Caring for needy children

“80 Years Ago Today the Stock Market Crashed” scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” I said. “It’s October 29^th.”

“I barely remember that,” Gramma said. “I was only about 9 years old.”

First, it amazes me how Gramma speaks of it as if “everyone” remembers that, as if there are loads of people running around now who have first hand knowledge of what it was like to live through the Great Depression, an event introduced by the Stock Market Crash, October 29, 1929. But, there’s a huge difference between knowing history, and LIVING history. We know about the stock market crash and the Great Depressions  from what we learned in school. She lived it.

“I do remember that my father didn’t get paid for teaching for 2 years,” she continued. “Two years he had to teach for free. At Christmas, we all only got one gift. I think mine was a blackboard. The boys probably got trucks.”

Second, it amazes me that she doesn’t weep over the memory of not getting anything for Christmas. She says it matter of fact, because in her mind that is just the way it was, the thing that happened. They lived through it, made concessions, and went on.

But that was then, this is now.

I remember when I was about 9 years old, my brothers and I used to “sled” down the grass hill near our house in cardboard boxes. We thought that was the coolest thing. We did it for hours until the boxes were nothing but cardboard sheets and we folded them up in front of us like toboggans, or stood on them to slide down the hill on the first  ”snowboards”.  Oh, we had sleds, too, but this was a major summer event, the box slide. At Christmas, we had a load of gifts from “Santa” under the tree, but I don’t remember any of them as much as I remember box-sledding, because that was something we came up with on our own, no batteries needed.

But that was then, this is now.

Well into my twenties, I would receive in the mail, a faithfully sent but most often belated, birthday card from Gramma. Inside was always a $10 bill. I remember how amazing that $10 was when I was 10,11,12, even 16. It was “mad money”.  Then, while the recession of the 80s was in full bloom, I remember how much that $10 came in handy. Now, that $10 wouldn’t bat an eye at what people need, nor would it ever feel like “mad money” to its recipient.

But that was then, this is now.

“My dad loved teaching,” Gramma continued. “He didn’t care whether they paid him, he was glad to do it.”

“So, what did you do for money?” I asked.

“Well, we still had the farm.”

Today, what Gramma called the farm, a physical, money and food producing entity, is called a 401k or another retirement or pension fund. Betting the farm, in financial terms, takes on a whole new meaning today.

Oh, but that was then….this is now.

I think it’s time for a little box-sledding.

Jika saya jadi Amitabh Bachchan, saya juga pasti tercengang-cengang dan loncat dari kursi ketika menonton Slumdog Millionaire (2008). Saya, eh, Amitabh punya alasan yang kuat untuk itu. Selama ini dalam film-film Bollywood ia begitu heroik dan selalu berperan sebagai jagoan, orang kaya yang tinggal di rumah mewah, dan menampilkan kehebatan-kehebatan negerinya, serta terkenal seantero dunia.

Jamal sedang menunggu kedatangan Amitabh Bachchan idolanya

Namun, tiba-tiba pria asal Inggris itu (baca: Danny Boyle) membuat manuver tajam yang sama sekali tidak diduga banyak orang. Ia dengan vulgar menggambarkan kehidupan masyarakat paling bawah dalam masyarakat India; potret anak-anak jalanan ala Charles Dickens, yang hidup dalam lingkungan yang kumuh, penuh kekerasan dan minus pendidikan yang layak. Saya, jika jadi Amitabh, juga pasti emosi melihat anak-anak India, yang mengidolakan saya, dijadikan ‘binatang’ dan ‘diburu’, dan dicaci maki karena nasib mereka. Dalam blog-nya, Amitabh mengatakan:

“If [Slumdog Millionaire] projects India as [a] Third World dirty underbelly developing nation and causes pain and disgust among nationalists and patriots, let it be known that a murky underbelly exists and thrives even in the most developed nations.”

Sepanjang film kita disuguhi tur gratis kehidupan jelata orang India. Dan barangkali, yang paling membuat Amitabh geram, hal tersebut disaksikan jutaan orang di seluruh dunia. Itulah yang dibuat oleh Boyle dalam film yang membawa pulang delapan piala Oscar, yang di antaranya untuk Best Motion Picture ini.

The Power of Coincidence
Slumdog Millionaire diangkat dari novel best-selling India berjudul Q & A karya Vikash Swarup. Diadaptasi ke dalam skrip oleh Simon Beaufoy, film ini bercerita tentang seorang pelayan yang mendapat kesempatan untuk ikut kuis Who Wants to Be a Millionaire yang pernah begitu booming pada periode 2003–  2006.

