagro (miracle), a joint venture with Cuban doctors, has restored eyesight to thousands of blind people in the region.

Venezuelan elites, who despise Chavez and call him a "monkey," have tried mightily to sabotage the economy for eight years, but it grew at a respectable nine percent in 2005, the highest in the hemisphere. Venezuelan oil has made this possible but only Chavez acted on the clearly subversive and radical notion that his country's vast resources should be used to benefit the country's people and even those beyond its borders. Oil was nationalized in 1976, but according to all accounts the oil bureaucracy operated as a "state within a state," refusing to function on behalf of the citizens. The system remains imperfect but Chavez finally excercised effective control over PDVSA in 2001. State oil profits were over $25 billion last year and the petrodollars are now staying home in the form of high social spending, faithfully reflecting social ownership of this natural resource. Something must be working because his approval rating stands at 77%, the highest in the Americas.

And of course this begins to explain why Chavez is viewed as a threat, as a "virus" that might "infect" others. An alternative development model where the citizens, not private U.S. foreign investors, are the primary beneficiaries of government policy is feared by U.S. elites. As Latin American expert Prof. Rosa Maria Pegueros observes, from Washington's perspective the real threat is that if Chavez succeeds, he may "create an egalitarian society that has the power to resist United States hegemony." Who knows where this virus may appear next?

To help it spread, I'm filling my tank at the Citgo station from now on.

Gary Olson, Ph.D. is chair of the Political Science Department at Moravian College in Bethlehem,PA. Contact:olson@moravian.edu

www.zmag.org/sustainers/content/2006-02/27olson.cfm

Dos Meses

2006-03-03T08:40:00.000-08:00

It´s been just about two months since my last entry. I now know that simply claiming my commitment to updating you all about this project doesn´t necessarily work. Nevertheless, now I´m really going to write regularly. Probably.

Here´s what has happened since Cornel West and Harry Belafonte came to town. First, my friend, guide, and translator helped me get a job. While I recognize a massive imbalance in that people all over latin america risk their lives and families to come to work in the USA for very little, sometimes without authorization to do so... and I can come here and teach English and occupy a respectable position here. I don´t like this imbalance, but I will do the work while I`m here.

Also, during January, I was running around like mad trying to figure out accommodation for friend from Portland for the World Social Forum. The WSF deserves it´s own entry, and I have one written in my head, but for now, I´ll say that I spent days searching for a place to sleep, preferably in the barrios. I did turn up one night in a radio station called Radio Negro Primero, but ultimately, that wouldn´t have worked for all of us. We ended up spending a couple of weeks in Hotel Waldorf, believe it or not, in the old immigrant section of West Caracas called La Candelaria. Very close to many of the events for the Forum, it was a great spot, and we ended up making many friends in the neighborhood just by bumbling around and needing help from the incredibly hospitable Venezuelans in our area.

The WSF itself was pretty disorganized, and that was disappointing, but we still had some peak experiences, like the delegation from Bolivia that literally rocked the swank Teatro Teresa Carreno performance auditorium talking about real bottom up democracy. Time will tell what goes on in Bolivia, but that´s where to look to find an example of people taking power, in my opinion.

Naturally, Portland friends Barbara (KBOO), Jim and Elizabeth (Portland Cable Access and TV Set) Ellen (Laughing Horse), Chelsea (SF Committee for Solidarity with People of El Salvador) and John (Portland State U) wanted to see a little of the country while they were here. We went to Merida for five days. There, we encountered a small chapel completely made of stone, frailejones in the Paramo, the world´s longest cable car, rain, a disorienting replica of an italian castle used as a hotel, and runny noses all around. I met with a group of gringos, mostly from Los Angeles, who are working within one of the government social programs called Mision Sucre, which provides access to University education for poorer Venezuelans. They are teaching English to Mision Sucre students, and I gave a little workshop on how to teach. I think it went well, but i haven´t heard from them since. Still, they´re rocking as folks trying to find a way to use their privilege in an appropriate way.

By February 10th, everyone had gone home. Immediately, I had a workshop to give at the school where I´m teaching. It went well, about 15 teachers showed up out of 30 (of course, the ones who already were the best teachers). But what really went on for me that week was a move into the barrio of La Dolorita, up in the hills above Petare (one of the biggest barrios in the world). Though I have been repeatedly warned by middle class folks and guidebooks, the area I´m staying in is poor, and the people I´m living with are great. Plus, they´ve just put up a small radio station, and currently are trying to get a license for it. They broadcast on 6 watts every night for a couple of hours, and are starting to generate interest within the community, even the local priest in the Catholic church propagandized it during one of his sermons. I´m looking forward to watching it grow while I´m there for the next couple of months. They are grateful to the a media delegation from the states who helped them put up the antenna.

I intend to write more about my experiences as a privileged gringo living with poor folks to get the truth out about what their lives are like. I know that all the middle class folks I´ve met, after calling upon a host of cliches about poor folks and life in the barrios, have never spent any time there. Though I could be criticized, I suppose, for romanticizing life in the La Dolorita, my intention is to bring some resources from the US to folks who don´t have so much. And at the same time, since I have the privilege of being able to move among the rich and the poor in Venezuela, but haven´t been socialized to fear being a class traitor, I relish the opportunity to set straight middle-upper class Venezuelans about the character of poor folks. I should be embarrassed to say where I live, but... I´m not, and that´s all. Keep that in mind when you meet Venezuelans in the US - very nice people, but often they will be well to do Venezuelans who claim to live in fear of Chavez and the so-called Bolivarian revolution. Almost invariably, what they want is to move the United States, or already have children there.

During Carnaval, I spent a week in a small town called Jusepin, 20 minutes from Maturin, the capital of Monagas state. Jusepin also deserves it´s own entry, but we had the opportunity there, in just a few days to talk with dozens of people living in an oil rich area (this place has enough oil that, years ago, our friends Halliburton came an left behind them a small zone that still carries its name!), but who don´t have a grocery store, a bank, or sufficient medical resources. The story of the women who blocked the roads to get some ambulances to their community will come another day, but gives you an idea of how regular folks, from the Barrios of Caracas, to small towns are feeling empowered to make the changes they want to see in their communities.

And I´m writing this to remind us, in the United States... there are a lot of people waiting for us to follow their example and change the power dynamics in our own country. more soon.

The Day Cornel West Came To See Me

2006-01-07T13:31:00.000-08:00

At first, it might not seem like Harry Belafonte, Cornel West, and others, including Dolores Huerta, coming to Venezuela has anything directly to do with a project directed at celebrating, discovering, and displaying the diversity of Latin American communities.

But, you know, it`s always nice to have these folks come and visit you anyway. Makes you think you`re in the right place at the right time.

They were here as part of the run up to the World Social Forum January 24 to 29 here in Caracas, for a conference of progressive US leaders of color against racism.

Though the event was held at the Caracas Hilton, and the attendees were definitely better off Caraqueños. The event didn`t exactly feel like a socialist revolution. Nevertheless, West, true to his Liberation Theological intellectual background, gave a fiery speech, in English, about the role of US progressives in the Bolivarian Process.

I could remark at length in criticism, but that wasn`t what it was about... what was useful to me, taking serious note of the privilege at this event, were some of the sentiments that play directly into the one-sided dialogue that has unfolded on this blog.

