I was born into a life, where life was no life, in the ghettos of Kawangware, otherwise known as Ngwaro, where it is hell everyday. My best friend, Akinyi, came from Laini Saba in Kibera. Their house was very close to the railway line such that if they were in the real estate business in London, they would advertise it as thus: One room available, very close to overground rail link – two minutes walk from house INTO train!!! Ours was a shack next to the market. No, not Kawangware market (that’s our shopping centre, our mall.), but soko mjinga… lots of mutura and sambusa sold by the road side, and vegetable vendors open till mid-night with their kerosene lanterns.
I was a girl in the hood, life misunderstood, nowhere I could go, from the hell that I know. No community that cares about a girl’s hopes and fears. I was going insane, yet who could I blame? Where were our leaders? Oh, I know… in the leafy suburbs of Karen and Lavington, hidden behind high electric fences and inside heated pools, munching on Quiche and Kebabs, awaiting their chauffeur driven kids to be dropped back from the after school sports clubs. But I didn’t care then, for we had our own playing grounds that needed no car rides. Infact, I didn’t know we lived in poverty until I grew up; until age opened my eyes and made me see the differences in our God-forsaken lives. I looked at the lives ‘they’ led, then looked back at mine – poverty, injustice and crime, all of the time. Violence and hate, no hope of escape. There is no way you could understand, you don’t live in my land. You probably have never been there, only reading about it in the papers, and watching our poor souls on TV. Expectations were low. No one cared what I knew, or if I knew anything at all, or how bad it was knowing. And the school I went to… lets leave that for another day. Teachers’ apathy, uncaring faculty, no help from nobody, distraction surrounding me… I was just a girl growing up, thinking about hooking up, no one to tell me no, not here in the ghetto. My folks too busy trying to make ends meet, they didn’t even think of me. If they did, there was no time to show it. They had problems of their own, so I was all alone. Then it happened.
What’s going on with me? See, my body was changing. Who can I ask these things, what the hell’s wrong with me? My friend Akinyi was killed only a week gone, so no one really to talk to. There was a rito in her neighbourhood, because the tenants don’t want to pay rent. So tenants and landlords started fighting… neighbour against neighbour. Brother against brother. Landlord against landlord. Isn’t it easy, that if you rent a house you expect to pay rent? You see, tenants in Akinyis neighbourhood are different. When they rent a house, they expect to own it after a while. That’s what killed Akinyi. Someone didn’t want to pay rent anymore, and didn’t want to move out of the property. So they started a fight in Kibera. A machete in each hand, slaying anything that was on their way. All hell broke loose and it was every man for himself, and God for them all. For Akinyi… it was her and her Maker. Rest in peace, my dear friend.
Drugs take my pain away, I’ll take them everyday. Give me another drink; yes, I will wait for it to cool, but be quick… I am losing my patience. What happened to me last night, why can’t I stand upright? Cramps overtaking me; what the hell’s wrong with me? A few more weeks go by; I’m puking day and night. Doc says I’m carrying a child inside of me. Doc must be mad! I need to be carried, not to be carrying!!!
Where did my life go wrong? Who else can sing my song? Where does the blame belong? How long can this go on? I was born in the ghetto, I am still in the ghetto, and now I bring another life in the ghetto… who will break this cycle? Who will remove this curse that lingers upon my head?

I have had so many things happen in my life, some good, some bad and some just… there. I keep telling myself that it is life, that it’s how life is destined to be. I try so hard not to spend much of my time feeling sad, so I am mostly a happy and ‘smily’ kind of girl. I don’t let anything turn my smile into a frown, or my sunshine into rain. And if anyone turns my sunshine into rain, I don’t stay indoors looking out the window wishing – ‘if only!’. No. I run out and jog in the rain. I splash in the water paddles like I have always done since I was a kid. I watch for the rainbow and count the colours every time. I pick my favourite rainbow colour, and colour my world in it. I watch the grasshoppers, and listen to the birds.
This is my world.

