Snapshots from Panama: Descent to Emptiness

plastic Buddha found washed up on the beach

September 2010

Descent to Emptiness

As the plane flew into the rainstorm I began to fidget in my seat. Only moments ago the rugged coastline of Panama’s Darien Gap had been visible on final approach to Jaque. I nervously pondered landing in zero visibility.

The copilot was a young woman who looked like a teenager—the cushion she sat on still didn’t elevate her forehead above the control panel. I had snapped photos of her earlier to show the students.

I always make a point not to drink much before these flights, but was beginning to regret the sole cup of coffee I had that morning. I was the only passenger on the plane but still would have been self-conscious using a plastic bag for an emergency pee break—a tactic I resorted to once during a long bus trip as a Peace Corps volunteer.

However my personal drama quickly ended as we dipped below the clouds and were safely deposited on the ground. There was no welcoming committee as family and friends never heard the plane land in the rain. It’s best to start out here with disappointment. High expectations can lead to a quick downfall.

One of my favorite endings to a book comes in Peter Matthiessen’s “The Snow Leopard.” After spending several months on an expedition with a group of Sherpa guides, he arranges to meet up with one of them named Tukten upon returning to Katmandu. A devout Buddhist, Tukten was also a scoundrel at times, getting into fights and trying to steal from others.

In Matthiessens’s eyes Tukten seems to redeem himself and their friendship strengthens. He decides to help Tukten find a job as a head trekking guide back in Katmandu despite others’ objections that he is too unreliable. Matthiessen arrives at the appointed meeting place on the outskirts of Katmandu but Tukten is nowhere in sight. Near a Buddhist temple where Tukten said he stayed with a relative no one has ever heard of him. The book’s final line, “Under the Bodhi Eye, I get on my bicycle again and return along gray December roads to Katmandu.”

Once I helped a former student who had moved to Panama City get a small scholarship from a foundation to finish high school there. He was an excellent student and seemed destined to go places. However after a few months he quit collecting the scholarship money. No one has heard from him since.

The High Seas of the Classroom

The original group of older students we began working with two years ago are gone, the first to finish high school in Jaque. Now I sorely miss them and struggle with the current student body of adolescents. There is one particular tenth grader who is always attentive and helpful, a life preserver in the stormy seas.

For my first class this year about half the students showed up and half of them tried to walk out shortly after. They hesitated at the door waiting to see how I would react. I asked if there was a problem which drew no response and they finally returned to their seats.

Last week several of the 10^th grade boys tried out the school’s inflatable kayaks in the ocean. Two boys headed out too far, got swamped by a big wave, and were so shaken up by the experience they wouldn’t go back out. Then a large wave slammed into my kayak shoving my paddle into my lower lip causing a bloody mess. The next kayak clinic will be on the river.

For the third year we watched a documentary at the school about the life of Chilean singer-songwriter Victor Jara on the anniversary of his assassination in Chile on Sept. 16, 1973. The students grew restless about halfway through so I decided to switch to another movie and show the rest of the Jara documentary the following day.

I had shown “Sleep Dealer,” (a remarkable film—a kind of Blade Runner on the U.S.-MX border) to inmates at the Mexican prison where I help facilitate Alternatives to Violence workshops. One inmate, Pedro, an AVP regular, asked me to loan him the DVD which he returned it at the annual graduation ceremony last June.

Pedro spoke at the ceremony and stated that “one must always use transforming power in every situation, all the time.” Transforming power is the AVP concept which simply means trying to act in a way that will turn a negative situation into a more positive one. Pedro’s was the best speech of the day and I’ve thought of it often.

So I pull “Sleep Dealer” out of the case and pop it in to show the students. Then an entirely different movie begins playing, some blurry pirated film I’d never seen. I had not opened the case since Pedro returned it. I ejected the unknown movie and put it back in the box.

Snapshots from the Isthmus

Many of the local indigenous people make me think of the Sherpa culture I’ve read about in the Himalayas —always doing every task with great enthusiasm and a sense of humor. Roberto lives in a village upriver and seems to be doing something for the benefit of the entire community all the time. You usually find Abelares “rozando” or cutting the grass around town with a machete—a human lawn mower. His incredibly muscular body has led to the nickname, “el gigante” (the giant) though he is of short stature.

