Thursday, January 20, 2011

Day 95: Everybody has got 5.5 liters of blood

I had the opportunity to visit Bangalore, India in 2000 for 8 weeks.  It was an amazing experience.  Totally sensory.  The sounds of the city never cease, even in the middle of the night.  Honking horns to warn people you are driving around a corner.  Street vendors shouting their daily specials.

The visual imagery of India is lasting.  Throngs of beautiful brown-skinned people, dressed in an array of brightly colored sarees and kurta pyjamas.  The contrast of beautiful homes directly next door to slums.  Cows stopping traffic, with cars 5 or 6 across what we would consider to be a two or three-lane highway.  Heads bobbing side to side in affirmation.

The smells are potent.  Burning incense to greet you as you enter a shop.  The smell of raw sewage as you drive over what at first glance appears to be a river.  The constant smell of burning trash.

Indian food is a tasty combination of sweet and savory.  Spice.  Rich creamy sauces and rice in abundance.  Combine your taste and touch sensations at each meal, as food is eaten by hand.  Combine the rice with sauce into a cohensive clump, hold with your four fingers cupping the food, and push it into your mouth with your thumb.

I loved my time there.  But the heart break of poverty is so evident and accepted that there was a lot of confusion and questions as well.  The caste system still exists, separating the poorest of the poor from the richest of the rich.  But even in these set ways, and centuries of ingrained ideals and traditions, there are heroes in India.  People that recognize we are all the same, regardless of our status in society.  "Everybody has got 5.5 liters of blood.  I am just a human being."  Narayanan Krishnan is serving these people.  Nourishing their bodies and encouraging their spirit.  




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Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Day 94: Celebrating Diversity

I think we all know that war devastates countries and communities.  The effects are long-lasting.  They don't resolve with the end of the war.  Often the effects of war persist for generations.   The hurt and pain caused between groups of people remains, and the result can be division and prejudice.

A school in Bosnia-Herzegovina is addressing this problem head-on.  Reaching out to children and families of all ethnicities, they are hoping to teach tolerance and respect, and to rebuild their society from the youngest members up.  What is beautiful about this school, Dzemaludin Causevic Primary School in Sarajevo, is that they aren't blending these children together and blotting out their heritage.  No, they are celebrating the different cultures by offering classes on different local languages - Bosnian, Croatian, Roma, Serbian - and cultural dance.  Other classes offered to these children include how to stay safe in the community by identifying and avoiding mines that still liter the city years after the war, and community outreach and involvement opportunities.

Our children learn what we teach them.  We can teach hate, prejudice, and disrespect.  Even without words, these lessons are conveyed.  My hope is that through our words and actions, our children will learn and live out respect, compassion, and hope for a better future.


Video found at ViewChange.org


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Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Day 93: How To Turn a Payphone Into a Library

I have wondered on occasion how long phone booths would be around.  They almost seem archaic.  It's probably been over 10 years since I last used one, and maybe just as long that I've actually had change on me that I could use one even if I needed too.  The rise of cell phones and debit cards may have been the final nail in the coffin for the pay phone.

But could there be another use for these booths?  Some way to change this gum-covered, grimy booth into something that adds value once again to the neighborhoods they are in?  I'm sure there could be tons of ideas, but the Book Booth is already up and running in Los Angeles.  Here is how you can set up a Book Booth in a neighborhood near you.

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Have an old phone booth in your neighborhood sitting empty? Fill it with books! Book booths are an easy way to acquire new books (for free), bring your community together and transform a neighborhood eyesore into a neighborhood gem. We talked to Amy Inouye of the Future Studio about how she started one in the Highland Park neighborhood of Los Angeles.
1) Scout. No old phone booth close by? Don’t worry. A book booth can work just about anywhere. Take over an unused newspaper dispenser or ask a local business for some of their sidewalk space or an old bench. Be sure to find a place where people already linger, meet, or hang out. And keep it tidy. “You wouldn’t really want anyone to leave a box of books on the ground,” says Inouye. ”Then it starts looking messy. It’s like the broken window mindset. You want it to look neat and presentable and inviting so that it maintains a level of usefulness and involvement.”
2) Chat. Circulation is the key to a successful book booth. Talk to your neighbors and encourage them to drop off books in advance of the launch, say Inouye. If you choose a location in front of or near a business, be sure to talk to the business owner first and get their support. “I got permission and spoke to the owners several times before we launched the booth,” says Inouye.
3) Stock. Because most people will contribute books they no longer want, it’s easy for the book booth to become a book dump. Act as a curator for the booth to keep too many old romance novels from stacking up. Inouye checks the Highland Park booth almost every day to keep it neat and “family friendly.” She also manages the content. After receiving a stack of 20 year-old textbooks she slowly put them out one at a time. “Eventually all of them got taken,” she says.
4) Let it go! It’s important to maintain the booth, yes, but stay open to different interpretations of its use. Add a chair for a quick read, a request sheet for specific books or a small night light to highlight the space. You may even set up a book crossing. After all, if you love your books, set them free.
This post originally appeared on www.refresheverything.com, as part of GOOD's collaboration with the Pepsi Refresh Project, a catalyst for world-changing ideas.

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Monday, January 17, 2011

Day 92: A City of Healing

Here is a story of a woman with a strong spirit, amazing courage, who has impacted hundreds of thousands of lives in her country of Somalia.  Found at New York Times.