At one point, the Princeton professor of Theology said that it`s not about the color of your skin, it`s about your values and beliefs, and what you`re working for. Obviously true, and so good to hear as a white person struggling with his presence in Latin America. But also, not taking into account the existing inequality which makes things complicated when white folk and people of color try to work together.
That we needn`t think that the Bolivarian process is the right answer for always. West often refers to Socratic thinking in his public speaking, and on Friday, January 6th, he invoked the questioning process, the risk that it requires, and the risk involved in the Bolivarian experiment.
He mentioned often the millions of "Americans" who don`t support Bush, and the crowd seemed to really enjoy every jab at the US administration, and the notion that people in the states might be looking to the changes in Latin America with hope - hope for a multipolar world, hope for a foreign policy landscape that really can change the systems that maintain violent inequality, and nourish democractic organizing instead of crushing it for profit.
And my favorite point among many: that he doesn`t like to say he`s optimistic. Optimism, he said, is "spectatorial". Optimism watches TV or listens to the radio and says, I think things are going to turn out ok in Venezuela. Hope, on the other hand, is participatory, and risky. Hope requires you to get your hands dirty, and show some solidarity by getting yourself involved in the risk.

Chavistas Greet Evo Morales

2006-01-07T13:22:00.000-08:00

I was so lucky to have just arrived back in Caracas earlier last week. I had been wondering whether or not to go to the Venezuelan coast and try to find a cheap place to kick back for a few days while I`m waiting for the World Social Forum; or go ahead and go back to the city, even though that meant staying in a bachelor-pad-like cheesy love hotel (All of the cheap hotels are "love hotels" here in Venezuela, meaning that they do most of their business by the hour.) But going back to the city, I knew, was the only way to try to get accommodations arranged for the KBOO and TV set people who will come to VZ for the WSF, try to get my equipment fixed, try, above all, to acheive the elusive quest of meeting a Chavista.

You see, while I spent a month in Valencia, I met a lot of really nice people and taught English to them. But they are business owners, people who work for auto companies, former oil company employees... they all are pretty well off, they`ve been to Miami before... and they hate Chavez. They fear and loathe him. And though the folks I spoke with are not at all crazy, I often felt that we reached the point where it became difficult to have a rational discussion with them about Venezuelan politics. More than one person mentioned the desire to leave Venezuela and move to the United States. More on all this at some other time. The point is: as people from the United States, whatever our humble background, if we come to Latin America, we are automatically in the upper class. And that`s especially true here in Venezuela, where there is a lot of money, and a lot of resources, and a significant middle-upper middle class. We privileged folk don`t automatically get access to the poor 80%, living in the barrios, they are kind of roped off. It doesn`t give you instructions in the Lonely Planet to get to the ranchos (as the poor parts are called in Venezuela).

Anyway, I woke up and turned on the TV (I watch TV in Latin America, in the hotels, because it`s one of my best sources for constant language practice), and found out from the state controlled media source, which I quite enjoy, that Evo Morales would be in the National Pantheon THIS MORNING.. ASISTE! ASISTE! (which means, ATTEND, ATTEND!). So I did as I was told.

It was pretty interesting, I was within 500 ft of Hugo Chavez, Evo Morales, and this fellow from Peru that I`d never heard of - another leftist candidate in their upcoming elections, Ollanta Humala. I got some good pictures, and after hours of being too chicken to interview people, I finally screwed up my courage, and here`s a little bit of translated words from the mouths of Chavez supporters:

> > ----> > MALE: We´re here to receive the president of Bolivia and compañero Evo Morales - which vindicates history`s truly wounded people of this land, the ones who were here first. Evo Morales represents more than 500 years of history, he represents the clamor, the tragedy, the pain... but also the hope of many generations; hundreds of thousands of human beings throughout the lands of Latin America. This is an historic meeting, it signifies, in the first place, the solidarity manifesting in the world for the Venezuelan revolution as an historic Bolivarian process. And from that, the perspective that they have in Venezuela is to bring support to the Bolivian people: for example, Venezuela has promised Bolivia to bring their new president here and recognize the will of millions of Bolivians.

> > ----> > MALE: It`s important because it underlines Latin American unity - Because the people who are resisting imperialism are increasing all the time. There are changes in South America, the integration of countries is one of them. Changes like Mercosur and Petrocaribe. We can see the cooperation of different countries to share resources. For example, one country has natural gas, another has minerals, another has petroleum. We collaborate with the countries without petroleum, and give them oil in exchange for their resources.

> > ----> > FEMALE: We`re here enjoying the welcome for Evo Morales, indigenous president who is making history in Latin America. He`s the first indigenous > president of his nation. As I understand it, as I`ve heard on TV, he has help. I hope that he can maintain his autonomy, maintain his roots. We see some Bolivarians have forgotten Bolivarianismo, forgotten their identity. I hope that Evo Morales can, in this sense, vindicate and not follow the past of losing touch with his roots as a coca farmer... coca is part of the Bolivian economy, and what some countries want to do is destroy that. I hope he can reinvigorate the economy, taking into account all the social classes in that country. He will have to be very careful, because as we`ve already heard, this Fidel, Chavez, they are "dangerous". Why dangerous? Because they listen to the voice of the people, because they listen to he voices of the indigenous? It`s like here, in Venezuela where the Chavez legislature has gotten more votes and more delegates - Morales validates the fundamental indigenous participation in the government. This is the decisive hour. The people will not be dominated by other governments.

> > ----> > FEMALE: We wanted to see Evo Morales, don`t know him personally but i`ve seen him on television... I like him a lot as a president, and it makes me happy to see the continuation in other countries of the process that is happening here in Venezuela with Chavez and the Revolution.

> > ---> >FEMALE: it`s really important, the solidarity of Latin America, now with Evo in Bolivia, now with Uruguay, Brazil; with Argentina, with Venezuela, we are going to form a strong front - not to fight against the gringos - the gringos have their own problems. The gringos, or the northamerican people, they have to solve their own problems. But together we can confront them if we have to. We aren´t afraid of the gringos coming to invade us... they`re not going to invade.

But if they do come to invade, they will encounter a front that is not just Venezuela, but also Brazil, like i told you before, now we have our friend Evo Morales, we have our friend Kirschner in Argentina who we can count on.. so, they`re not going to invade. I would like to mention something I learned today. Evo Morales is an Aymaran Indian, born from that tribe. And they have three words: Amasua, Amanquella, and Amallulla. Amasua means don´t be a thief. Amanquella: don`t be lazy; and Amallulla, don`t be a liar. This is a message from Venezuela to the people of North America: Amasua, Amanquella, Amayuya.

=========
word.

Have Microphone, Already Traveling

2006-01-02T07:33:00.000-08:00

That may be one of the most clichéd subject headings I´ve ever written, and I´ve written my share. Still, it´s so where I am at right now.

To bring you up to speed: I´m writing at an internet cafe (1200 Bolivars per hour, about 50 cent, a little expensive) in Valencia, Venezuela. I taught English here for about 3 weeks in December to upper-class folks. I appear to have some karma in Valencia, because I keep having to come back here... and it´s an interesting city, very near where Simon Bolivar won the Battle of Carabobo that finally finished off the Spanish. But as Venezuela´s second-larges city, and a major industrial center, it leans a little more to the right than I´m comfortable with.