(The author of the above article has requested anonymity. She now resides in the UK, working bila ma-paper and helping her parents who still live in Ngwaro. Her son is now 12 and resides with her parents. As you would expect, ‘Prince’ is now the “chali wa mtaa”… what with internet and a laptop at home. Hommie gear sent from UK and a blackberry that turns even his local ‘kajora’ (councellor) green with envy? I ask my friend what the use of all this stuff is to a 12yr old. She tells me… “how else will they know his mother lives abroad?”)

At least 200 families are feared homeless after a blaze sweeps through a shanty town in the Brazilian city of Sao Paulo…. From BBC News. Full story

This site may contain information about: mackinaw city. The blog is also related to: virginia city.

(This is an old post, and a goodie.)

Armageddon. Pearl Harbor. Bad Boys. These movies have six things in common: bombastic action, ham-fisted acting, dumb explosions, ADD-like editing, unnecessary romance and Michael Bay. The cinematic auteur/Helen Keller of the movie industry, Michael Bay has managed to make a career out of catering to the lowest of the lowest common denominator–making popcorn flicks that are jam-packed with empty calories and brain cancer. (He centered Pearl Harbor, a movie about the BOMBING of Pearl Harbor, around a love triangle!) If any director is proof of making a deal with the Devil, it’s this dude.

A picture is worth a thousand words.

So it was no surprise that his work needed to be celebrated–any be celebrate, I mean mock openly and cruelly. Picking two bad Michael Bay movies was like picking which Wayans Bros. movie was not an NAACP violation. We ended up settling on The Island, a futuristic, high-concept/low-executed action flick, and Bad Boys II, a present-based, low-concept/lower-executed exercise in self-hatred. We didn’t even make it an hour into Bad Boys II, which says a lot about the quality and time length of this shit. (2+ hours for each movie? 2.5 hours for Bad Boys II?!?!?)

"Plan Your Escape... from the theater."

We started with The Island, which for most directors would be the black mark on their resume; for Michael Bay, it will be his magnum opus. The setting is a futuristic world where rich humans clone themselves for spare organs and parts. (If I spolied it for you, be thankful that you don’t have to see it.) The “insurance policy” clones live in an underground Arizona facility (yay?), cut off from the human world. The “Island” appears to be the nirvana the innocent, simple-minded clones are waiting for, with one person “picked” to leave the facility for an exotic giveaway; in actuality, it was their call-up to serve their function as organ/baby/limb generators. Lincoln Six Echo (Ewan McGregor) learns the secret of The Island and the trappings of the underground area, freeing Jordan Two Delta (Scarlett Johansson) and discovering the truth–complete with dumb explosions. ham-fisted acting and bombastic action sequences in the process.

"We're in WHAT movie?!"

So what is bad about this, you ask? Good question, as it sounds pretty interesting. In reality, it’s far from it. While the movie sounds like the Blade Runner/Logan’s Run action-thriller that would have been nice, it was just another dumb Michael Bay movie. Bombastic action: check; That ham-fisted acting: check (particularly the overacting of Michael Clarke Duncan and the blank-slate blahness of Johansson); Dumb explosions: brain-rotting check; ADD-like editing: check (following this movie was like playing Pong on crack); Unnecessary romance: check (formulating a romance in a futuristic action-thriller is like the chocolate chips in a pancake-coated sausage-on-a-stick: superfluous, silly and stupid).

Ewan McGregor and Scarlett Johansson's romance in The Island.

And the two biggest crimes were that this shit went on for more than 2 hours, and that Johansson was refused the opportunity to do a nude scene. (In an industry like Hollywood that expects actresses to go in the buff to either lend a movie artistic credibility or save a B/C-grade pile of dreck, Michael Bay insisted Scarlett not take the naked walk–once again showing he has no idea what to do with a movie.) By the time the credits rolled, I felt robbed of a lot of things, and while it sounds like I’m being pervy by going on about Scarlett’s lack of skin, it would have made a horrible movie merely mediocre.