One of my favorite students, 25-year-old Jhon, didn’t return to school this year for his last semester and no one had news of him. Jhon was always the first to volunteer for any task at hand. Out of the blue I got a call from him. He’s working in Panama City and doing fine. Last year he was often flat broke with two young kids to feed. The last time I saw Jhon was on a field trip last Jan. to the Smithsonian marine museum. Many of the photos taken that day show him proudly displaying the 20 dollar bill given as a travel stipend.

Our grandmother graduate, Olga, is doing well and continues her little tortilla business. She’s planning to start raising chickens for extra cash.

It’s now been three years since the death of one of Jaque’s most unforgettable people, Tito, who had Down Syndrome but was extremely intelligent and performed political speeches with exaggerated hand motions making unintelligible noises the whole time. The act was hilarious and reminded me of Cantinflas satirizing politicians. When not performing, Tito pushed a heavy metal cart around town collecting aluminum cans with a group of kids in tow.

Felipe is mentally challenged and spends the day walking around town with a radio around his neck. He can sing along with all the popular songs and is an incredible dancer. He has performed at our kids’ birthday parties. A few years ago some locals decided his talent was so unique he should perform in Panama City. However when the big moment came Felipe refused to walk out on stage.

Every year brings a different twist on the local security situation sponsored by the Panamanian and U.S. governments. The biggest news lately was two Panamanian police losing limbs to land mines on a remote beach closer to the Colombian border. Most think they stepped on their own mines.

While the Colombian refugee population that came in mass in 1999 is still allowed to stay in Jaque, most still don’t have permanent status. However new refugees that arrive are deported immediately, regardless of the danger they face back in Colombia.

OTHER NEWS

I recently read that Ann Frank’s beloved tree had blown down—the tree she observed from the secret annex and that gave her much pleasure for the two years she was in hiding with her family. In her diary, she wrote extensively about her love of nature; “It’s a better medicine than either Valerian or bromine. Mother Nature makes me humble and prepared to face every blow courageously.”

Was great to hear about my friend Dan Millis’s littering conviction being overturned by a court of appeals. Dan’s “littering” was putting out water bottles for migrants crossing the desert, part of his work with the Tucson group No More Deaths. Two days prior to his “crime” Dan found the body of 14-year-old girl from El Salvador who had died in the crossing, which was chronicled in a book, “The Death of Josseline,” by Margaret Regan.

Link to view the great documentary “El Derecho de Vivir En Paz” about the life of Victor Jara:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OiDLXm1Dvo4 

Emily's Thirsty Pixels; Google's CIA Friends

The Dispatch Extra-- Aug. 2010

The Dispatch's Outside The Box Feature.
You have been drawing. What does it mean to lose your eye?

An Inspiring Interview from Democracy Now

DN!: EXCLUSIVE...Emily Henochowicz Speaks Out: Art Student Who Lost Her Eye After Being Shot by Israeli Tear Gas Canister in West Bank Protest Discusses Her Life, Her Art, and Why She Plans to Return

Today, a Democracy Now! global broadcast exclusive interview with Emily Henochowicz. She’s the twenty-one-year-old American art student who lost her eye in May after being shot in the face by an Israeli tear gas canister at a protest against Israel’s attack on the Gaza flotilla that left nine people dead. "I’m not ashamed of the fact that I lost my eye. I’m proud of who I am. I believed in the cause, and that’s why I came to that demonstration on that day," Henochowicz says. "I’m not going to be the same person that I was before this happened." [includes rush transcript]
To read, listen to, or watch the whole story:
http://www.democracynow.org/2010/8/5/exclusiveemily_henochowicz_speaks_out_art_student

Check out Emily's blog, art and more at her Blog : http://thirstypixels.blogspot.com/

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

Also From Democracy Now:

"Google Teams Up with CIA to Fund "Recorded Future" Startup Monitoring Websites, Blogs & Twitter Accounts"
To read or view the full story, go to: http://www.democracynow.org/2010/7/30/google_teams_up_with_cia_to