I kind of hoped to find some folks who support the Chavez government, because purportedly, more than half the country does. But one thing I´m realizing is, as a white guy on my own, with only passable spanish, I don´t get access to poor people. They are live in endless shanty towns that ring all the South American capitals. Without contacts, I only get to interact with people roughly in the same social class as me, which are the Chavez-hating people with college degrees.

The funny thing is, here, if you support the Chavez government, the people who went to the University think you´re a little dumb. I find it interesting that the folks in the US who hate Bush and want to leave the country (like many of my friends) are also the educated class. Though we aren´t quite considered as elite in the US as University-educated folk are "Latin America", we are still in the same global privileged class. It´s sort of like... privilege everywhere, whether left or right, when it doesn´t get what it wants decides to take it´s ball and go home. And of course, we can observe in "Latin America" right now that its the under privileged, those without all those "choices" and "options", who are actually putting their feet down and creating some democracy. Cuz they don´t have any other options, other than escaping to a crappy job in the US.

Anyway, almost everyone to whom I was teaching English either intends to do business with the US, or wants to move to the US to get out of their dangerously left-leaning country. And by the way, yes, they all have lighter skin, enough that people talk to me in Spanish in these neighborhoods. They look just like the people on the TV!

But you´ve heard enough about that from me (though I´m not quite finished writing about it) but it´s time to get some serious work done.

KBOO and I have been fortunate enough to receive a Paul Robeson Fund for Independent Media grant by the Funding Exhange - $5,000 to build a documentary series on the diversity of communities in Central and South America. That is amazing! The difficulty is that I had to split with my partner in order to accept the grant. That makes my work a lot harder, with my level of Spanish. But I have a plan, and I´d like to share it with you - here, on this three-month anniversary of crossing the border at Nogales, AZ.

Goal: to record audio from 10 to 15 communities in "Latin America" and create short 5 to 10 minute audio features highlighting some feature of those communities. Upon return, edit and assemble the features into a 5-part documentary, in both Spanish and English. The pieces will be grouped into themes, which will probably reflect the influence of the US on this vast region. We will try to distribute the documentary, in whole or in part, as widely as possible.

Method: 2 months in Central America has yielded audio from 5 different communities. Because I`m a non-native spanish speaker who is obviously a gringo, success will depend upon my ability to seek out and make relationships with groups whose goals fit this project. The grant allows for 20 weeks of $100 stipends, which will allow me to pay the travel and living expenses for partners who want to assist me.
My resources are:

-- human rights and social justice organizations for interviews and contacts
-- independent media groups and organizations for recruiting partners
-- the World Social Forum in Caracas in late January and make as many contacts as possible.

I will attempt to cover as much ground as I possibly can, but logistics of getting around an entire continent and trying to establish real relationships, and the luck of the contacts that turn up will ultimately form the shape of this work.

I will detail the equipment we are using, and have been using, in another email. Any equipment bought with grant funds will go to KBOO to help develop Spanish News and Public Affairs.

You´ll hear more about the people we meet and organizations we work with, as well as the politics and the realities of "Latin America" as we experience it in the coming months. And, you´ll get bits and pieces of what´s gone on in the past three months, as appropriate... with more reminders that only you (us) - that is, privileged folks from the US - can stop our government before it kills again. With the election of Evo Morales as the first indigenous president of Bolivia, we again get an example of what democracy might look like from the folks who have the least to work with.

here´s an article about Evo Morales, with a good summary of the recent situation in Bolivia.

From the article:

I respect Cuba a lot. When it comes to Che Guevara, our only difference is the
armed struggle--I don't accept armed struggle. Maybe it was the way in the
'50s and '60s, but we want a democratic revolution.

http://www.inthesetimes.com/site/main/article/2438/

Hey, Whitey, Give Me a Peso

2005-12-04T21:00:00.000-08:00

signage in San Salvador... you can almost make out the chain restaurant "Mr. Donut" in the background.

So, I know I need to jump in and defend the use of the term "White Privilege" . I know I need to do that, because I had to think a lot about it before I could use it, or before it hit me quite right. Many of you out there who are reading this and are white-skinned (if there are any left ) or grew up in a "middle class" background in the US - will react to this term. The first response is something like this:

))) The term "White Privilege", doesn´t distinguish between good white people and bad white people.

Good white people, who hate their evil racist government, and bad white people, who support it. Good white people, who have friends from different cultures and read James Baldwin and think women are smarter then men. Bad white people, who believe in traditional families and hate queers; who think children should be spanked and cars should be loud.

My response: You are correct. With respect to privilege, the term doesn´t distinguish between good white people and bad white people. In fact, the people that are "good" white people are generally MORE privileged than the so-called bad white people. Right? The classic untouchable whites are referred to as "white trash". They´re coarse and racist and poor. And, they are economically disadvantaged. They are the flowers that grow in the shit of our system. Their poverty allows us to go to college and become managers.

Everytime you use the phrase "white trash" you are reinforcing your own class standing, and implicitly justifying your right to privilege as a white person. Otherwise, we´d probably just call them trash. Isn´t that sickening?

So, when talking about privilege, don´t forget your own. We are guilty, and we are responsible. The "good" white people, educated, working in social services and owning a house and a car... are more guilty and more responsible. Because however much good they´re doing with their job in the system, they are feeding off the flesh and bones of the rest of the world.

the roofs of a shantytown built over a stream in the middle of a wealthy urban area in San Salvador. Wealthy urban area not shown.

))) The privilege you´re talking about is really Class Privilege, not actually White Privilege.

My Response: Well, you´re right. But when you´re on the ground in Latin America, the rule of thumb used to determine class privilege is skin color.

"Hey, Chele, Dame Un Peso!"

It´s true that there are underprivileged whites. And it´s also true that a lot of people in the US with white skin don´t feel very privileged. But this is an artifact of how the system works in the US. It keeps the lower classes fighting with/competing with the middle classes, leaving the super-rich to govern from their climate-controlled space bubbles.

There is a difference between extraordinary privilege and access (which most people in the US have, relative to the rest of the world), versus unimaginably gigantic privilege and access, which only a small percentage of people have in each culture. And when looking at the effects of inequality on one´s well-being, local relative inequality matters more than global access to privilege. That is, if you are living in a community where everyone makes $100K a year, and your family only makes $50K per year, you´re going to experience the stressors of being poor in that community. In fact, in communities where everyone makes $500 a year, they`re probably more "happy" than most societies in the US, although they probably won´t have hot water and TVs.

I mean, the US is not a happy country, and the medium to upper middle classes are not happy, and apparently you can´t have both moderate financial success and happiness. The super rich are pretty happy, they live a long life, and they have lighter skin. The global poor are pretty happy, but they die young. They have darker skin.

On a global scale, the following statements are true:

the lighter your skin, the more privileges and access you have.
if you have gigantic privilege and access, there´s about a 90% chance you´re white.
and even if you´re not white and you have gigantic privilege and access, you will mostly be working with white people, on a global scale. You will have to be comfortable and conversant in white circles and culture.
relative inequality aside, even a poor white person from the US will have more ability to enter other countries than most other people will ever enjoy, whether or not they ever take advantage of this privilege.