Speaking of horrible, we then watched Bad Boys II.

Look at the flames! Flames mean AWESOME!

Oh lord, this movie was bad. Because the world banged down Michael Bay and Jerry Bruckheimer’s door for a sequel to the Shakespearean drama known as Bad Boys, we were shoveled this crap followup. Set several years after the first action-comedy buddy romp, we are thrust into a Miami ecstasy drug ring, and only our two joke-cracking wiseguy cop heroes (Will Smith as Mike Lowrey, Martin Lawrence as Marcus Burnett) can save the day!

"We're in WHAT movie?!"

Because we only made it through one hour of the 147-minute runtime (that’s 2.5 hours for you math-challenged folks), there’s not much to comment on. However, there was more than enough to hate. (And we missed the destructive car chase in Cuba, plowing through poor shanty-like homes like playing cards, as well as numerous N-word bombs.) Bombastic action: check (over-the-top violence and destruction); That hamfisted acting: CHECK (lots of yelling and mugging by both Lawrence and Smith; histronic cookie-cutter police chief Joe Pantoliano); Dumb explosions: check and check; ADD-like editing: check (I swear that I went cross-eyed at one point); Unnecessary romance: check. (Lowrey carries on a secret romance with Syd, played by Gabrielle Union, who is the sister of Burnett and is also an undercover cop. WHAT?!?)

Had we finished this epic crassness of a movie, there would be more to complain about. Perhaps that was for the best. Since we didn’t, here’s another AWESOME poster:

The flames! The explosions! The moistness!

This was the first time we were not able to fully complete a Bad Movie Night. I think that warrants a future Michael Bay Bad Movie Night to polish off the dirty deeds of the first. It should be fun… and awful.

UNTUK SIAPA
by shanty

Ada hati yang patah dan itu hatiku
Rasanya nyawa ini tak ada karnamu
Keinginan hatiku di repak mataku
Sayangnya kau belum juga merasa

Reff:
Kau pikir aku ada di sini untuk apa
Kau kira sejauh ini ku datang untuk siapa
Sangat ingin ku katakan ini untukmu

Kau pengaruh terpenting di dalam hidupku
Entah apa ku juga terpenting bagimu
Oh keinginan hatiku, oh di depan mataku
Sayangnya kau belum juga merasa

Repeat Reff

Untukmu..
Untukmu..

Ini untukmu..
Untukmu.. Ooo ooo ooo

Kau pikir aku ada di sini untuk apa
Kau kira sejauh ini ku datang untuk siapa
Kau rasa kulakukan apa pun untuk siapa
Sangat ingin ku katakan ini untukmu
Untukmu..
Untukmu..
Ini untukmu..

Kooma Village

I’m really strugging with reintry into my 1st-World lifestyle after three weeks in a 3rd-World reality in southern Africa.

I’ve experienced 3rd-World living before. I studied in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere Mexico during college, and built a church in a little village in poverty-stricken central Brazil. And yet, this transition seems harder for me. The situation in Africa — ever more desperate.

In addition to extreme poverty among the citizens, the mass migration of millions fleeing from tyrannical governments, such as Zimbabwe, strains scarce resources to the breaking point.

SnakePark

So, what drew me to Africa? Business? Pleasure? A little of both. This trip was an “occupational survey” for my youngest daughter, who completes her graduate studies in 2010 with a degree in counseling. Her specialty is play therapy, to help children work through traumatic experiences. She has a heart for children of the AIDs epidemic.

Kids from the street.

Her time in South Africa and Mozambique last summer introduced her to the “child-head-of-household” crisis caused by AIDs. With parents dying and children forced to raise their siblings, they are forced into early adulthood without the emotional maturity for the job. My daughter wants to help the children cope with tragedy in their young lives.