"Verizon & Google Enter Reported Deal for Tiered Internet Use, Is Net Neutrality in Jeopardy?"
for the full scoop: http://www.democracynow.org/2010/8/6/verizon_google_enter_reported_deal_for

Hobo Dispatch: Call of the Wild Lite; Bogota's Makeover; SB1070

The Dispatch--Tarheel Edition Aug. 2010

In July I survived 10 days alone in New Mexico’s Gila wilderness dodging poisonous snakes and wild bears. Opening line #2: In July I enjoyed 10 days of solitude in the Gila wilderness with modern camping gear, good food, a cell phone, and someone knew my entire itinerary. Rattlesnakes are easy to avoid and the bears are so skiddish in the Gila they quickly run away when approached. At least the cell phone never worked so there was some adventure involved.

I try to spend 7-10 days in the Gila every summer, sort of a yearly retreat. In Peter Matthiessen's great book “The Snow Leopard” (about his three month expedition/pilgrimage in Nepal) he mentions that "too much possibility leads to the madhouse." Trying to live and work in three countries for several years has come awfully close at times to getting admitted, or others having me committed.

The Gila is the largest wilderness area in New Mexico/Arizona and one of most unused. The first seven days I saw more bears (2) than people (0). Wildlife is abundant with a large elk population and wolves have now moved in. On top of the Mogollon mountains I heard the beautiful howl of a wolf one morning.

Adjoining the wilderness is the old mining town of Silver City where I always stop to buy supplies and spend some time in my favorite coffee shop, Javelinas. Silver City is full of rat race refugees from other areas of the country. While drinking coffee I heard a familiar voice and called out “hey Bill, remember me; you were my mechanic in Tucson.” Bill-“Yea I disappeared and now live here off the grid.”

Another guy would just hang out in Javelinas (never saw him buy anything) and sing along to Eagles and Jimmy Buffet songs on the radio. As I was pouring cream into my coffee he approached me: “You FBI,?” he asked. Me-“I hope not. I try to stay away from those guys.” Him-“You better stay away from me.”

In a past Dispatch I mentioned meeting Doug who hadn't ridden in a car for six years and spends weeks at a time foraging for food in the Gila wilderness along with his loyal entourage of three donkeys. I saw a flyer on the street where he was giving a course in finding wild foods and "communicating with plants."

Silver City had their July 4th parade while I was there and parade organizers wanted to make sure everyone was holding a flag. I’m not too keen on waving the flag so I would act distracted when the flag bearers tried to shove a flag my way. Now in addition to being a suspected FBI agent I was also on the watch list for unpatriotic behavior. There was a float about the Iwo Jima flag raising and one car carried a survivor of the Bataan Death March; both events I'm sure happened on July 4th.


From Mayberry to Bogota

Back here in North Carolina's Mayberry with Andy, Barney, and Aunt Bee and not far from the Land of Oz. Actually the Land of Oz theme park on Beech Mt. has been closed since 1980 but I got to visit it as a kid. The park was reclaimed by nature but the weeds have been hacked back so tourists can once again walk down the yellow brick road one weekend a year.

I dropped in on the Amish community near my hometown and talked at length with one young Amish man who recently came from Ontario, Canada and another couple who came from Maryland. They were having a big community gathering when I arrived with men and women in Amish dress playing volleyball.

The 30+ families settled on this rural crossroad originally came from Kentucky. They're New Order Amish so use electricity, tractors, and other modern conveniences but use bikes and the horse and buggy for personal transportation. They will ride in cars but don't drive. They have many cottage industries like jams and other canned goods, furniture, hydroponic tomatoes, and shed construction.