Semua orang suka kuis Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. Boyle sendiri mengakui bahwa salah satu dasar pembuatan film ini adalah karena ia menggemari kuis tersebut. Nasib film ini sepenuhnya terletak di bahu Jamal Malik (Dev Patel) yang sedang duduk di kursi panas berhadapan dengan Prem Kumar (Anil Kapoor), sang pembawa acara kuis. Selangkah lagi Jamal akan memecahkan rekor dengan memenangkan 20 juta Rupee. Namun sang pembawa acara dan polisi tidak percaya: bagaimana pula seorang yatim piatu, yang tidak bersekolah dan tinggal di daerah kumuh itu bisa menjawab seluruh pertanyaan dengan benar? Skeptisisme yang wajar dan masuk akal. Lalu, Boyle membawa kita ke tiap suspense, flash back, klimaks, dan detil kejadian yang memberikan jawaban untuk setiap pertanyaan kuis. Plot yang unik.

Tapi apakah semua itu bukan merupakan kebetulan belaka? Kebetulan saja setiap pertanyaan yang diajukan dalam kuis adalah representasi hidupnya. Kebetulan saja, misalnya, ketika Jamal diberitahu temannya bahwa foto dalam lembaran US$100 adalah Benjamin Franklin. Namun, “cinta akan menemukan jalannya” dan Boyle mengeksplorasi tema itu dalam setiap bingkai kilas balik kehidupan Jamal. Jika tidak percaya pada probabilitas dan peluang, silakan saja menganggap Slumdog Millionaire film yang mengada-ada.

Tapi seperti yang kita ketahui, tujuan Jamal bukanlah uang, tetapi cinta (huhuhu mulia sekali dia). Jamal benar-benar merepresentasikan lirik lagu “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?” (1956) yang dulu pernah dinyanyikan oleh Cole Porter: “Who wants to be a millionaire? I don’t, and I don’t, cause all I want is you...” Dalam setiap detil kejadian dalam hidupnya, Jamal berusaha mencari Latika (Freida Pinto), teman masa kecilnya yang sangat ia rindukan. Walaupun pada akhirnya ia tahu bahwa Latika telah dijadikan gundik seorang kepala preman, ia tetap mencintai Latika. Dialah jawaban semua pertanyaan yang diajukan kepada Jamal. Jamal hanya ingin ‘memenangkan’ Latika.

Anomali Tahun 2008
Menurut saya, Boyle sangat berani membuat film seperti Slumdog Millionaire. Padahal ia nantinya hanya akan punya dua hasil: gagal total atau sukses besar. Dan kita semua tahu bahwa pada akhirnya Boyle memperoleh yang kedua. Delapan piala Oscar bukanlah prestasi sembarangan (saya benci menjadikan Oscar sebagai parameter, tapi mau bagaimana lagi?).

Namun, Amitabh yakin bahwa Slumdog Millionaire terkenal hanya karena dibuat, disutradarai dan ditonton dari perspektif Barat. Amitabh merasa nasionalismenya ditelanjangi (memang dalam beberapa adegan Boyle menunjukkan superioritas Barat, seperti ketika dua orang turis Amerika ‘mengajari’ orang hitam India agar memperlakukan anak-anak dengan pantas. Boyle ‘gagal’ menghindari stereotip negatif yang mungkin muncul dari adegan tersebut). Salah seorang teman saya bergurau dengan mengatakan, “Coba kalau pembawa acara kuis itu diperankan oleh bung Amitabh Bachchan, pasti reaksinya akan lain.” Terlepas dari praduga teman saya, Amitabh punya poin sendiri yang dapat ia perdebatkan.

Namun bagi saya film ini tetaplah sebuah anomali pada tahun 2008; berbudjet rendah namun sangat menghibur, dibangun dengan tema sederhana bahwa “uang tak dapat membeli cinta” namun sangat dalam. Film ini juga diperkuat oleh tiga karakter (Jamal, Salim dan Latika) yang diperankan oleh sembilan orang dalam tiga fase. Semuanya begitu personal dan individualistik, sehingga kita tidak pernah salah mengetahui mana Jamal kecil, Salim remaja, atau Latika dewasa. Selain itu, Anil Kapoor yang memang merupakan superstar di India, juga memberikan karakter yang kuat kepada tokoh Prem, si Pembawa Acara kuis yang pongah itu. Sedangkan latar yang diambil begitu jujur dan nyata menggambarkan sisi lain kota Mumbai. Ditambah aransemen yang menggetarkan dari A.R. Rahman, Slumdog Millionaire rules!