And besides, when you see whose culture is invading nearly every other culture (psychologically, economically, or militarily), the symbol of status and power is white skin. It´s what is beautiful, luxurious. Desirable. When you get on a plane, the people who are decision makers or "educated" will gravitate to you, even if you never went to college.. because even though you thought you were kind of ordinary... you are in the global 10%! They have a laptop too! They have dyed their hair too! And when cut from your cultural moorings, you find that you have more in common than you thought. At least I can talk to this guy. Even though he´s kind of like a Republican.

There´s another reason why it´s better to talk about white privilege than class privilege - because the term class privilege allows white "middle class" or "working class" people to think of themselves as not privileged, just regular people. And that is somewhat true in a local sense, but not from a global perspective. You see, they can still save up for a vacation in the Caribbean someday. And when they do, they will stay at a resort! Just like the rich people! With a pool next to the ocean! Unless they`re unusually adventuresome or foolhardy, they`re not going to be eating lunch where the locals eat, where the regular people eat... where the majority of the world eats - at home.

a roundabout in honor of the great Salvadoran hero, Lord Robert Baden Powell, founder of the Boy Scouts. In the background, the Coke advertisement says "Lucha Por Tus Sueños" - Fight for your dreams.

And what`s weird is that in some way, these folks will think of their vacation as well-deserved, a just reward for years of "hard" work - steady drudgery. As if there was some implication that the people on the other side of the island are receiving their just reward for... for what? For being born in Haiti? For being born in Nicaragua? It´s true that we might have had to work hard, to compete hard to get our job, to get up at the same time day after day. But we hear this idea of people having the choice whether to stay in their social circumstances or change them... but a little travel outside the western world will show you that most of the world doesn´t have a choice. That´s what borders are for - to protect your privilege to one day maybe have a vacation in the Caribbean. If we were to eliminate all the borders, then maybe we could talk a little more about people choosing to stay in their circumstances. After all, we already see a significant number of people doing some incredibly difficult work to improve the conditions of their lives, and we call them "illegals."

So, I guess my point is: look, I call it white privilege, cuz it´s the kind of privilege that accrues to white people mostly. And it´s a racist system that maintains that privilege... we don´t even need a big board room with white guys saying all sorts of racist things, scheming on how to ensure the domination of the white race. It`s built into the system we have. And it won`t just become unracist one day when the children who grew up with the No Child Left Behind Act.

Nope, those of us who receive white privilege must figure out how to use it for good. We need to start the work of dismantling the system that works effortlessly for our benefit. How does that happen?

Trans National

2005-11-23T14:20:00.000-08:00

Well, as you can see from that last post, late in October, I've been encountering some moral and ethical difficulties in doing this work. And I think it's only correct to talk a little bit about that.

You see, if you get what I'm saying in that last post, there is no way for a man to understand what the world looks like from a woman´s point of view without inadvertently flexing oodles of male privilege. And this takes a lot of forms. One of them is that women - I´m told - just act differently when a man is in the room.. and part of that is that the man is unable to resist his urge to give advice, ask provocative questions, talk over and interrupt... it throws off the entire conversational dynamic. It has nothing to do with whether the man is right or wrong.. it´s that he doesn´t know how to talk without playing the competition card.

A more subtle form is socialization with respect to "Female Beauty". When a man is in the room, he acts differently towards different women depending on their attractiveness. And women, whether they consciously reject it, or subconsciously respond to it... it affects the dynamic. Women are generally aware of their level of beauty, and it impacts women-only groups as well.. but when there´s a man there with his attention hanging out for all to see, it´s a distraction to the bonding that goes on with women alone.

Many men will find that a journey into the world of feminist activism sounds exciting. Many of you may have tried organizing with women yourselves. But you see, if I tell the stories in a way that romanticizes the experience, you might think it´s appropriate for you to join women´s groups and work with them to organize for more gender equality. Or that somehow, you have learned enough from my experience to think you can just waltz in and start telling women how to be feminists.

What I hear over and over again is:

Do you think we need a man to protect us and help us figure out how to get organized and support each other? Why don´t you go find a group of men and show them how to work more respectfully with women, maybe find other ways to burn off their aggression or massage their egos besides coming into our groups and unconsciously bossing us around?

Besides, then I´d be responsible for more "sensitive daddies" entering women´s groups and haplessly reinforcing their privilege, only to go back home, manipulate their wives, cheat on their girlfriends, or ask their secretaries make them coffee, supporting the system that makes this man´s world possible.

You want facts? Soon, there will be facts. There are plenty of facts for everyone. You can even have seconds. But while you're waiting, try Riane Eisler´s "The Chalice and the Blade".

You want photos? Well, I have them. But photos are presenting even a bigger ethical challenge, because they don't tell the whole story, and well, it just feels wrong to photograph strong women. Yes, it can and has been effective in changing opinions. But there is a price to pay for those images. The way images of women are used in society is a big enough problem as it is.

Now, obviously it's true, that the answer can't be to continue allowing men to remain unaware. We're one of the most unaware genders ever, especially given the resources we have available.

What I'm questioning is whether writing this blog and creating stories for community radio is the best way to work with women to destroy a system that institutionalizes gender inequality in favor of males.

And so, what you see here and hear from me in the future, will reflect this deep uncertainty. And you men can help alleviate it, by organizing other groups of men and showing them their unconscious sexism. Now.

Choosing To Struggle

2005-11-16T09:33:00.001-08:00

If you read the post from late October, The Face of the Conqueror, you´ll know that what is going on for me is serious stuff; it´s threatening the entire way I think about the work that I do and what it means to build a movement or work to effect systemic change.

That piece is part of a couple of pieces that I have to write before I can really move on:

the difficulties with bridge-building across cultures
the role and responsibility of privilege in an unbalanced world
maintaining cultural integrity while allowing for integration
how a white male from the US can be a true partner in the struggle for justice

And that´s not even to get to the problems with doing journalism. It´s big stuff. I mean, I know you, reader, probably talk with your friends and your siblings about white privilege all the time - maybe if you´re black. But it´s not something you see on OPB. I´ve lived as a white progressive for most of my life, and I know. White people don´t talk about white privilege - most of us vigorously deny it exists... there are some honest, but creepy, folks who claim it as their birthright. We call these folks white supremecists. But most white folks, if they´re like average people, are too caught up in their daily grind of work and consumption that they´ll just laugh in your face if you say they´re privileged. White liberals and progressives will usually vigorously deny that there is any white privilege, especially for them in particular. But talk to organizers in the black and brown communities, and you´ll probably hear something a little different.

Tourists inpecting inexpensive pearls at the Guaymas Pearl Farm. Guaymas, Mexico

If you´re like me, you´d probably be thinking about what I´ve just written, maybe trying to find a response. Maybe you should stop thinking, and fucking start crying about the blood spilled to give you cheap lettuce.

Florida tourists at the Guaymas Pearl Farm.

We white progressives talk about justice and unjustice... but we act like this is something that is separate from the air we breathe and food we eat. It´s simply another conversational choice, another lifestyle choice -

"Daddy, there´s so much injustice, I need to make a change in the world."
"Darling, don´t you think studying law would be a little more practical?"

"The artist must elect to fight for freedom or for slavery. I have made my choice. I had no alternative. " - Paul Robeson

If you can choose to fight against injustice and inequality, that is privilege. That is, broadly speaking, White Privilege.

Mexican workers at the Guaymas Pearl Farm.

=======================
Next: Why it´s "white" privilege

No Place Like Home

2005-11-05T14:49:00.000-08:00

Well, as you can see from that last post, late in October, I've been encountering some moral and ethical difficulties in doing this work. And I think it's only correct to talk a little bit about that.