I had hoped to visit my wife's family in Bogota, Colombia this summer but had to cancel so they'll continue to joke about me as the "virtual" husband. Aug. 13 was the anniversary of the assassination of the beloved Colombian journalist, peace activist, and political satirist Jaime Garzon, who was murdered by paramilitaries in 1999. A huge march was held after his death. He was one of the first to publicize the connection between the brutal paramilitary forces and the government.
Here's some great footage of Garzon as the shoeshiner talking politics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1FPcuHVGE48

A few months ago I saw a wonderful documentary on the Sundance channel about some of the great changes that happened in Colombia's capital, Bogota during the administrations of two progressive mayors. Bogota was once known as "the worst city in the world". I've seen the wonderful public transit system there along with nice public parks, childrens museums, bike lanes, fewer cars, reduced crime, and other improvements. Here's the link to see the documentary "Bogota Change" : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gyBe5-irc_4

SB1070 Gets Off to a Rocky Start and Singing on the Hudson

In July a federal judge puts into effect a temporary injunction against  most parts of
SB1070, Arizona's new anti-immigrant law and the judge received many threats. There
were mass protests and dozens arrested in non-violent civil disobedience
in Phoenix and Tucson as the new law went into effect. Check out this
great photo gallery of the protests.
http://azstarnet.com/promo/homepage/collection_8fc96ad4-9b45-11df-b9b6-001cc4c03286.html

Finally see the attached photo of Pete Seeger at the annual Clearwater Festival on the Hudson River
in N.Y.  Ted Warmbrand sent me this picture from this year's festival. Seeger and his organization
take folks on a sailing sloop they built to raise awareness about the river. The river has gotten much cleaner
so they came up with a plan to put big cages into the river that are used used as swimming pools. At the end
of any event or festival, Seeger is usually seen picking up garbage or folding chairs.

photos below--Gila Wilderness, Silver City 4th of July parade, Tucson SB1070 protest, Pete Seeger at the Clearwater festival

Snapshots from MX (part 2): Visit To A Forbidden City

---

From the Current Travel Warning to Mexico—U.S. Dept. of State (the reality check part)
“Millions of U.S. citizens safely visit Mexico each year. This includes tens of thousands who cross the border every day for study, tourism or business and at least one million U.S. citizens who live in Mexico. The Mexican government makes a considerable effort to protect U.S. citizens and other visitors to major tourist destinations.”


Violence, Fear of Violence, and the Violence of Fear

Mexico hasn’t gotten many breaks over the past year. The most recent blow was the Mexican soccer team’s elimination from the World Cup, in a match where the refs allowed a blatantly offside goal by Argentina to stand.

Tourism has plummeted in the country. Last year it was due to the hysteria over swine flu. Now the fear of violence seems to be the catalyst: step across the border and your life is in danger. Well I’ve been living in Mexico for most of the past seven years and haven’t lost any sleep any personal safety issues. In fact I’ve enjoyed living here.

It was great to see a high school group from Colorado spend their spring break in Sonora building composting toilets. Too many schools and universities won’t allow student trips south of the border these days.


Return to a Forbidden City; Fond Memories of Nuclear Waste

There are a few places in Mexico I would think twice about visiting. Ciudad Juarez, considered one of the most dangerous cities in the world, would be on that list. However I wanted to see an old friend there, so I decided it was time to return to my old stomping grounds.

The opportunity presented itself in June when I traveled to El Paso, TX for a temporary job assignment. I lived in El Paso from 1993-2000 when I worked for a bi-national environmental coalition, spending much of that time in Juarez, a sprawling city of roughly 1.5 million residents. There were murders between rival drug gangs back then, but the city felt safe. There was a thriving nightlife.

My co-worker in Juarez was Felix Leonardo Perez and we quickly became good friends. Through him I became immersed in the environmental, cultural, and social movement activities in Juarez. Felix was also a part-time actor performing in theater groups.

One of our most memorable environmental struggles was over the State of Texas’s plans to build a nuclear waste dump on the border in Sierra Blanca, downriver from Juarez. One march in Juarez against the dump had over a thousand people. A few weeks before dump opponents prevailed in 1998, several thousand public school students from Juarez blocked four international bridges for a couple of hours.

In Oct. 2006 I returned to Juarez for the Border Social Forum, held in conjunction with the World Social Forum movement. It was an exciting time with folks from all over the Americas, but it also turned out to be one of the last events of its kind held in the city.