PS: Oh ya, jangan khawatir untuk mengajak anak-anak berumur 10 tahun untuk menonton film ini. Walaupun ada sedikit adegan kekerasan, namun tidak begitu ditonjolkan. Sepertiga film ini diperankan oleh Jamal kecil, yang penuh perjuangan untuk bertahan hidup. Hal ini bisa jadi pelajaran bagus untuk anak-anak, bahwa di luar sana banyak anak sebaya yang bernasib sama sekali berbeda dengan mereka.

There lived in Savatthi a girl named Gotami, in poor circumstances, the daughter of an impoverished family. Because she was very thin and haggard, everyone called her Kisagotami, Haggard Gotami. When one saw her walking around, tall and thin, one could not fathom her inner riches. One might truly say of her:

Her beauty was an inner one,
One could not see its spark outside.

Due to her poverty and unattractiveness Kisagotami was unable to find a husband, and for her this was a cause of deep dejection. But one day it suddenly happened that a rich merchant chose her as his wife, for he appreciated her inner wealth and considered it more important than her family background or outer appearance. However, the other members of her husband’s family despised her and treated her contemptuously. This animosity caused her great unhappiness, especially because of her beloved husband, who found himself caught between love for his parents and love for his wife.

But when Kisagotami gave birth to a baby boy, the husband’s whole clan finally accepted her as the mother of the son and heir. Her relief was immense and she felt that a great burden had fallen from her back. Now she was totally happy and contented. Beyond the usual love of a mother for her child, she was especially attached to this infant because he was the guarantee of her marital bliss and peace of mind.

Soon, however, her happiness showed itself to be built on an illusion, for one day her little son suddenly felt ill and died. The tragedy was too much for her. She worried that her husband’s family would again despise her, saying she was kammically unable to have a son, and other people in the town would say, “Kisagotami must have done some very despicable deeds to merit such a fate.” Even her husband, she feared, might now reject her and seek another wife from a more favourable background. All such imaginings revolved in her mind and a dark cloud descended upon her. Refusing to accept the fact that the child was dead, she convinced herself that he was only sick and would recover if she could find the right medicine for him.

With the dead child in her arms, she ran away from her home and went from house to house asking for medicine for her little son. At every door she begged: “Please give me some medicine for my child.” And always people replied that medicine was useless, for the child was dead. She, however, refused to accept this, and passed on to the next house, still convinced that the child was only ill. While many scorned her and others mocked her, at last she met, among the many selfish and unsympathetic people, a wise and kind man who recognised that she had become mentally deranged because of her grief. He advised her to visit the best physician, the Buddha, who would surely know the right remedy.

She immediately followed his advice and hurried to Jetavana, Anathapindika’s monastery, where the Buddha was staying. Arriving in renewed hope, with the child’s corpse in her arms, she ran up to the Buddha and said to him, “Master, give me medicine for my son.” The Awakened One replied kindly that he knew of a medicine, but she would have to procure it herself. Eagerly, she asked what it could be.

“Mustard seeds,” he replied, astounding everyone present.

Kisagotami inquired where she should go to obtain them and what kind to get. The Buddha replied that she need bring only a very small quantity from any house where no one has ever died. She trusted the Blessed One’s words and went to the town. At the first house she asked whether any mustard seeds were available. “Certainly,” was the reply.

“Could I have a few seeds?” she inquired. “Of course,” she was told, and some seeds were brought to her. But then she asked the second question, which she had not deemed quite as important: “Has anyone ever died in this house?” “But of course,” the people told her. And so it was everywhere. In one house someone had died recently, in another house a year or two ago; in one house a father had died, in another a mother or a son or a daughter. She could not find any house where no one had ever died. “The dead,” she was told, “are more numerous than the living.”

Towards evening, she finally realised that she was not alone in being stricken by the death of a loved one: this was the common human fate. What no words had been able to convey to her, her own experience of going from door to door had made clear. She understood the law of existence, the law of impermanence and death within the ever-recurring round of becoming. In this way, the Buddha was able to heal her obsession and bring her to an acceptance of reality. Kisagotami no longer refused to believe that her child was dead: she understood that death is the destiny of all beings.

Such were the means by which the Buddha could heal grief-stricken people and bring them out of their overpowering delusion, in which they perceived the whole world from the narrow perspective of their own personal loss. Once, when someone was lamenting the death of his father, the Buddha asked him which father he meant: the father of this life, or of the last life, or of the life before that. For if one wanted to grieve, then it would be just as well to grieve for the other fathers too. Another time a grief-stricken person came to his senses when the Buddha pointed out to him that his son would be reborn and that he was only lamenting for an empty shell.