You see, if you get what I'm saying in that last post, there is no way for a US citizen to come down to "Latin America" without flexing oodles of privilege. And this takes a lot of forms. The ease of crossing borders is one of them, one that I appreciate in a much different way when moving with a Bolivian national. They let me right through, but him - they treat him with suspicion. And maybe you can't blame them. When was the last time a Bolivian national without a suit was in Belize? It just doesn't happen. And yet, there's certainly a way of thinking about it that suggests he has far more right to cross that border than I do.

A more subtle form is the inexorable, brainwashing flood of images of White Beauty. Every ad, every magazine... every image available reinforces a euro/gringa standard of beauty. Women in the US will understand the power of popular imagery to undercut women's perception of themselves and their worth. But here, not only do we have the same standard of unrealistic beauty, they don't even look like they come from your country. I don't know.. if you ask me, it's not even subtle. It's outright browbeating: you are not smart. you are not beautiful. you will never be worthy.

graffiti on a wall in Santiago Ixcuintla, Nayarit, Mexico

I could say a lot more about how the cards are stacked in my favor - your favor - but I've been doing that a lot, and there's something to explain before I start talking about what's been going on in this project, the people we've met, what we've discovered in Central America.

> Many readers will find that a journey through Latin America sounds exciting. And many of you will have the resources to mount one - or perhaps you already have. But you see, if I tell the stories in a way that romanticizes our experience, you'll want to come down here and see it for yourself. But what I hear over and over again is:

Haven't you seen enough? Go home and change the policies of your country!

And then, I'll be responsible for more vacationing gringos coming down and haplessly reinforcing their privilege, only to go back home and support the system that makes all this glorious inequality possible.

You want facts? Soon, there will be facts. There are plenty of facts for everyone. You can even have seconds. But while you're waiting, try Eduardo Galeano's "The Open Veins of Latin America".

You want photos? Well, we have them. But photos are presenting even a bigger ethical challenge, because they don't tell the whole story, and well, it just feels wrong to photograph starving kids. Yes, it can and has been effective in changing opinions. I mean, our gov't won't allow us to see Iraq caskets.. they know that images will change hearts and minds. But there is a price to pay for those images. It's different for us to photograph a dead US soldier's casket than a starving child.

Now, obviously it's true, that the answer can't be to continue allowing US citizens to remain unaware. We're one of the most unaware countries ever, especially given the resources we have available. What I'm questioning is whether writing this blog and creating stories for community radio is the best way to develop systemic change.

And so, what you see here and hear from us in the future, will reflect this deep uncertainty. And you can help alleviate it, by organizing in your community. Now.

The Face of the Conqueror

2005-10-22T15:06:00.000-07:00

If you´re reading this post in your native language, and your skin is white - like mine - thank you for joining me in this unusual and difficult task of destroying that empire that is partially responsible for our existence. We have a lot of work to do.

Because it´s kind of over - the western powers, the USA/Great Britain corporate axis has largely acheived World Ownership. Our cultures can move vast amounts of resources over great distances in a short period of time. Our governments can pull the strings of nearly any nation - create domestic and global policy to suit "our" interests. And when that doesn´t work, we roll the tanks.

You, if you´re a white English speaker, particularly if you grew up in the US, are on the team with the Highest Score Ever. No matter how vegetarian you are; how much dope you smoke; how sensitive you are or how spiky your hair is... no matter how much you love nature; how easily you are moved to tears at others´suffering; how much you go to church or how often you ride your bike or elect not to shower or plant native plants or have friends from differing cultural backgrounds...

No matter how many of these things you do, if you´re white and speak English and live in the USA, you represent The Conqueror to many, though most won´t use this term.

Even if you don´t think of yourself as the conqueror type - even if you hate America and Freedom (for all the right reasons, too) - on a global scale, you still receive the privileges of the conqueror.

Your passport will take you across just about any border... Of Course! Make sure you have enough dollars to spend. People will marry you just to cross your border. People risk their lives, and lose them, trying to get to your country - even when several members of their family have already died. But you cross this border freely, and they fling open the doors of their shops and their homes and roll out the red carpets (why are they red?) and they will say, "Come in, come in!". But they will cross your border and they will die.

And if they don´t die, you will not offer them a room in your house and wash their laundry and speak their language to them and cook them three meals and take them to the mayor of your town and tell them how amazing they are and ask them how they travelled so far and what their hometown is like. No. You will not.

No. They will be shot at and jailed and made fun of, and live in perpetual fear of deportation. They will pick your strawberries for $15 a day, and send half of that back home. They will live 10 in a one-room apartment with no water. and, they will pay into your social security. When was the last time you thanked an "illegal" immigrant for paying into your social security, for paying taxes in a system from which they, increasingly, will not receive a single benefit?

Most of all, you will find, down here in Latin America - AmerIndia - that all of the sacred sites of indigenous people are a disneyland for gringos. Very few indians left on the sites that proclaim their astounding, and almost completely destroyed, cultures.

And maybe you´ll come with your spiritual leanings or historical interest or anthropological curiosity... or even in penance for the murderous crimes of your forbears. And when you get there, you will see that it is roped off for you now. It´s all yours. Go ahead. Take it.

Stolen, for you, even though you didn´t want it. When you visit the ruins of an indigenous culture, you can ask: do you visit to honor the cultures the conquistadores destroyed; or do you come to pay tacit tribute to the empire whose foundations were set in the blood at these sites?

And maybe you´ll decide it´s just better to not have to ask this question, and stay home.

The Emperor has slain the "heathens" and taken their gold - and now, he offers it to you, to win your affection, to prove his allegiance to you, insouciant child. And if you accept his gifts gladly, you are with the conquerors. If you reject his blood reward, you negate your privilege, but it still exists - you are in denial. If you accept the Man´s gifts while hating the deeds, you are a hypocrite, and a traitor to both sides... an opportunist, a gold-digger.

If, however, you strike out in rage at the man with blood on his hands who dares to act in your name to bring you the spoils of a genocide you never wanted... is there any other way to be human?

This is what I´m experiencing - from Managua, Nicaragua

A World Without Gringos

2005-10-15T12:57:00.000-07:00

It´s been a month now since I quit my job, trying to figure out a way to take this massive privilege and turn it into something useful, for chrissakes. While it wasn´t a surprise, but this whole cross-cultural bridge-building thing has its ups and downs, for sure. I know that we´re developing thick callouses from climbing a pretty steep learning curve.

I just left San Miguel de Allende, an attractive small puebla with a very european seeming center. A european seeming center that, for all practical purposes, is owned by North Americans, whom you will, on occasion, hear referred to as "gringos".

It´s like the globalization of gentrification, and oddly, I had never once considered that gringos might own a whole town. I don´t know why I didn´t... I mean, I´ve thought of N. Americans buying large tracts of land, and I´ve thought of them invading as haplessly destructive tourists...but buying the town?

It has caused me to reflect, more than once, over the four days or so that I was there, that probably just opening up the borders to everyone would have complicated results. I´m not saying I changed my mind or anything.. and I definitely think.. if large companies have a free hand at moving across borders, seeking the cheapest labor market they can find, then certainly people should be able to move across borders... at least level the playing field a bit.