JAM: Change a Life. Feed a Child

We embarked on a “survey” of potential organizations where she might contribute her counseling skills. In South Africa, we met with  JAM (Joint Aid Management), which feeds starving children across Africa; Door of Hope, which accepts abandoned babies no-questions-asked (CNN reported on Door of Hope the day we visited), Bethany House Trust, a home for orphan and foster children with a holistic approach to treatment and placement; and a Soweto Township Primary School and Day Care. In Zambia, my daughter accompanied a Play Therapy specialist to a local orphanage to meet the children.

I offer a few observations from the trip.

South Africa:

Nelson Mandela poster in school.

We saw and spoke with people on both sides of the apartheid system of government in South Africa, which is a relatively new democracy after the handover of power from white to black leadership in 1994. South Africa has 1st-World infrastructure in the historical “have” population, and a 3rd-World reality for the have-nots.

In the 19 years since apartheid was abolished, South Africa’s infrastructure for the ‘few’ has been shifted to cover the ‘many’ — straining the country’s resources.

Abandoned Power Station

Electricity, under apartheid, was only available for the white population in the cities. The black townships had no power. Now that the power stations are supporting the total population, the system shuts down regularly. Without new power stations, the infrastructure can’t cope with the demand. Power is often “hijacked” by makeshift power lines strung from the overhead cables to the ground. These wires, when not properly grounded but held down by a pile of rocks, bring tragedy to innocent children playing in the area who stumble across the hot wires.

Desperate people do desperate things.

SnakePark

Woman Fetching Water

In preparation for the upcoming 2010 World Cup events in South Africa, the government of South Africa is providing propane heaters and cooktops to lessen the demand on electricity. One of our cab drivers told us how welcome the propane units are, though he held held little confidence the units could put a dent in the problem. At least, he informed us, his wife could cook for him when the power went out. (I won’t even TOUCH the division of labor between men and women. That would fill an entire book, not a just a blogpost.)

Portia's 1-room tin shack

We visited squatter villages, many filled with destitute emigrants who fled from other countries to the cities in “Hope in Africa.” We met with Portia who came to South Africa from an unnamed neighboring country. She allowed us into her one-room shack. No water. No plumbing. No electricity. She graciously told us about her life (as interpreted by my buddy Mike who speaks a dozen or so languages). Outside her little tin shack she planted little cactus gardens. (You can see her water buckets outside the structure in the picture.)

The human spirit is amazingly abounding, even in the most hopeless times.

Making the best of circumstances

AIDs epidemic:

Big Smiles Day Care

Dan (name changed for privacy issues), our escort for a day in the Soweto Township (home of Nelson Mandela, Desmond Tutu, and Dan), is HIV-positive. He told us the story of how he found out. His second son had health issues. After repeatedly taking him in for treatment, the doctor suggested an AIDs test since the boy exhibited the telltale sign of lumps behind his ears. The boy tested positive. Dan’s wife admitted she was HIV-positive. Dan tested positive too. He felt devastated and betrayed. They lost their youngest boy to AIDs. No medicine was available to help him.

Big Smiles Day Care

Dan had two choices: leave his wife or stay with her. The doctor counseled that their healthy son could soon be an orphan, as so many other children who lose both parents to AIDs. The boy should enjoy his parents as long as possible. Dan chose to forgive his wife and stay a family.

On the happy side of this story, Dan and his wife have enrolled in an AIDs program through a US NGO (I’m not sure which one) which gives them drug cocktails for free. He boasted his white blood cell count as being in a really good range. He threw out numbers that met the world to him, yet nothing to me. I had to ask what was a dangerous vs. acceptable number. I admit. I really knew very little about the battle against AIDs beFORE this trip. I am now painfully aware now.

To quote Dan:

Everyone is either infected or affected by AIDs.