By 2008 the violence had exploded. Mexico’s President Calderon, who had launched a crackdown on organized crime, sent thousands of Army troops to patrol the streets of Juarez, but many accused the soldiers of human rights abuses. Then U.S. military aid began pouring in to support Mexico’s Drug War. Things have not improved.

Bad Timing for Bad News

The day before my visit I watched the Juarez evening news. The day’s murders dominated the newscast. At one point the anchor stated, “Hopefully this will be all we have to report for today.” Two more killings were reported before the broadcast ended.

Also mentioned was the case of two thirteen-year old girls who were missing, especially disturbing news in a city where hundreds of young women and girls have been disappeared and murdered going back to the 1990s. The girls were found by the police the following day playing in a park; their teenage rebelliousness apparently unaffected by the violence.

On the morning of June 24 I drove to the Santa Fe international bridge. Being a little uneasy about what to expect I asked the attendant at the border parking lot how things were in Juarez. “As long as you stay on the main streets, you’ll be fine. Avoid side streets,” he said. I noticed it only cost three bucks to park for the day as compared to four a decade ago.

Relaxing at the “Beach”; Life Goes On Amidst The Violence

I walked down the main tourist avenue lined with bars, pharmacies, dental offices, and restaurants—the change from a few years ago was striking. There were no tourists and relatively few Mexican pedestrians. Several soldiers stood guard and truckloads of federal police would occasionally ride by.

Felix was much more relaxed than the last time I saw him, when the city was first overwhelmed by the spike in violence. He had obtained a scholarship to pursue doctoral studies. “Life goes on,” he commented, "I've never personally witnessed any of the violence here, nothing. But I know people who have."

We both knew Josefina Reyes who was killed a few months ago in the Juarez Valley. She and her entire family helped in the campaign against the nuclear waste dump. I hadn’t seen her since those days but she later became known for her political and human rights activism.

I used to love visiting the semi-rural Juarez Valley to escape the bustle of Juarez, but now it’s one of the most affected areas by the violence and many residents are fleeing. The mayor of one of the small towns there was gunned down on June 19. Here’s an article mentioning Reyes’s murder and the plight of the Valley: http://www.salem-news.com/articles/april052010/ciudad-violence.php

Felix could see rays of light in the darkness that had enveloped his city. “ I like to sit in the main plaza by the cathedral and watch the people and families there enjoying themselves,” he stated; “I see this as a form of resistance. People are refusing to let fear and violence completely disrupt their lives. I also recently came across a youth dance group rehearsing in the street. That was wonderful to see.”

We moved on to discuss other things: books we’ve read, and updates on family and friends. The friendly waiter joined in the conversation at times. He must have refilled our cups of coffee a half dozen times, as if he didn’t want us to leave. We were enjoying ourselves.

As we stepped outside on the sidewalk I commented on the cool breeze blowing that day. Felix joked, “Yes, we’re by the beach you know.” Then after a handshake and a hug we departed.

In just a few minutes I crossed over the “beach” on the nearly dry river below and was back in El Paso; leaving behind a city with one of the world’s highest murder rates. El Paso has a very low crime rate; the spillover effect of violence from Mexico is a fallacy.

Reports say tens of thousands of people have fled the violence in Juarez. Would I have the courage to live there? Even if I tried to I could exercise the “beam me up Scotty” option at any time. But most in Juarez don’t have that luxury. Besides, people have reasons to be there: family, community, jobs, and even some fond memories. I hope I don’t wait too long before going back.

Recommended Reading/Viewing (from Democracy Now):

John Ross--Haven’t read his new book on Mexico (or any of his books for that matter but plan to), but found his interview delightful. Ross, who has lived in Mexico for decades, clearly loves Mexico and its people and focuses on positive aspects as well as the negative. http://www.democracynow.org/2010/4/27/john_ross_on_el_monstruo_dread

Grace Lee Boggs--This is a wonderful and inspiring interview with 95-year old Boggs, an activist in multiple social movements for decades, who participated in the recent US Social Forum held in her city of Detroit. A must view or read for anyone wishing to effect change in this country.

http://www.democracynow.org/2010/6/22/legendary_detroit_activist_grace_lee_boggs

Snapshots from Mexico (part 1)

Snapshots from Mexico (part 1); Drinking songs and bad timing

June 2010

Survival Tips Where the Minimum Wage is Five Bucks (A Day)

Early one May morning I was driving through Sonora, Mexico heading for Nogales, AZ. I picked up a couple of men hitchhiking in the town of Imuris. They hopped in, one carrying a sack of vegetables to sell. They both got out in Nogales, Sonora and I headed for the dreaded line to cross the border.

