solidaridad

The weekend before Thanksgiving, I took students on a trip to Fort Benning, Georgia, home of a combat training facility for Latin American soldiers called WHINSEC (Western Hemisphere Institute for Security Cooperation), formerly and more commonly known as the School of the Americas, or SOA. The SOA, according to the human rights-centered SOA Watch (www.soaw.org), “has trained over 60,000 Latin American soldiers in counterinsurgency techniques, sniper training, commando and psychological warfare, military intelligence and interrogation tactics. These graduates have consistently used their skills to wage a war against their own people. Among those targeted by SOA graduates are educators, union organizers, religious workers, student leaders, and others who work for the rights of the poor. Hundreds of thousands of Latin Americans have been tortured, raped, assassinated, “disappeared,” massacred, and forced into refugee by those trained at the School of [the Americas].” Oscar Romero was assassinated by SOA grads while he celebrated mass in the chapel of an oncology hospital.

Each year during the same weekend, tens of thousands of concerned people descend on Fort Benning for a peaceful protest aimed at closing the SOA. There are events held in a convention center nearby, mostly seminars and sessions for people interested in various peace and social justice groups. We attended a session with Sr. Helen Prejean, known nationally for her work toward a moratorium on the death penalty, where she “interviewed” the session’s attendees as a way to spark conversation about topics of justice and non-violence. The main events of the weekend occur right outside the gates of Fort Benning, and on the street leading up to it. The street is lined with vendors selling products with messages of peace and justice, representatives from organizations around the country with similar motives, and thousands of engaged and excited people from around the country and the world. There is a rally on Saturday, which includes speakers, musicians, and people who have been affected by SOA trained soldiers giving testimony and sharing their stories.

Sunday was the most powerful day for me and, I think, for most of the 22,000 people at the protest. First there were a few speakers and musicians, the last of which led the attentive crowd in song: “No mas, no more, we must stop the dirty wars, compañeros, compañeras we cry out, no mas, no more.” Following this was the funeral procession for all of the victims who died at the hands of SOA graduates in Latin America. Most of the 22,000 people carried white crosses with the name, age, and country of one of these victims printed on them in black. Someone on stage sang the names of many victims, and after each name, the crowd raised its crosses and sang “Presente,” (present) in response. During this, the crowd processed slowly down the street and ended at the gate to the SOA, where they left their crosses and flowers. Imagine 22,000 crosses stuck in this gate, left for all to see. It was a powerful image, and a powerful experience. For me it was certainly a time of solidarity with other like-minded people working for peace and justice around the country and the world.

People have asked me what the point of the protest is if it’s been done for a number of years now and the SOA is still open. I already mentioned its symbolic and powerful feeling of solidarity (there were also many other demonstrations around Latin America on the same weekend). It also allowed many people the opportunity to connect with other people and organizations working for change. It certainly got media coverage, which helps to get the word out about our cause. There was renewed hope this year for the SOA to be closed by the U.S. Congress, as many of the Republican Congresspeople who previously voted (in a close vote) to keep it open have recently been defeated and are soon to be replaced in Washington. And finally and perhaps most importantly, 22,000 people honored those who have died at the hands of SOA graduates. If nothing else was accomplished, this certainly was.

I hope that the SOA closes before next November and that I don’t have to go back, but if it remains open I will go back, and I will look forward to the feeling of "solidaridad" with the people of Latin America and with others united in a common cause.

pet therapy

What is it about our pets that always seems to cheer us up no matter what our mood?

We have four cats. I've been called a cat lady on many occasions. I'm ok with that. Here's why:


That's Sebastian on top of a door. Yes, a door. And Lucy's admiring him from below.


Toby's latest pose.


Lucy's favorite rule to break - don't climb the clothes in my closet.


The princess. We have no incriminating photos of Chloe. Probably because we're too shocked when she decides to pee in the laundry basket or when she jumps on the kitchen counter and lands smack in the middle of the birthday cake Ken just made me.

Seriously, though, despite all of these reasons to question our decision to own four cats, they still manage to cheer me up on days when I'm feeling frustrated with the world's injustices. I mean, let's be honest - they're cats. They have their own agendas, each one of them. They're busy doing important things all day long. Or at least they seem to think so. But when I get home at the end of the day, I always know I have at least four little beings who rely on me to love and care for them. And isn't that what we all want - to feel adequate and appreciated because we're able to love and provide for others and fulfill their needs?