Plight of Children:

Primary School Principal

When visiting a primary school in the Soweto Township, the principal spoke to us in a dark office. Power had been out for a couple of weeks. She’d been assured they would have power sometime the following week. She told us of her challenges running the school. Children starve. Their parents die of AIDs. They, themselves, are infected. Older children care for younger siblings. They may or may not have family to help. Many drop out and end up on the streets.

Playground Games

The principal told us a story. One of her young students quit coming to school. She discovered he was caring for his deathly ill Mother, as well as his brothers and sisters. The principal found a hospice organization to take the Mother in. After proper treatment, she returned home to care for her own children.

So, why isn’t the same care available to ALL infected parents?

The principal explained she can’t help when she doesn’t know the family has a problem. Many parents won’t admit they are sick, much less that their children are sick.

Stigma. Shame. Fear.

Can you resist that face?

The government now provides a grain product so that every child has one meal a day at school. The principal told us that she asks for a donation every week from the children that allows her to buy spices, olive oil and other ingredients to add to the porridge-type substance they serve the children — just to give it a flavor. She also has them bring in containers to take the grain home for the days when school is closed. Otherwise, they may not eat until school opens again.

Many of the children experience sexual, physical, and emotional abuse. Rape is rampant. How do you build hope in a child who has so little and so little to live for? (Thankfully, my daughter has skills to help.)

And yet, those with the least keep going…in spite of it all.

Thumbs up after receiving new "tropicals" or flip-flops

Zambia:

Streets of Livingstone

My long-lost aunt Melody and my uncle Phil are missionaries with the people of Zambia. My aunt found me two days after I joined Facebook. She invited us to visit. Since we planned to travel to South Africa, we decided to hop over to Zambia while in the neighborhood. We spent a glorious week with Melody in Livingstone while my uncle was in the US for surgery. Girl-time!

Power is sporatic in the city. Thursday is their “load-shedding” night where the city goes dark for 3-4 hours. I can only assume the government is selling that “saved” electricity to a neighboring country, perhaps. That’s only my speculation. Power went out Saturday morning for several hours, but I’d gotten up early to download pics to Facebook, so I felt proud to beat the outage. No hot breakfast though.

Lion King welcomes Chinese investment.

What surprised me the most? Chinese infrastructure EVERYwhere. Roads. Schools. Buildings. Why, you may wonder? Infrastructure in exchange for mineral rights. Zambia is rich in copper, amethyst, aquamarine, beryl, emerald, tourmaline, garnets and more.

Kooma Village Community School

In comparison to the shantytowns in South Africa, the poverty in the Zambian villages felt hopeful. I know that sounds strange. To me, the squalor of the squatter towns in South Africa felt oppressive, yet the villages felt almost quaint. They looked artistic, picturesque. Even the poverty of a one-room school hut seems idyllic.

Mukuni Village: Home of Lion King

The villages still operate with a strong sense of community. Village elders. Social heirarchy. Family structure. They are established and well-run. The shacktowns, in comparison, come together in chaos of uprooted people with no community ties. Society breaks down. Crime and despair follow.

What’s Next?

So what now? What can I do to make a difference?

Zambian boy

Over 30 years ago, my Daddy felt a burden for starving people in Africa. He tried to persuade our extended family to cut back on lavish Christmas spending and give gifts to those who needed it most. We adopted the idea later when my girls were little. We agreed with family to exchange Christmas ornaments and give donations in family member’s honor. Our girls chose Toys for Tots. We gave them an amount we would normally spend on gifts and let them shop for toys.

Street Boys

We piled the toys into a mountain, took their picture in front of it, and give the picture as our gift to family. In recent years, we’ve given gifts through the World Vision Gift catalog. And last year, after I met with folks from JAM, I give gifts to JAM in my daughters’ names. And yet, these contributions feel so incredibly inadequate.

Mukuni Village Boy

My time in Africa reminded me of Daddy and how God broke his heart for the people of Africa. (And how cool that his youngest brother is now living and serving in Africa!) There I was, in the very place, looking at the very faces he yearned to help.

I want to do more.