After Kisagotami had emerged from her delusion, she took the child’s lifeless body to the cemetery, buried it, and then returned to the Enlightened One. When she came to him he asked her whether she had gotten the mustard seeds. “Done, venerable sir, is the business of the mustard seeds,” she replied, “only grant me a refuge.” Thereupon the Master spoke the following verse to her:

When a person’s mind is deeply attached,
Infatuated with sons and cattle,
Death grabs him and carries him away
As a flood does a sleeping village.

As her mind had matured in the course of her ordeal, on hearing this one verse she won insight into reality and became a stream-enterer (first stage of liberation). Thereupon she asked for admission into the order of nuns. The Buddha gave his consent and sent her to the nuns’ quarters, where she received the going forth and the higher ordination as a Bhikkhuni.

After her ordination Kisagotami passed her time practicing and studying the Dharma. One evening, as she watched her oil lamp sputter, it occurred to her that the restlessly hissing flames were like the ups and downs of life and death. The Blessed One, aware that she was ripe for full attainment, came to her and again spoke a short verse:

Though one should live a hundred years
Not seeing the deathless state,
Yet better is it to live for a single day,
Seeing the deathless state.

When she heard these lines, she was able to shed all fetters and became one of the arahants, the liberated ones.

In her stanzas, Kisagotami describes the great joy the Buddha imparted to her. Therefore she praises friendship with the noble and holy ones:

To the world the Sage has praised
The value of noble friendship.
By resorting to noble friends
Even a fool becomes wise

One should resort to worthy people,
For thus one’s wisdom ever grows.
By resorting to worthy people
One is freed from all suffering.

One should know the Four Noble Truths:
Suffering and its origination
Then the cessation of suffering
And the Noble Eightfold Path.

Kisagotami knew the value of noble friendship from her own firsthand experience, for the compassionate Buddha, the most noble friend of all, had saved her from all suffering encountered in the terrible round of rebirths. In her verses of liberation, Kisagotami describes the various sufferings that are peculiar to women. Only when one penetrates a woman’s suffering as thus described can one realise the full extent of her gratitude toward the Buddha, who showed her the way to freedom:

The woman’s state is declared as painful
By the trainer of persons to be tamed.
The trainer of persons to be tamed
Has declared as painful the life of a woman.
Painful too is the state of a co-wife.

Some, having borne a child once,
In desperation cut their throats;
The delicate ones take poison.
When the baby obstructs the birth,
Both come to disaster – mother and child.

The final note of Kisagotami’s verse is not a lament but a cry of triumph, expressing her joy in finding liberation and release from all suffering:

Developed by me is the noble path,
The eightfold path leading to the Deathless.
I looked into the mirror of Dharma
And thereby I realised Nirvana.

With darts drawn out, the burden dropped,
I have done what had to be done.
The elder nun Kisagotami has recited this,
One with a mind well released.

- Author Unknown.

April Fools!

Hunger

She wraps herself in remnants of freedom
Cast-off ribbons and a tattered veil
Broken heart empty as her stomach
Her once-lush form now thin and pale

She watches the crowd flow past her
their eyes pay her no heed
In linen and leather they move onward
no care for her ache or her need

Across the square she sees a north man
axe slung across his broad back
at his knee a red-haired kajira
whom he treats with a rare, sweet snack

His hands hold a candy ‘tween his fingers
those hands so calloused and hard
Tenderly on her lips they linger
Possessively her body they guard

Such a marvel the hands of warrior
Dealing death or pleasure with a touch
If her hunger was heavy upon her
she might trade freedom for such

Across the square the man’s eyes catch hers
and she blushes caught in her yearning
She wraps herself in pride and freedom
and walks onward, her hunger still burning

Peace,

Some thoughts as we travel through the weekend…

-  Atty. General Holder went hard on America this week… The underlying message was ‘ America’s different, but it ain’t that different’… It will be interesting to see if he really activates on his perspective,  Let’s also remember, Holder’s no Joe Biden; He was given clearance from the big homie to bring it like that

-  Why does anyone really care about the Chris Brown/Rihanna situation?  It’s not that I support domestic violence; It’s that the only time the masses tackle this issue is when ‘Famous’ people get into it… We should show as much concern when women are forced to go into shelters & children are negatively impacted due to violence