But now I know part of what would happen - gringos by the score - probably artsy or intellectual types who already hate America anyway - would flock to buy the cheap land and set up their little intentional communities. Meanwhile, Mexicans who previously might have died trying to find a better job en el otro lado would suddenly be free to seek work wherever their skills were better valued, and there would be a mad influx of immigrants into theUS.. at least until labor markets restabilized themselves.

And then I think.. if all the gringos left the states, and all the immigrants took over the US, would it be so bad? It probably would, but it would be nice to kick all the gringos out of the US, we don´t want them there, either.

Mediacracy: KPUP 100.5 FM - Patagonia

2005-10-04T20:53:00.000-07:00

Our first radio station: KPUP in Patagonia, AZ.

Patagonia is an odd little town - about 800 people, maybe, an hour or so southeast of Tucson. Another one of those artsy small communities which are way more common in the US than I ever realized. Kinda progressive - especially for Arizona - and mostly white, just like other "progressive" communities. Although, in many ways, my values match those of what´s considered progressive in the US, I´m starting to develop a critical view of this on racial/cultural grounds. Maybe organic food, collective decision making, and biodiesel powered motorcycles are, you know, the vision of the future society and stuff. But two things are true:

you don´t find marginalized groups subscribing to this value set (except in small ways, when it makes sense for them) - whether in the US, or in other countries.

and you don´t find too many members of marginalized groups hanging around the progressive enclaves... often, the more progressive, the more white.

It makes me think that it just might be more important to figure out how to get right with being white before worrying too much about buying organic plastics. The progressive value set seems to express privilege first (without even trying), before expressing its other values.

right, so I was talking about KPUP in Patagonia. A little one lane town, with a surprisingly decorated pub/nightclub and a sister business, the velvet elvis pizzeria. There´s also an organic cafe and spa type place. Not what I was expecting at all. And now there´s a little radio station too. Wil Hadly is running the joint, and by the time of this writing, should be broadcasting. Wil sent out a cry for help, which is what encouraged me to contact him... but he was looking for some folks more Prometheus style - like engineers. But since we were close anyway, just thought we´d stop by.

a boxy building squatting in the middle of a desert... but they had their board up, and they had made their first successful broadcast, and that made them eligible for FCC license. We took a few photos, and we´ll have them up in a few days. The fellows were friendly, and were open about their perspectives on immigration. KPUP said they were interested in being a sister station with a Latin American station, especially since there are a apparently a lot of spanish speakers around (none of whom I saw), but their main goal is to promote a little bit of that progressive culture in their local town, maybe get a little live music on the air.

I couldn´t find a direct website for them, but there´s plenty of information on the internet if you google KPUP Patagonia.

(written from an internet cafe in Santiago Ixcuintla, Nayarit, Mex)

Road Scholar: Calexico

2005-09-25T12:32:00.000-07:00

So, I'm still trying to figure out the best way to manage journaling on the road. Clearly, finding internet access and power is going to be key. But even once I do, I find myself having a difficult time figuring out what the tone of my posts should be... there's lots to say, but which story is important? Espcially, like, a week into this journey (the time lag on the date of this post is significant), and we've covered a lot of ground, and I don't always have time to journal before we've gone further on. And then there's the actual stories that we're pursuing, which don't mesh well with the more personal accounts of the journey.

My solution for now is to have several kinds of posts. "Road Scholar" posts will be more personal and first person, talking about the journey itself, and may not be that timely, but will generally be geographically oriented, or refer to specific people or events. "Mediacracy" posts will mostly be about specific radio stations that we visit. Other posts will be more journalistic, sort of editorals or opinion pieces. And as soon as I can figure it out, we'll have the audio up, which will be bona fide news stories. Or not.

Calexico: After San Diego, our entourage spent the night of Sept 17th in this mid sized border town, with Mexicali on the other side. We attended a rally and march which featured a hundred people on both sides of the border, meeting at that metal wall, and pounding on both sides, even climbing up the fence and straddling it 20 feet up. Volleyball over the border. The border patrol is very present, but actually kind of nice in this town.

A funny thing about the "delete the border" event: half of the people weren't from the area. And even though their ideas and organizing techniques were correct, in my estimation, their lack of connection to the people in the area caused some problems which I believe were unnecessary.

For instance: after the march, we were all gathered in the park. The mayor of Calexico, reportedly, is so supportive of the anti-vigilante camp that he waived the permitting process to allow the gathering to take place on short notice. Suddenly, there's a lot of commotion "let him go, let him go!" and a number of police are gathering facing a group of activists. While it was nowhere near out of hand, the group was definitely getting agitated over a young kid who'd been pulled out of the park bathroom and detained for graffiti (I didn't see any graffiti in the bathroom myself). And the police, became numerous - about 20 of them lined up.

We eventually heard that the kid, a local, was let go. His sister was there, and she was visibly upset that this was going down. Activists were calling the brown-skinned police officers traitors. What's uncomfortable about this, is that people I spoke to who are locals don't find much fault with their police force or border patrol. Now, I can't weigh in myself.. perhaps these informants of mine were there to make us feel like the cops were good and just go away. But that's the point: when we move into another community to agitate for change "for them" - or, at their request.. we need to make connections in the community first.. otherwise, we might just be another group of know-it-alls moving in and imposing our vision on local people.

Another example: later in the evening, planning for actions was going on, and the dominant mood was to group up, get organized, and go out and find cazainmigrantes. Organizing non-hierarchical groups is always hard, and models like the "affinity group" system.. where people stay in small groups that they trust, and representatives for those groups come together and figure out a plan of action that keeps everyone in their comfort zone. It's a pretty good model, and prevents people from feeling subject to the tyranny of the majority.. which doesn't work anyway, because in a decentralized model, if four friends don't want to do action X, they just won't.

A wonderful part of this event was that the activists and radicals from out of town were in solidarity with the locals. But the locals were not radicals, for the most part.. they're people who have had enough of the fear that their family members will be hunted by white racists.

When it came time to make a decision, most of the locals wanted to go out to a place called Jacumba.. word was that a small group of vigilantes were harrassing folks in that area. Many of us unacquainted with the scene were like, let's go! But the out of towners (correctly, in my opinion) didn't want to just see the whole group commandeered to drive 20 miles away, possibly leaving Calexico open to an invasion of migrant hunters.

So, the very dedicated and competent facilitators from out of town, who had done a lot of planning, were trying to get the group to agree to the affinity group model, so we could go do something in a coordinated way. One of the locals became frustrated with this, and proposed to put the matter to a vote - if majority says "yea", we all go to Jacumba. Admittedly, this was kind of a naive proposition. And the facilitators did a good job trying to explain: if a group of people wanted to go to Jacumba, they are an affinity group, they should go - and can't you just wait a few more minutes so you'll know what everyone else is doing? But eventually, the locals just felt stalled, so they left; and the out-of-towners felt like the locals weren't acknowledging the significant planning that had already gone on.

In the end, nothing happened in Jacumba, and nothing happened in Calexico, so I guess we all made the right choices. It seems to me that the lesson is to make sure you're coordinating your planning with a local when getting together an out of town action group. Work like this requires trust more than truth - even if you're "right", coming into an area and helping people without taking into consideration how they want to be helped can come close to imposing your vision. And haven't we had enough of that?