Bethany House Transport

Bethany House Trust, a Christian-based organization, stole my heart on this trip. I want to find a way to help get the word out about the amazing things they do in their community. Gert Jonkers told us they spend R4000 per month per child ($510). The government reimburses them R1000 per month ($127). The government is five months behind in payment. Gert and Antoinette have used all their savings to keep Bethany House afloat. In this economy, many like organizations already folded.

Bethany House Playground

$1 each would help. $50 would be a tremendous contribution. I don’t think they are set up for US contributions, but you can contact them directly to see how YOU can help.

So I leave you with this double rainbow I discovered over Victoria Falls. I saw the red flower, walked over to take its picture, and saw the most gorgeous site EVER! What a wonderful sign of hope and new beginnings.

Double Rainbow over Victoria Falls

Shake down shanty town.
I see that moon coming up
and feel the jelly between my finger and thumb
like magnet gum.
Time for phosphorescence.
Let’s melt down to our
skeleton metal
and bang blue enamelware
against our forearms.

Tonight we throw ice
at the light bulbs
and grind
that fine glass
in the dirt.
We build scrim walls
between us
and the end of the world.

Top Hit 2009 lainnya

1. Mbah Surip – Enek Enak Keenakan (Apr 2009)    >>mp3
2. Vierra – Rasa Ini (Apr 2009)    >>mp3
3. Ran – Ratu Lebah (Mei 2009)    >>mp3>>lirik-kord
4. Angkasa – Jangan Ada Dusta Diantara Kita (Mar 2009)    >>mp3
5. Luna Maya feat. Dide Hijau Daun – Suara (Apr 2009)    >>mp3
6. Saykoji – Gamers Indonesia (Jul 2009)    >>mp3
7. Dmasiv – Semakin (Jun 2009)    >>mp3>>lirik-kord
8. Shanty Ft. Donee Maulana – Untuk Siapa (Apr 2009)    >>mp3>>lirik-kord
9. Dygta – Cinta Sudah Terlambat (Mei 2009)    >>mp3
10. Gigi – My Facebook (Apr 2009)    >>mp3

1. Wali Band – Adinda
2. Shanty Feat Donee Giant – Untuk Siapa
3. Afgan – Akhir Persahabatan
4. Dygta – Cinta Sudah Terlambat
5. Luna Maya Feat Dodirama – Lebih Baik Mencintai Dari Pada


1. http://www.ziddu.com/download/5847926/Wali_Band_-_Adinda.rar.html
2. http://www.ziddu.com/download/5849124/Shanty_Feat_Donee_Giant_-_Untuk_Siapa.rar.html
3. http://www.ziddu.com/download/5849518/Afgan_-_Akhir_Persahabatan.rar.html
4. http://www.ziddu.com/download/5850165/Dygta_-_Cinta_Sudah_Terlambat.rar.html
5. http://www.ziddu.com/download/5850850/Luna_Maya_-_Lebih_Baik_Mencintai_Dari_Pada.rar.html


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Selengkapnya . . .

Reggae music is one of my favorite forms of music.  I’m sure you can see this for yourself upon visits to this site.  I was attracted to reggae because of the positive messages in the music and the inspiring words so often sang on behalf of the less fortunate in our communities and our world.  Not only do reggae artist sing for the uplift of humanity, but many other artist contribute vocally to our betterment.  Even today’s gospel music is producing artistes and songs that are taking on a world view in the lyrics. But things seem to be going the opposite direction.  I’m aware not all people listen to reggae music, but shouldn’t the fact that these words being sang, like prayers, into the realm of the unseen, begin to produce a better society?

Words are the seeds of creation, a song enhances the creative process.  The bible teaches that in the beginning was the Word.  Many traditions teach that the Creator sang a song of creation and the sound became light.  So then, with so many songs of Love/Enlightenment/Uplift being spread around the world why are we not beginning to see healing?  Why are we seeing such malicious violence being wrought on humanity?  Is it fear producing such actions?  Are we living in such times that we really have succumbed to the (M/L) formula?  Material over life-love. 