-  Let’s see how mayors & governors handle the stimulus money coming from the federal government.  If they kowtow to special interests, it will only be more of the same…

-  Please check out Ta-nehisi Coates’ book The Beautiful Struggle . It’s a great book that made me look back at my own history growing up in the Black community during C.E. (The Crack Era).  Until more attention is given to that era, it will be difficult if not impossible to understand many of our current issues with crime & poverty in the community

-  It’s telling that Hilary Clinton went to China to discuss climate & not economics… Sometimes, you have to let sleeping dogs lie

-  About this NY Post Cartoon:  I don’t think that the cartoonist wasn’t specifically targeting Obama with the cartoon; I think that it’s a testament to the lack of sensitivity & civility present at the NY Post that you would even try to connect the two without being conscious of the ramifications… That said, they still need to be boycotted for the ignorance

Richard Rominger,Michael Dimock

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

California’s unfolding drought – now three years running – may prove to be the worst in recorded history. Farms have begun to fail, communities to crumble, food prices to rise and more people are going hungry. How we respond to the drought will offer us a template of how to respond to global climate change.

Response to Drought is dry run

SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE

“The Movie the world is talking about”

The Movie basically is about a boy, jamal, who is from the slums and his journey in life. Which starts from loosing his mother in the Muslim-Hindu riots to meeting lathika and subsequently falling in love with her to loosing her and finding a new life being a tour guide at the taj mahal and then working as a waiter in a restaurant in the suburbs of mumbai to finding lathika again as a dancer in a brothel and then helping her escape and paying the price by loosing both her and his brother [salim] who has been with him throughout to working as a “chai-wala” in a call centre and then finding his brother and through him, lathika, who are working for a mobster and is still hoping to get back together with her  to again loosing her at the VT station and  finally landing on the game show “kaun banega crorepathi?” [ who wants to be a millionaire?"] because he knows she will be watching the show and try to find out where she is. And surprisingly the questions that are asked to him on the show are all related to the events that happened in his life.

Now if one looks at this movie in such a way then there arises no question of representing India in a bad light. Its a fantasy movie, a movie about a boy from rags-to-riches.  How can one show someone from being poor to gaining new heights in his life? by making sure that the road to success was as difficult as hell which makes the audience feel good that the hero and especially here, the underdog, as emerged victorious with the girl and the money in the end.

So i don’t understand why people think that movie insults slum dwellers. No body is calling slum dwellers as dogs. Its just taken on the context of underdog which is just changed a little to suit the actual contents of the movie. Now obviously it sounds better than Underdog Millionaire right.

I do agree that the depiction of poverty is stereotypical especially since its coming from a western director. But the movie justifies its contents. Now i don’t know had the movie been made by an Indian, it would get worldwide recognition or not. I would guess probably not. But its not made by an Indian and the movie is getting all the attention. So the whole “IF” scenario is not needed.

The only drawback is that the movie shows only 2 good aspects – Jamal and lathika. Rest all characters are partially or fully negative. So it makes the movie’s background, i.e India look too bad than necessary. They could have balanced it better. Other than that the movie is perfectly fine, and i look at it only as a movie not as complete reality. Just like you don’t think actors who play mental characters in a movie are really mental in real life, its in the same way, that even though it has shown India’s negative side it does not mean that India doesn’t have a bright positive side too.

Over all the movie is good and besides A.r. Rahman i don’t really care about all the other awards its getting. And i don’t think anybody needs to think ” this is India” and all that’s shown in the movie to be taken against it. Just watch the movie and enjoy. Nothing else.

Watching: For Suzi

Feeling Guilty: For thinking the spreading of the incense at Midnight Mass sounded like the beginning of AC/DC’s ‘Back in Black’.

Thinking: We’ll see if these “sun” lights work.

How to Annoy Me: Refuse to communicate with me.

How to Charm Me: Fix my computer so it finally, finally, finally stops making that horrendous noise!

Quote of the Day: Poverty is freedom. It is freedom so that what I possess doesn’t own me, so that what I possess doesn’t hold me down, so that my possessions don’t keep me from sharing or giving of myself. – Mother Teresa

On the radio this morning they talked about how the local Salvation Army was hit by a rolling bus yesterday… after being robbed last week.

I think there’s a hint there somewhere from the Lord Almighty:

Stop giving useless bums free handouts!

How is it that educated, tax paying citizens are (sometimes) living pay cheque to pay cheque, barely able to buy nice presents for family and friends; yet, these “single-mom-too-busy-taking-care-of-their-child” (yea right), people who don’t believe in work, who curses the government are getting free handouts?