Call it selfish, but I have a sneaking suspicion this is why most of us have pets. It's easy to love them when they never get mad at us!

man, it's hot outside

So me being me, I decided when I got back from El Salvador last March that I would use ALL of the Spanish words I learned WHENEVER possible. In May I moved into our new apartment building, and much to my pleasure, the superintendent of our building, Jose, is from Colombia and decided to befriend us. He's great! I was so excited that I finally had someone to practice my Spanish with. So I made a pact with myself that every time I saw Jose I would use some Spanish. Even if it was only one word (you see, I realized that I somehow learned mostly nouns and a few random adjectives, so this makes it quite difficult to string together a sentence - turns out those verb things are pretty important after all). I convinced myself that next year in El Salvador I would be MUCH better at Spanish, since Jose was going to teach me a new word or two every time I saw him.

Well, all was going as planned, and a few months later it was summer. One day I got home from work and it was really hot outside. Like 95 degrees hot. I walked up the front steps to the building and saw Jose mowing the lawn beside me. PERFECT opportunity for me to practice some of that Espanol! (Sorry - I'm not talented enough to make accent signs or those little squiggly lines over the n.) So, proud as can be, I yell (over the buzz of the mower), "Hola Jose! Muy caliente!" (translation: "Hi Jose! Very hot!) And picture me, mid-Spanish sentence, doing that hand motion where you pretend to fan yourself off because it's really hot outside. Well, Jose chuckled and said in stride, "Si. Muy caliente!" Then we proceeded to exchange a few words in English (his English is FAR better than my Spanish, in case you hadn't figured that out yet), and I proceeded upstairs, still very proud. In fact, the first thing I told the husband was, "guess what?! I just practiced my Spanish with Jose!" I then recounted the conversation for husband, who humored me, as is his way, by smiling and nodding and saying something like, "that's nice, honey." You see, he doesn't speak Spanish either. (Side note: isn't there someone somewhere who makes it their business to go around telling students that studying German is not going to be helpful in real life?)

Ok, so fast forward about three months to this past weekend in Camden. Friday night we went to a legitimate Mexican restaurant for dinner. The menu was all in Spanish. Our waitress spoke only Spanish. If this were Jose, I would have been excited to practice my Spanish. But this was an actual situation in which the people around me spoke ONLY Spanish. I wasn't excited (well, I was because I love Mexican food and cultural experiences, but I wasn't because I REALLY wanted to know Spanish at that moment, and the sad truth is that I don't). Anyway, we had a few American Spanish speakers in the group (you know, the kind who learned it in high school and attempt to translate the menu, which really gets only half translated if it's a good day). So, we all finally figure out what we want, or at least decipher one thing on the menu and decide that it sounds relatively edible, so we're ready to order. The waitress comes over, which is quite the scene, as most encounters are when you speak two different languages. Our resident Spanish speaking college student asks the waitress a question, in broken Spanish, and I am excited to recognize a word - none other than the abovementioned "caliente!" So the waitress leaves after our painstaking exchange, and I say to the group, "I know the word caliente! It means hot!" And then someone says, "yes, well it means spicy hot. But you should never use that word when you want to say that you're hot or that it's hot outside." And I say, remembering the mid-summer exchange with Jose, "oh no, why not?" "Well," said my dinner mate, "when you say it in that context it means you're [ready for this?] horny."

So, turns out I told my building's superintendent that I'm horny. Did I mention that Jose's about 60? And that he knows my husband quite well? Or that I left him a note about a month ago about a leaky pipe in our bathroom and it remains leaky?

Yes, that's what I do. I get so excited about something new that I end up embarrassing myself and remaining proud of it for the next three months.

Anyway, today when I'm at work, I tell the story to my Ecuadorean friend. She laughs and tells me that caliente doesn't mean horny in all Spanish-speaking countries. For example, she said, it doesn't mean that in her country, because slang differs from place to place. She asks what country Jose is from. I say Colombia. Her response: "oh yeah, it means horny there!"

Great. Can't a girl get a break?

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I always tell my students that they should never go into another country pretending they know what's best for the people there simply because they are the ones there to "serve" and because they are from the wealthier country. Instead they should seek to learn from these people they meet, ask for help, remain open.

Maybe it's time for me to start practicing what I preach! Next time I think I'll ASK Jose how to say something in Spanish instead of assuming.

To all the Joses in my life, mea culpa.