Image found at Vital Voices Global Partnership

On May 5, just after sunup, 750 militants surrounded Dr. Hawa Abdi’s hospital. Mama Hawa, as she is known, heard gunshots, looked out the window and saw she was vastly outnumbered.
“Why are you running this hospital?” the gunmen demanded. “You are old.  And you are a woman!”
They did not seem to care that Mama Hawa, 63, was one of the only trained doctors for miles around, and that the clinic, school and feeding program she built on her land supported nearly 100,000 people, most of them desperate refugees from the fighting and poverty that has afflicted this nation.
For hours, militia commanders held Dr. Abdi at gunpoint while their underlings — mostly 15- to 16-year-old boys — ransacked the hospital, shooting anesthesia machines, smashing windows and tearing up records.
The gunmen, who belonged to one of Somalia’s most fearsome militant Islamist groups, notorious for chopping off hands and stoning adulterers, put Dr. Abdi under house arrest for the next five days and shut down the hospital, causing two dozen malnourished children to die in the bush after their families fled.
But something extraordinary happened. Hundreds of women from the sprawling refugee camp on Dr. Abdi’s property dared to protest, adding to a flood of condemnation from Somalis abroad that forced the militants to back down. Dr. Abdi even insisted that the gunmen apologize — in writing — which they grudgingly agreed to do.
“I told the gunmen, ‘I’m not leaving my hospital,’ ” Dr. Abdi said. “I told them, ‘If I die, I will die with my people and my dignity.’ I yelled at them, ‘You are young and you are a man, but what have you done for your society?’ ”
Somalia has been at war with itself for 20 years. The health care system, like much of the country, has been demolished. There are very few functioning hospitals left. But for decades — as the government imploded, warlords took over, more warlords came and an Islamist insurgency swept across Somalia — Dr. Abdi has persevered, offering a refuge for thousands of families driven from their homes by relentless street battles.
In a nation where the government controls only a few blocks in this war-torn capital, Dr. Abdi and her daughters, who are also doctors, are essentially running a small, desperate city on their own. But that is not enough, in her estimation. So, on separate patches of land she owns, she is organizing families to run farms and has bought a small fleet of fishing boats to help feed the camp.
Her stubborn commitment has earned her recognition worldwide. After nearly 30 years of Caesarean sections and emergency feedings, Dr. Abdi and her daughters were included in Glamour’s Women of the Year 2010, putting them in the same elite company as Julia Roberts and Queen Rania of Jordan. The magazine described Dr. Abdi as “equal parts Mother Teresa and Rambo.”
Eliza Griswold, who wrote about the compound in her book “The Tenth Parallel,” said, “Mostly out of sheer moxie, Dr. Hawa and her daughters have built a city of healing within the war’s brutal chaos.”
Dr. Abdi’s daughter Amina, who first learned to practice medicine trudging behind her mother during visits to the bush, said her mother needed to rest.
“But she has never rested in 20 years,” Amina laughed.
In fact, Dr. Abdi recently had a benign tumor removed from her brain. She is better, she said, but she is tired. Still the work continues, and Dr. Abdi plans to return in a few months.
“I can’t run away to save myself,” she said.
Dr. Abdi comes from a different generation of Somalis, one with opportunity. At 17, she won a scholarship to study gynecological medicine in Kiev, in what is now Ukraine; she was the only woman among 91 Somali students. Her dream to become a doctor began when she was 12, she said, watching her mother die in childbirth.
“I used to think and dream that one day I, myself, could save lives so no other mother would die helpless,” she said, her eyes bright behind thick glasses.
After Kiev, she returned to Somalia and worked for government hospitals. She married and had three children, two daughters and a boy, though her son was killed in a car accident in 2005. He was 23. Both daughters, Amina and Deqa, became doctors.

In 1983, she opened a one-room private women’s clinic on land her family owned and began persuading nomadic women to deliver their babies with her. Dr. Abdi said Somalia’s president at the time, Mohammed Siad Barre (the last president of a permanent central government in Somalia) personally gave her the permission.
That one-room clinic has steadily grown, almost unrecognizably. Today, Hawa Abdi Hospital has 400 beds, 3 operating theaters (still badly damaged from the attack), 6 doctors, 43 nurses, an 800-student school and an adult-education center that teaches women how to cook nutritious meals and make clothes.

Dr. Abdi has long performed surgical procedures herself, everything from Caesarean sections to tweezing out bullet fragments, though operations have been on hold because of the damage from the assault. Measles, malaria, diarrhea, epilepsy, tuberculosis and especially life-threatening malnutrition in a country constantly teetering on the edge of a full-blown famine are what she confronts on a daily basis, with some international assistance but far from enough equipment or medicine.
Around the two-story hospital, 15 miles down a shelled-out road from Mogadishu, a veritable city has sprung up over the years, 90,000 refugees living in bubble-shaped huts made out of plastic sheeting and sticks, people who have flocked here because it is considered one of the few safe zones in southern Somalia. The medical treatment is free, supported by donations.
The haven comes with some security guards and a few important rules. Among them: no man may beat his wife. The property even has a storeroom that doubles as a jail for offenders.
Hakima Mohamoud, a 50-year-old mother who had just given birth, recently arrived here with a tiny, listless, malnourished baby, who was immediately put on a feeding tube. It seemed to be working, and Mrs. Hakima marveled that her daughter’s life could be saved — for free.
“I’ve never, in my life, seen a free-of-charge hospital serving free medicines,” she said. “I don’t know how I will pay Hawa Abdi Hospital back.”
Many Somalis have essentially given up on their government helping them. So, too, it seems, has Dr. Abdi. When asked if she thought of calling the government forces that day in May, when she was surrounded by hundreds of militants, Dr. Abdi simply laughed.
“Oh no,” she said, “they can’t do nothing. They are only in the state house and they can’t go out.”
She gets excited every time the story comes up and described how the militants, during their brief seizure of her compound, even raised one of their signature black flags.
“As soon as they left, we pulled it down and put up a white one,” Dr. Abdi said.
It was made out of a hospital sheet.

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