A Civilized Slavery

2005-09-25T12:08:00.000-07:00

I'm starting to get the picture that this whole immigration thing is a little subtler than it seems at first. Over and over, people are saying, if la migra wanted to stop unauthorized migrant work, they would go to all the restaurants, agricultural fields, janitorial services, day labor markets, and round them up. I'm continually reminded: companies have no incentive to stop the flow of cheap labor from Mexico - and increasingly, further south - into the united states.

The vigilantes are another anomaly. While there are a few outspoken advocates of private militias at the border, they aren't well organized, and they never show up. This happened to us in Calexico, where we were to confront cazainmigrantes - migrant head hunters. There were two hundred people in town to show their disapproval, and hunt the hunters themselves. But we didn't spot any, there was almost no presence, and the communications of the so-called "Friends of the Border Patrol" were secretive and confusing. In Arizona, there was a lot of bluster, but mostly it was a few dozen unarmed retirees sitting in lawn chairs near the border with binoculars. It makes me think that, whether conspiracy or naivete, there is no organized militia activity on any significant scale. It seems like it's for show - as if a hastily organized deception scheme wanted people to think that the right wing really wants to stop immigration.. this is convenient for the racists, because they need somewhere to focus their fear; and an effective way of focusing progressive\radical energy in a dirction that is completely useless.

No. this administration, wants to keep the cheap labor coming... and they've found an effective, darwinian way to keep the population under control: make them run the gauntlet. Those who succeed are rewarded with a low-paying job with no benefits, and they contribute to our tax base through federal deductions they'll never receive. And this group remains fearful, they don't get organized because they can't risk what they've already given up so much for: the chance at a better life.

How can we have more undocumented migrants coming through the borders, more dying in the desert, more trying and failing, more border patrol, and more money being spent? Coyotes make some money moving people across the border. It appears to be an industry. And in order for an illegal industry to function on a wide scale, you've got a few crooked people on the inside.

Maybe. We'll see what we can find out.

El Grito - The Scream

2005-09-20T11:21:00.000-07:00

I learned something new recently. In nautical terminology, "shore power" is used to refer to plugging into electrical sources when a boat is in port. When the boat is out to sea, there's electricity stored in batteries, and, just like a car, the running engines recharge the batteries.

What I learned was that this nautical terminology is becoming used for travel with computers on batteries. So, when I'm on the road, I use my battery power, and when I finally get somewhere where I can plug in, I have "shore power". And, this feels right - it also feels appropriate for finding a wireless connection, like I've hit shore, and I'm kind of free floating otherwise.

I'm at Bentley's coffee and tea in Tucson AZ. Naturally, all plans have morphed into a reality that barely resembles them, but things are going well. Until Sept 29th, when we actually start this trip, I'll be catching up with reflections over the past several months planning this project. I think this is important if folks want to avoid our mistakes.

The friends of the border patrol in California claimed to start their activity on Sept. 16th, Mexican Independence Day. And we started our trip on that day too.

The plan: Pick up Judy, fellow KBOO volunteer, at the airport Thursday night, 15th. She's just coming back from San Miguel de Allende, MX. She has contacts and information for us. We grab a quick bite, share information, and Bartolina and I are off to bed by 10 pm.. we'll shove all of our stuff in bags and get ready for Lisa to come and get us at 530 am.

the reality: Judy's plane is late, and we don't arrive at the bar until nearly 10pm. Bartolina brings his sister, brother in law, and their child to the bar, where she can't be, of course.. we talk for quite a while, and others visit us. we leave the bar at about 130 am. It's after 2 before we reach Kara's apartment, so we just decide to pack and get organized and stay up. a difficult decision, but there's just no other way. I catch a second wind (bartolina and I already were up at 530 am the night before to go to the carpenter's strike), and get everything taken care of... until about 430 am.. and I can't find my passport wallet. So typical. I had just seen it an hour before. Lisa arrives on time, still can't find it. unpack, repack, it's nowhere. finally, we start taking things down one by one, still no sign... now I'm tired and worried. Lisa picks up the final bag of stuff, and there it is, underneath. Departure: 530 am. Not bad, considering.

Lunch in Roseburg at Tom Tom's required only a single bloody mary for the driver. The place was oregon - handwritten gun show notice on the front door, a half full bar at 9am on a friday morning. Bartolina smirked at the Indian reference in the restaurant name, and the white clientele who would be the ideological descendents of Indian hunters.

After losing an hour, we agree to press hard. All of us are tired, but Lisa got four hours of sleep; Barto 2, and I got none. Lisa pulled an amazing shift from 5am to 2pm. After a nap in the back seat, I picked up the slack from somewhere north of Sacramento, through to that weird hilly windy area - Gustine. Lisa picks it up again, ferrying us all the way into Solana Beach where Kara's family is on the last night of their vacation. Arrival time: 130 am. Driving time: 20 hours.

The ocean was lovely. The sleep was insufficient. Our metaphorical scream for libertad was a yawn.

next: Calexico\Mexicali

A Moment of Silence

2005-09-11T15:38:00.000-07:00

September 11, 2002
by Emmanuel Ortiz

Before I start this poem, I'd like to ask you to join me
In a moment of silence
In honour of those who died in the World Trade Center and the Pentagon last September 11th. I would also like to ask you To offer up a moment of silence For all of those who have been harassed, imprisoned, disappeared,
tortured, raped, or killed in retaliation for those strikes, For the victims in both Afghanistan and the US

And if I could just add one more thing...

A full day of silence
For the tens of thousands of Palestinians who have died at the hands of US-backed Israeli forces over decades of occupation. Six months of silence for the million and-a-half Iraqi people, mostly children, who have died of malnourishment or starvation as a result of an 11-year US embargo against the country.

Before I begin this poem,

Two months of silence for the Blacks under Apartheid in South Africa, Where homeland security made them aliens in their own country. Nine months of silence for the dead in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Where death rained down and peeled back every layer of concrete, steel, earth and skin And the survivors went on as if alive. A year of silence for the millions of dead in Vietnam - a people, not a war - for those who know a thing or two about the scent of burning fuel, their relatives' bones buried in it, their babies born of it. A year of silence for the dead in Cambodia and Laos, victims of a secret war .... ssssshhhhh.... Say nothing ... we don't want them to learn that they are dead. Two months of silence for the decades of dead in Colombia, Whose names, like the corpses they once represented, have piled up and slipped off our tongues.

Before I begin this poem.

An hour of silence for El Salvador ...
An afternoon of silence for Nicaragua ...
Two days of silence for the Guatemaltecos ...
None of whom ever knew a moment of peace in their living years. 45 seconds of silence for the 45 dead at Acteal, Chiapas 25 years of silence for the hundred million Africans who found their graves far deeper in the ocean than any building could poke into the sky. There will be no DNA testing or dental records to identify their remains. And for those who were strung and swung from the heights of sycamore trees in the south, the north, the east, and the west...

100 years of silence...

For the hundreds of millions of indigenous peoples from this half of right here,
Whose land and lives were stolen,
In postcard-perfect plots like Pine Ridge, Wounded Knee, Sand Creek, Fallen Timbers, or the Trail of Tears. Names now reduced to innocuous magnetic poetry on the refrigerator of our consciousness ...

So you want a moment of silence?
And we are all left speechless
Our tongues snatched from our mouths
Our eyes stapled shut
A moment of silence
And the poets have all been laid to rest
The drums disintegrating into dust.