A few minutes later I happened to glance into the rear view mirror and noticed movement in the camper of the truck. I pulled over and out climbed three more guys from the back, two of them with sacks of vegetables. They had climbed in when I pulled over to pick up the other two men and I never noticed. I just smiled as they got out and one attempted his best English to thank me, “Thank you for the rap.”

One of the first two men hitchhikes from his home every day in Imuris to an OXXO store (like a 7-11) near Nogales to sell burritos his wife makes fresh every day. He told me he makes about 1,800 pesos a week ($150 U.S.)—far better than the 500 pesos a week he could earn in a maquiladora. Plus he’s usually sold out by 1 p.m. and headed home where he tries to pick up odd jobs to further supplement his income.

One man I’ve gotten to know from the long waits crossing the border is an elderly gentleman named Victoriano. He hobbles around on a crutch selling chicles (gum). He told me how years ago a car hit him at a gas station and left him in the shape he’s in. He get's a disability payment of 800 pesos a month of which 600 goes towards rent. He's an inspiring figure, never complaining, radiating kindness---a Buddha like figure to me. The last time I saw him he told me with gladness his son had been able to start college.

One friend of ours, Olga, is from the old Pajarero culture, which is a combination of indigenous and gypsy cultures. She grew up living out of a horse drawn cart, camping in villages with her family throughout northern Sonora. She stills travels constantly with her son in an old truck to collect medicinal plants that she sells at different festivals. They also set up their booth “Tiro Sport” where you pay 10 pesos to shoot at little ceramic figures with a pellet gun.

One bit of recent news which ties in with the centennial anniversary of the Mexican Revolution: the miners of Cananea, Sonora (a site of historical significance to the start of the Revolution) who had been on strike for a couple of years and were occupying the mine, were removed by Mexican security forces using tear gas so now the mine may be reopened without the union.

Tocar y Luchar, and don't forget the marshmellows

In June we had our annual camp-out with about 20 kids at the Casa Elizabeth orphanage in Imuris. The recipe—set up a few tents, start a campfire and roast some marshmallows. The kids provided entertainment through songs and jokes. A ghost story or two and a great time was had by all. Ana Maria through Bridges Across Borders has done volunteer work at Casa Elizabeth for years with a violin and music program. Two of the girls are now pursuing university studies and supplementing their income by giving violin lessons.

In Venezuela a remarkable government sponsored program (started decades ago) teaches classical music to poor kids in communities and orphanages throughout the country. I once saw a documentary about this “Tocar y Luchar” (To Play and to Fight), and it blew my mind. To check out the trailer to this go to: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wmPIz9W-WQUYou can also watch the entire documentary on youtube.

A few days later we held our annual graduation at the prison for the inmates who had completed workshops in the Alternatives to Violence Project
(avpusa.org ). It was an enjoyable time in the Big House as we took in food and beverages and lined up some cultural activities. The Director of the local Casa de la Cultura had promised to bring in some entertainment but it looked up he wasn’t going to show up.

Then as we about lost all hope we looked around and there he was with a group of youth from Casa Elizabeth! It was their choir group of about eight girls accompanied by a boy on guitar. One of the girls, 15 year-old Alicia, gave an amazing little speech about how she had lost her Mother so she and her four siblings had ended up in the orphanage, but still she had been able to evolve and progress in life. “If I can do it, you can too,” she told the guys.

Another man came along to play traditional Mexican music on his guitar. The first song was about drinking and drunks. The Director asked him to avoid songs about drinking which cracked everyone up (the prison was observing the 75th anniversary of Alcoholics Anonymous with special activities that week). He had to think hard about what song he would be able to play.