Two things have recently occured in my life that causes me to  think, to really ruminate on the idea of words of power being sung into the ethers.  One is a news event coming out of Jamaica and the other is a personal event I’m experiencing.  Back in April of this year a news story was released in the Jamaica Observer, noting that nearly one million people in Jamaica are squatters, living in over 700 squatter camps across the tiny island of 2.7 million people.  What was even more startiling was the fact that the ministers in Parliament expressed surprise about the news reported by Dr. Horace Chang to Parliament.  Jamaica is not some sprawling metropolis where the Ministers of Parliament can drive and live without ever seeing such living conditions.  How can they express surprise at a living  situation that’s been going on for years?  This expresses the basic comtempt for their fellow Jamaicans and fellow human beings.  Squatting occurs in the land where reggae music was born and grew.  Those in charge and in goverment on the island must be plagued with fear of “not enough” overwhelming, the calls of songs for unconditional love for its people.  Bob Marley sang “…the brotherly love, the sisterly love I feel this morning, this morning.”  I wonder where that feeling went.

Fear of “not enough”, not only tears nations, towns and communities apart, but destroys families.  In recent years I have experienced a family memeber dying and the result has been the destruction of what seemed to be inpenetrable love.  Yet, these deaths have opened a sleeping volcano of greed that I thought didn’t exist within he hearts of these family members.  This most recent death has exposed the fearful heart of a loved one, causing a chasm to develop within the family.  How could one that expressed so much love of family, express so much love for his god, now expose himself as such an expert liar and possible thief?  Apparently, this being, is no better than the beings he arrests and sends to prison.  No better than the liars, thieves, murderers and rapist he holds in so much contempt.  Maybe Sigmund Freud was correct when he said police officers and criminals are twigs off the same branch.

In any event we must continue to sing songs of uplift for humanity.  Sing songs of unconditional love like prayers going into the unseen for a better tomorrow, for a better day.  I am determined not to succumb to fear.  I will continue to do as one Bob Marley songs suggests “…Flee from hate, mischief and jealousy.”  Fear is manifest in many ways including anger, stealing, hate, rape, glutoney, mischief, jealousy and much more.  Fear is a mind killer. I guess some family members feel their need superseeds the needs and wants of others much like a drug addict in the need of drugs.   Their fear is expressed in their addiction, as we know a junky will lie, cheat and steal what they know is not rightfully theirs.

Clark's Madden Claim Shanty at the Beauvais Heritage Museum, home to a unidentified resident over winter.

As run in the Public Opinion, June 15 2009

Video

Lirik

Ada hati yang patah
Dan itu hatiku
Rasanya nyawa ini
Tak ada karna mu
Keinginan hatiku
Didepan mataku
Sayangnya kau belum juga merasa

Reff:
Kau fikir aku ada
Disini untuk apa
Kau kira sejauh ini
Ku datang untuk siapa
Sadar ingin kukatakan
Ini untukmu ho…o…

Kau benar terpenting didalam hidupku
Entah apa ku juga
Terpenting bagimu
Keinginan hatiku
Oh didepan mataku
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We do what we can

Coming to the Congo was not the shock for me that it was for Nick. Having lived and traveled extensively in third world countries, I have witness extreme poverty to an extent that most people will never comprehend….. not without seeing and living it for themselves. I told Nick countless stories about what to expect when he arrived in the DRC to at least prepare him on some level for the experience. But words and stories, even videos, are not enough to full appreciate true poverty until you have lived, seen, heard, smelled, felt and tasted it for your self.

When I arrived here in April, I was a bit arrogant about it. I”d seen it already, right? But time blurs the lines and memories. Maybe it’s a built in mechanism in our brains that forces us to recall the good, while filing the bad away into some dark drawer in the back of our minds. Regardless, I was more effected by the poverty here than I thought I”d be. This wasn’t an immediate shock that happened as soon as I stepped foot onto the tarmac, but more of a creaping awareness that inundates me with each passing day.

