The freedom to express
Cannot be given up.
It comes from God.
Be free and brave.
Only one prison remains:
Our minds.

– Reesom Haile, poet

Photo from the archives of Nunu Kidane.

“I feel sad. I don’t know where my son is. I feel a huge amount of sadness…When he left he said, ‘Mum, I’ll call you in 12 days’, but I never heard from him again. I still have hope.” – Mother of Migrant (Mexico, 2010)

Every year tens of thousands of people leave their homes in Central and South America and journey north through Mexico, seeking a better life in the United States. As irregular migrants they do not have legal permission to enter or remain in the country.

Inspired by the stories of the people who make the journey, actor and producer Gael García Bernal ("Amores Perros", "Y tu mamá también", "The Motorcycle Diaries") and director Marc Silver ("Resist", "The Games") collaborated with human rights agency Amnesty International to produce  The Invisibles (Los Invisibles), a series of films depicting the lives of irregular migrants in Mexico.

The four films record the journey of hundreds of migrants from the border between Guatemala and Mexico on their way to the United States. The premiere of The Invisibles coincides with the start of this year’s Global Forum on Migration and Development, taking place in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.

"You don't imagine that your dreams can end in a moment on this journey." – Migrant from El Salvador (Mexico, 2009)

+ Watch the films
+ Take action

On Frantz Fanon:

Concerning Violence
The Ambivalence of Fidelity: Frantz Fanon and the Cultural Unconscious
Wikipedia entry

Originally created 21 May 2009 at 7:16AM

One of the four books I read during my two week stay in Masca, Honduras last March was Dr. Muhammad Yunus' Banker to the Poor: Micro-Lending and the Battle Against World Poverty. An autobiography published in 2003, the book details how Yunus developed the idea of microcredit in his native country of Bangladesh.

Within the first few chapters of this book, I was immediately humbled by Yunus' simple solution to help the disenfranchised of Jobra, a small village just north of Chittagong, Bangladesh.

In 1976, Yunus, an economist with a Ph.D. from Vanderbilt University and a professor at Chittagong University, started down the road that would lead to the founding of his microcredit institution Grameen Bank by loaning, from his own pocket, what amounted to a meager $27 to local crafts people.

I wanted to help these forty-two able-bodied, hard-working people. I kept going around and around the problem, like a dog worrying a bone. People like Sufiya were poor not because they were stupid or lazy. They worked all day long, doing complex physical tasks. They were poor because the financial institutions in the country did not help them widen their economic base. No formal financial structure was available to cater to the credit needs of the poor. This credit market, by default of the formal institutions, had been taken over by the local moneylenders. It was an efficient vehicle; it created a heavy rush of one-way traffic on the road to poverty. But if I could just lend the Jobra villagers the twenty-seven dollars, they could sell their products to anyone. They would then get the highest possible return for their labor and would not be limited by the usurious practices of the traders and moneylenders.

It was all so easy. I handed Maimuna the twenty-seven dollars and told her, “Here, lend this money to the forty-two villagers on our list. They can repay the traders what they owe them and sell their products at a good price.”

“When should they repay you?” she asked.

“Whenever they can,” I said. “Whenever it is advantageous for them to sell their products. They don’t have to pay any interest. I am not in the money business.”

Maimuna left, puzzled by this turn of events.

Often we think we can only contribute to the greater good through large initiatives that require great amounts of money.  However, Yunus' book gives proof to how a small gesture can easily change the life course of many.  A minute gesture can lend itself to another.  Thus becoming the key that creates the domino effect that becomes global transformation.

Read a chapter from Banker to Poor at www.bankertothepoor.com.

Banker to the Poor: Micro-Lending and the Battle Against World Poverty
Muhammad Yunus
Published by PublicAffairs, 2003
312 pages

The next book from my Masca reading list will be Kindred, a deeply emotional, beautifully written historical novel, considered to be science fiction author Octavia Butler's masterpiece.

A summary from eNotes:

On her twenty-sixth birthday, Dana, the protagonist of Kindred, is overcome by nausea and finds herself on the bank of a river. When she sees a young boy drowning in the river, she jumps in and saves him. She is shocked when the boy's father points a gun at her head; it is clear that he is suspicious of Dana, a young black woman. Suddenly, she finds herself back in her living room. Although she was by the river for minutes, she has been away from home for only a few seconds.

Traumatized by the event, she calms down and begins to recover her wits. Suddenly she finds herself next to the same boy, named Rufus, in a burning bedroom. As she saves him again, Dana realizes that Rufus is calling her when his life is in danger. She discovers that the year is 1815, and although he is a white, Southern slave-owner, he is the future father of the first woman listed in her family records—Hagar Weylin. The woman listed as Hagar's mother, Alice Greenwood, is a free black child and Rufus' friend. Dana realizes that she has just saved the life of her ancestor.