Even worse, these self-rightous yuppies who’s never been East of Main St. or even out of Yale Town, who don’t shop anywhere but Robson donates couple gifts, $20 or $40 here and there just to ease their guilty conscience. Just so they can continue to swim in the wealth they’re really NOT willig to share come January.

By now you probably realize I am a firm believer in the Lifeboat Ethics. (for more reading on this, visit the link below)

http://stairs.umd.edu/140/hardin.html

It is true, whether on an ethical level or not, that Earth is already over its carrying capacity. Meaning that we humans, population as a whole, is consuming more than what Earth is capable of producing. (See graph for what this really means).

Carrying Capacity - From: Plants and People by Hugh D. Wilson

Scaling down, it is as if the lifeboat we’re currently in is carrying more refuge than it should. And the food supply is quickly dwindling. In real life (or on Survivor), if this happens, then the weakest is automatically voted off (or eaten… given the right scenario). So then scaling back to Earth, should we just not let the hurricans and typhoon demolish these weak fucks who can’t survive? Surely, the ones who are meant to survive have survived. Come on, not everyone died in Katrina, right?

And for you religious folks out there, I offer this. If God created us, then surely God could destroy us (at will I might add). And who are you to argue with God about who lives and who dies? Maybe for these Katrina folks, that was their time, and God is now rewarding them in Heaven. Who knows.

And for you argument inclined folks, all I will say is this:
I don’t believe I should receive handouts even when I’m poor as fuck. I believe I will have to work for my money (such as those can collectors out there, good on ya). I also believe that as much as we believe that our society is “modernized”, we’re still nothing but mammals. When the need comes, we will fight each other to the death and the fittest will survive (after all, that’s how evolution has built us). No, I don’t believe I am a superior being because I have a brain and I can think and speak; I don’t believe I am “better” than an animal just because I can distinguish right from wrong (but honestly, can I really do that? or is it just an perception of MY right and wrong?). And if I was called upon to die I will argue my right to live (and fight to the death if need be). No dumb ass is just going to lie down and die. (maybe except those suicide folks… well, that brings me to another musings “Suicide”. Tune in later to see it in its mature form.)

So I say, quit messing with nature and let the weak fucks die. It eliminates several problems. The druggies, the homeless, the ones in poverty, and the lazy fucks who sticks their handout for government cookies (and thus lowering taxes).

Previously I’ve posted images (you can see them here) about the CuJuCa game day for children in Villa 31 behind the Retiro bus station. As I was looking over the images again today, I ran across these five photos. They jumped off the screen at me this time. I see reflected in each of these boys a game face that encompasses the look in the eyes, an open mouth yelling in celebration, the lean to the body or the twist of a hand. The game face is a face determined. It is a face reflecting, nerviousness, struggle, defeat, celebration and concentration. The boys here were focusing their attention on a ring toss game.

“Imagine a GIRL living in POVERTY”

Now IMAGINE what can happen when you give something to her life. Here are images from one local event that is trying, through games and fun, to make a difference for just a day. Of the 20 or so social groups that participate in the CuJuCa festival, many are active on a weekly or regular basis inside Villa 31. I chose images of the girls I photographed this day to support the message of The Girl Effect .

You can donate here.

This post is my contribution to Blog Action Day. It may be the 16th of October when I post this, but somewhere in the world, it is still the 15th, so this still counts.

The world is a stage, where the haves meets the have-nots. Everyday, as I go to work, go home, or go somewhere, I see it. I feel it. Sometimes, I exemplify it.

Poverty, especially in these times, is a growing facet (albeit in a negative sense) of our lives. With the fiscal panic going on, it only exacerbated the issue. It’s hard times out there. The world is pretty much experiencing it. From Sports (Roger Goodell has spoken about it, ditto the NBA i.e. The Nets) to Music, to everything else. You could understand the apprehension and tension in Wall Street and Main Street. Catatonic shock. You could imagine that things are not going to be the same for awhile. It is apparent that the reviving an economy reliant on credit will be difficult. Hopefully, such problems will be averted and as such, the world as we know it, still survives and chaos is prevented or minimized.

Poverty is a state of mind. It is a sense that there is something lacking, something missing. You yearn for. In Filipino, isang kakulangan. No one can escape this aspect of poverty, for we all want something in our lives. There is always that one little thing we seek and ask for. It is important that each and everyone strives to eradicate it, but how do you solve it?

Material Poverty is something that needs to be addressed pronto. The world is kind of regressing and it must be prevented to maintain sanity and normalcy. How? Given right now, the proper fiscal management. As simple as minimizing unnecessary expenditures or being cost-conscious.