Before I begin this poem,
You want a moment of silence
You mourn now as if the world will never be the same
And the rest of us hope to hell it won't be.
Not like it always has been.

Because this is not a 9/11 poem.
This is a 9/10 poem,
It is a 9/9 poem,
A 9/8 poem,
A 9/7 poem
This is a 1492 poem.

This is a poem about what causes poems like this to be written. And if this is a 9/11 poem, then: This is a September 11th poem for Chile, 1971. This is a September 12th poem for Steven Biko in South Africa, 1977. This is a September 13th poem for the brothers at Attica Prison, New York, 1971.

This is a September 14th poem for Somalia, 1992.

This is a poem for every date that falls to the ground in ashes This is a poem for the 110 stories that were never told The 110 stories that history chose not to write in textbooks The 110 stories that CNN, BBC, The New York Times, and Newsweek ignored. This is a poem for interrupting this program.

And still you want a moment of silence for your dead?
We could give you lifetimes of empty:
The unmarked graves
The lost languages
The uprooted trees and histories
The dead stares on the faces of nameless children
Before I start this poem we could be silent forever
Or just long enough to hunger,
For the dust to bury us
And you would still ask us
For more of our silence.

If you want a moment of silence
Then stop the oil pumps
Turn off the engines and the televisions
Sink the cruise ships
Crash the stock markets
Unplug the marquee lights,
Delete the instant messages,
Derail the trains, the light rail transit.

If you want a moment of silence, put a brick through the window of Taco Bell, And pay the workers for wages lost. Tear down the liquor stores, The townhouses, the White Houses, the jailhouses, the Penthouses and the Playboys.

If you want a moment of silence,
Then take it
On Super Bowl Sunday,
The Fourth of July
During Dayton's 13 hour sale
Or the next time your white guilt fills the room where my beautiful
people have gathered.

You want a moment of silence
Then take it NOW,
Before this poem begins.
Here, in the echo of my voice,
In the pause between goosesteps of the second hand,
In the space between bodies in embrace,
Here is your silence.
Take it.
But take it all... Don't cut in line.
Let your silence begin at the beginning of crime. But we, Tonight we will keep right on singing... For our dead.

EMMANUEL ORTIZ, 11 Sep 2002

Emmanuel Ortiz is a third-generation Chicano/Puerto Rican/Irish-American community organizer and spoken word poet residing in Minneapolis, MN. He is the author of a chapbook of poems, The Word is a Machete, and his poetry has appeared in numerous publications, including two books published in Australia: Open Boat - Barbed Wire Sky (Live Poets' Press) an anthology of poems to aid refugees and asylum-seekers, and Passion for Peace: Exercising Power Creatively (UNSW Press). His poetry will also appear in the forthcoming FreedomBook, an anthology of writings in support of Puerto Rican political prisoners. He currently serves on the board of directors for the Minnesota Spoken Word Association, and is the coordinator of Guerrilla Wordfare, a Twin Cities-based grassroots project bringing together artists of color to address socio-political issues and raise funds for progressive organizing in communities of color through art as a tool of social change.

El Filo de la Frontera

2005-09-10T16:27:00.000-07:00

We're less than a week away from our departure from Portland, OR. Our friend Lisa, former KBOO volunteer, has offered to ferry us from the Northwest to the Southwest. We'll be leaving at about 5 am on Friday 16 Sept, and trying to make it all the way to San Diego in one day.

Though it seems almost incomprehensible, 16 hours - we will try to make it in a day. From there, to Calexico\Mexicali for "delete the border". While Bartolina and I have chosen Mexican Independence Day (Sept 16th, 1810) to initiate our cross-cultural bridge building, the Friends of the Border Patrol have chosen the same day to launch their "Border Watch". We'll show up there on the 17th, and collect audio.

http://www.deletetheborder.org/

Definition: cazainmigrantes - a person who hunts immigrants.

The timing is evocative. This is the perfect way to begin this expedition - from the end. A lot comes to an end at La Frontera del Norte. Cultures, values, economics, and lives. They are powerful places, geographic atherosclerosis. But like most conditions of this world, these hardened arteries have a greater effect on the poor than others. Over 130 deaths have been reported in the Arizona desert this year. My mother lives in Tucson, where I grew up. I was horrified to hear her exclaim, in frustration, "those people are stupid!" She means to refer, of course, to the high risk of death for crossing the Sonora desert - but it's painful to hear her say that.

It's a more complicated issue than stupidity. The question I return to is: If industry can move across borders at will, why can't people? In 1994, NAFTA opened up the borders for global trade. That has permitted maquiladoras to proliferate along the border, and brought people from further south up north to get jobs. It only makes sense for a company to move it's operations to Mexico, right? Fewer regulations, lower wages, limited labor rights, bigger paychecks for the company.

So, how is it that we can blame people for making the same decision? Would the minutemen advocate the elimination of maquilas because they export profits out of Mexico? NAFTA (and CAFTA, the Central American Free Trade Agreement) squeezes the people of Mexico and Central America up against the border...

In the 1990's, the US implemented a new tough border policy, focusing on the major arterials - San Ysidro, El Paso, Nogales. Cameras, surveillance planes, and a doubling of agents in the major areas... our borders are tougher, all right. But oddly, the number of immigrants entering each year has doubled since then, the number of arrests has doubled.. and the number dying in the desert.. well, it just didn't use to happen that way at all. 1998 was the first year the Border patrol kept track - 28 died that year, and that freaked people out. We're at 130 in Arizona this year. I'm glad we're counting, there's a lot of counting to do.

Oh, and the cost - about $480 million adjusted $$ in the 90s, and now? $1.4 billion per year.

NAFTA and Tough Borders - more expensive, deadlier, and less effective by any measure.

CAFTA Passes House

2005-07-28T08:03:00.000-07:00

Today, the House passed CAFTA by a 2-vote margin, and given the amount of time Bush spent on Capitol Hill, it'll be law. This is a good thing or a bad thing depending on whether you are a corporation or not. If you are a corporation, this gives you the opportunity to take your company to Nicaragua - even if the laws of Nicaragua would have outlawed your labor practices, your pollution record, or your cheap goods which undermine the country's economy.

If you are a farmer or producer in, say, Nicaragua, you are at increased risk of losing your land or being unable to sell your goods. If you are a pregnant woman willing to take a low-wage job, your chances of employment have increased - temporarily. That's until the cheap labor force gets more expensive, and the company decides to move somewhere else.

And, if you are a producer in the US, you will now have to compete with extremely cheap labor.

If you are a radio producer looking for injustice in Latin America, however, you'll have plenty to do over the next few years.

It's so obvious: if you want to promote a free market, and one of your definitions is to permit capital to move across borders, fine! Just fling open the borders to actual people too - then you'll see labor and production really free to seek the markets they need.

That's how clearly biased "free trade" is in favor of Big Capital. And just think of all the government services we could cut if we didn't need a Migra.

Chicago Tribune article 7/28/05

An Insane and Noble Plan

2005-07-27T08:16:00.000-07:00

Thanks for visiting our website and blog! This is where you can read about the adventures of Bartolina Sisa and Patrik Angstrom Poore as we travel throughout Central and South America.

We will post often so that our experiences working together as multicultural, cross-border organizers can be shared with many to create un america libre and work toward real justice for all.

Visit often!

patrik