Dana decides to visit Alice, but ends up watching as patrollers drag Alice's father out and whip him. He is a slave, and has come to visit his family without permission. A patroller grabs Dana and tries to rape her. She hits him and returns to her life in 1976. When she shares her experiences with her husband, Kevin, he has a hard time believing her. He realizes that Dana can only come back to the present when her life is in danger.

Part I

The first day I met him, I should have believed him.

It was our first date.  We started the day by meeting for breakfast at a small restaurant in a quiet Chicago neighborhood.  It was summer, late June or early July, and very hot.

We talked and laughed across the table, coyly getting to know each other.

"How do you like Chicago?", "What do you like to do?" and a myriad of other obligatory questions were thrown back and forth across plates of eggs, bacon and pancakes.

He was tall, dark and extremely handsome with a beautiful smile and a French accent.

As he relayed his life to me, I became increasingly intrigued.

He had traveled around the world and spoke four languages: English, French, Japanese and an African dialect from his father's native Mali.  Global politics and economics were high on his list of interests and, like myself, he was an adventurer.  He had no problem moving from city to city on a whim. He had already lived in Pennsylvania and one other U.S. city since coming to the States several years ago.

"Life has much to offer," he told me.

"Yes.  It does," I agreed.

I then thought to myself, "Could he be?"

See, when you are young and single, you can never really know who is being sent your way and for what purpose.  It's difficult to know God's plan.  So you go along for the ride.  Hoping that today is the day your prayers might be answered.

That day was not my day.

Part II

We'd been at the restaurant for several hours.  Much more than necessary to consume a simple breakfast meal.  But we weren't quite ready to part ways.

"Erykah Badu is giving a free concert in the park.  Want to go?," I asked.

"Sure," was his response.

He followed me home so I could drop off my car and I rode with him downtown towards the busy Taste of Chicago crowd.

I've always been one to expect the best in people.  So I didn't think twice when he told me, "I only live a couple blocks away.  I'll drop you off here, then run home to get lawn chairs.  I'll be right back."

Maybe it was the drug-deficient high I was on.  It could have been the sweltering heat.  But either way I never thought he would not return.

I waited, with 95 degree, humid air engulfing me, for an hour before I started to get worried.

I called him.  He did not answer, but I got his voicemail.

"Just wanted to let you know that I moved up by the fountain into the shade.  See you in a bit."

I waited.

After about another thirty minutes without a response, I called again.

"Hey, where are you?  It's hot out here."

I began to slowly replay the morning back in my head, looking for clues to explain his absence.

"Did I say something wrong at breakfast?  He said he liked me.  Our rapport was great. Did I do something? Why isn't he answering his phone? Maybe he got hurt."

I spent another hour looking for an answer to why someone would do this.  Why would someone say they were coming back when they knew they had no intentions?

It was so hot.  I didn't want to cry.  But I couldn't hold back the tears as I began the walk home.

I was too angry, hurt and ashamed to stay for Badu.

Part III

Two days later he called.

I had fallen into my typical state of depression.  Wondering what I had done wrong for someone to be so cruel. Praying and asking for forgiveness from God for something I may have done in the past to warrant this punishment.

But when he called I pretended to be uncaring about his actions.  I couldn't let him know how much he had hurt me with his disappearing act.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Okay," I answered in the most noncommittal, unemotional voice I could find.

I don't remember what excuse he gave me for leaving me alone in the heat that day. However, it was the first in a long line of excuses that I would receive from him over the next six years.

I should have believed him when he told me exactly who he was the first day in the park as I waited for him to return.

"If someone tells you who they are, believe them."

In April 1994, one of the most heinous genocides in world history began in the African nation of Rwanda. Over the course of 100 days, close to one million people were killed in a terrifying purge by Hutu nationalists against their Tutsi countrymen - all while the West stood still.

@Negrita reminded me that today marks the 15th anniversary of the genocide and the international day of remembrance for the great lost that forever changed her country.

Many of you are still reveling in the success of last month's Earth Hour.  The success of the event definitely shed additional light on our worldwide eco ills. However, I'd like to challenge you to take that same fever and apply it to transforming humankind.

Today, I request your solidarity in recognizing one of mankind's greatest atrocities by not only joining me in lighting a candle for Rwanda, but using the day as a means to teach at least one person about the history of the genocide and other human rights horrors currently taking place around the globe.

I've listed some resources below.  Solutions are plausible.

Resources

The Triumph of Evil
100 Days of Slaughter
Human Rights Watch
Amnesty International
United Human Rights Council
Genocide Watch