For the other aspect, one can simple be himself and ascribe to be the best person he or she could be. Don’t just settle. Strive to be the best. To go for it. To get it done. To be who he can be. Until then….

We just need to fight. It starts with one. The rest follows.

To me, poverty, disease, famine, hunger, and the world of isms that perpetuate them can all be tracked back to one phenomenon: the loss of natural resources, which in turn can be traced back to one major societal character defect: greed.

We live in a world that is dramatically using resources much faster than the planet can regenerate them, all to support our get-as-rich-as-possible, growth-before-human well-being, have-and-have-not capitalist society. Greed’s wake has had devastating effects on people throughout history: wars, slavery, imperialism, colonization, genocide, ghettos, jails – and perhaps worst of all, our environment is collapsing around us. Certainly, we have our favorite sneakers and our iPhones, but are we happy? The answer is no. Particularly not when, in the back of your mind, you know folks in Sudan have literally no food, and poverty in the US is rising faster than the unemployment rate and the eviction rate, which is saying a lot right now.

But how do we solve these seemingly intractable problems? Two ways. First, by immediate, on-the-ground efforts by grassroots organizations. Education is key to curbing poverty, and we’ve always known this. Creating a place of comfort where people have their needs met (food, shelter, clothing, relative safety) is critical before education can happen. These are not small feats and must happen immediately. Tons of organizations are doing this good work already. Support them.

And while this kind of work can have lasting effects, who is to say that it won’t all happen again unless the fundamental values of our society change? And this is where environmentalism and a gift economy come into play.

Without a planet, every other discussion about health, equality, and relief is moot. No planet=no people. The impacts of greed on our environment in our grow grow grow consumerist society can be seen in the build-up of carbon in the atmosphere, in the farmlands turned to dust bowls, in the world-wide droughts, erratic and destructive weather patterns, loss of fisheries and drinking water, and finally, and perhaps most immediately relevant, the collapse of economies.

While grassroots work is being done from the bottom up to alleviate pressure on people, massive systems change must occur at the top to move our society out of its current economic model. You could keep raking your leaves into piles, but the wind will soon come and blow them all away. So you have to rake, and find a way to shelter yourself from–or change the path–of the wind.

The only possibility I see as feasible to really changing the way our society functions is to move from a greed economy to one of philanthropy, conservation, and respect of all creatures. We need to find a way to live in balance with our planet. Without parity (human to human, human to species, all species to planet), there can never be peace, so we MUST find a way to convert our boundless-growth capitalist system (which requires, for its function, someone to be “on the bottom”) to one of boundless cooperation and equality.

Philanthropists with millions and billions need to offload those funds now. If our economic disaster of the past week tells you anything, it is that money will be irrelevant by 2050. So don’t hold on to it. People need it now. Find a way to make an impact and get moving. I am appalled by community foundations with assets of billions sitting on that pile, and building their principal. They should be planning their 20-year pay downs and truly changing the infrastructure and systems of their communities.

Nations needs to start valuing natural capital rather than paper and markets. We need to build infrastructures with zero-cost energy systems. We need to build societies that value human welfare and human contact rather than headphones and individuality (e.g. isolation). We need to become open-minded, compassionate, loving people.

One man (he’s from my town!) has a fantastic idea for how to move the US out of it’s situation of poverty and environmental disaster: by creating a Green Collar Economy. Van Jones is the author of what is turning out to be one of my favorite books of 2008: The Green Collar Economy: How One Solution Can Fix Our Two Biggest Problems. His idea is to move our economy out of the growth-at-all-costs model and while doing it, we can lift ourselves out of poverty by empowering us with the trades and skills necessary to build a green infrastructure. Two birds with one stone: people get jobs, and the jobs stimulate the economy and the economy turns to one of zero-impact energy. Call it a Green New Deal. He does.

Get his book, read more about his organization, and watch this interview with him. Change the way you think about things and maybe, change the world.

Finalmente. Finally. I thought I’d post a few photographs from Gloria’s house. Gloria Rodriguez, 44, lives in Villa 31 behind the Retiro bus station in Buenos Aires, Argentina. She works at a cooperative called the Comedor Los Pibes in La Boca. There she spends her day sewing or participating in marches or protests as the comedor is quite politically active. Gloria earns a ‘plan’ of $150 pesos (@$50USD) per month, in addition to food the comedor doles out once a week to each member. She supplements her groceries with a bank card that supplies money from the gov’t (national?? not sure which program), so she can buy additional items. Gloria has six children. Three are grown (Mariana, posted earlier, is one of her older children). Living in her house now is her daughters, Pamela, 16, Gabriela, 14, son Ezekiel, 11, and her mother Maria Amelia, 79. With five (or six people if her older son, Juan, 26, is there) people currently in the house, everyone shares a bed. They have two bunk beds, but only three beds available, because the top of the one Maria Amelia sleeps on is used to store bags of clothes and other items. The bathroom facilities consist of a large hole in the ground out in front of the house, covered in wood planks with a toilet propped on top and an outhouse build around it. The kitchen, half inside and half outside, is one burner with gas supplied by propane (cost @$35pesos a tank).

As Gloria and I talked the other day I asked her if she worked before. She gets is money through the plans (gov’t sponsored) and the possibly the sewing, but she may go months before she sees any profit from the sewing because the cooperative must complete a job before the gov’t will pay them. Gloria and her family once rented an apartment in La Boca. When the family was there she worked for a cleaning business, as she explained, about 14 hours a day to earn about $220pesos ($73USD) a month. I am still in shock over this figure and questioned her multiple times to gage its accuracy. I’ll definitely confirm it a few more times.

More photos to come. I am definitely still shooting and other families as well.

Gandhi must come

Nuclear deals
Communal riots
Political impotency
Corrupt veins
False promises
Notwithstanding.

Gandhi must stay

Heal hearts
Lead minds
Treat with love
Listen in patience
Nurture lives
Singlehandedly.

Gandhi must think

Powerful slogans
Empowering thoughts
New order
Fresh ideology
Bold endeavours
Forever.

Gandhi must preach

No borders
Interfaith unity
End to poverty
Self reliance
Inner strength
Unanimously.

Gandhi must cry

Unwilling friends
Failed experiments
Loss of humanity
Selfish dreams
Brittle hopes
Persisting.

Gandhi must die

Nation’s birth
Freedom on rise
Joy of creation
Public service
Golden era
Unveiling.

And there was the one time that my step dad smoked crack. Or at least the one time I am absolutely sure of it. I can be so sure because he came back home from whatever buddy’s house accusing us of having misplaced his rock. Crack rock. I was trying to ignore the manic search going on in my parents room for the rock and hoping he would rush back out to wherever he had just come from so we could get back to trying to ignore the roaches in the apartment. My friends were more keen to help my dad find his crack rock. I don’t know if they were just interested in seeing some real hardcore drugs or if they were oblivious to the fact that my dad shouldn’t be smoking crack and that him finding it was actually not a good thing. “Hey, did you look look in the duck box?” “Maybe it it’s next to the ashtray over there.” “It’s not in your pocket, is it?” Bingo. Seems this wasn’t his first magical hit of the day he was about to be embarking on, or else he might have remembered it was on his person the whole time. And wouldn’t have had to threaten us of within a cunt hair of your fucking lives if so-fucking-help-me God one of you motherfuckers so much as touched my rock.

They seemed impervious to his threats, not realizing that the words coming out his mouth were backed by an honest intention to hurt whomever was standing in the way of his very true desire to get fucked up. I guess I could have shared my concerns about his ruthlessness and warned them to be a little more wary of my step dad, but then I would have had to provide some examples to back up my claims that I would’ve rather not shared. We didn’t directly acknowledge any of the incidents between my mom and step dad. Not in my family. Not between my mom and us, not between me and my brother or sister, and not ever between my mom and step dad, unless my mom was itching to get the shit beaten out of her again. There was no need to discuss it. We had the screams and the door-rattling crashes and the beer cans in the kitchen and the frightened looks between the kids and don’t forget the bruises and cuts and swollen faces to tell us everything there was to know about the situation. Not that my friends didn’t see those tell-tale signs, there are only so many times somebody’s mom could believably trip on her shoelaces or slip in the tub or accidentally lock the bedroom door and have to smash her had through it to get into the room before they could smell bullshit. But while the aftermath of a hurricane can seem terrible to someone watching the news, those who lived through it are just happy they made it out in one piece and the resulting situation is ________ in comparison to the moment when the storm was bearing down on their house trying to annihilate them.

They could sense my discomfort concerning the whole situation once the search was completed and my step dad unceremoniously bee-lined back to the party with only a rushed glance around the filthy living room giving him any pause. I think we went back to talking about music videos or trying to mimic the Wu-Tang Clan. No one mentioned the whirlwind of dysfunction that had passed through our lives just a moment before.