Daily we drive by makeshift dwellings made of pieces of discarded wood and metal, usually covered over with pieces of old sacks or tattered plastic bags to form some semblance of roof. These houses are usually about 10x 8feet and may be home to an entire family, including grandparents, parents, children, even the occasional cousin or aunty. Needless to say there isn’t a kitchen or bathroom hiding away in an unseen corner. Low income working families- which comprises much of the population may live in upgraded abodes. Houses built of hand made clay bricks with corigated metal roofs, with open “window”s with a tattered curtain or pieces of wood to make a door. Some even have electricity and water. Again I’m talking about small buildings- 20×30 feet is about the largest that I’ve seen, and again, these may house an large entended family. Those families that are more “well off” may have a yard, with a small garden and the occasional chicken running around. Many of nicks employees are young men, with families just starting out. Their other option is to rent an “apartment” in a building- there are a few multi-story buildings inthe city- comprised of a single room. Regardless, it puts our complaints about trying to find an apartment or house to rent in Canada into a much deeper perspective.

Papa Kasimbi’s home is on the back of our property and their home is actually quite extensive. I’m sure they considered them selves to be quite well off. There is an inner courtyard that is about 25 x 10 feet, composed entirely of coarse gravel. Off the courtyard there are 4 main rooms, each about 10×8, and a small shower/toilet room/shed. This houses papa kasimbi and mama, their 10 children, their eldest son and his wife and new baby and provides a sleeping place for papa Remy when it’s his turn on night duty. I haven’t met the entire family, so there may be more people there that I haven’t seen yet. Regardless, a crowded home indeed.

Beyond the structures that the population lives in, poverty is apparent in every aspect of their lives. The children wear uniforms to school, a white shirt with a navy skirt or pants, yet never new. It is obvious that most of their uniforms have been through several children before them, many times being held together with string or much too large waistbands cinched in with pins or just a simple string belt. Papa Kasimbi’s children run around playing in clothing that most Canadians wouldn’t even use for rags. Dresses that were once pretty party frocks in the west, have filtered down through various charities to land in the Congo- well worn, and mostly worn out: seams re-sewn together with whatever thread-like pieces they can salvage, broken zippers held together with a pin, ragged bits of forlorned lace hanging from sleeves that are barely holding on themselves. Their Tshirts and skirts and shorts are now a faded dull out grayed  hue that barely hints at it’s original colour. Shoes are mostly flip flops, or cheap plastic slipper type things….like the beanie shoes we wore back in the 80’s. Indeed the dust and sun fades almost everything. Women walking down the streets in traditional dresses, that you can tell were once brilliantly coloured, yet are so faded and careworn that the colours now barely reflect anything but the dust that has drowned them.

But what can we do about poverty? Charity agencies advertise incessently in the west- playing on our deepest emotions with pictures of crying babies and desolate places. “Save the children” ……

The UN sends food and medical supplies, UNICEF is here also. But do these help? Do they help a father find work when the mines have been shut down by UN sanctions? Does a can of baby formula help a mother that doesn’t have clean water? Does a bag of rice help the family that doesn’t have a pot to cook it in? Doctors without Borders do wonderful work out in the jungle helping villages stricken with colera, but what about the women having babies on the streets? or the children that have a broken arm, or tonsillitis, or even worse appendicitis? A rotted tooth? and abscessed gum? There are no dentists here. The Dentist I see in the CMC medical clinic is here 2 weeks a month, from Europe, and while compared to Canadian dental prices he is very inexpensive, he is still well beyond what the average family in the Congo can afford. Apparently there are some backstreet “dentists” that will pull a tooth, and you can go to a pharmacy and they will sell you antibiotics without a prescription…. but that’s about all that the average person can expect for dental and for the most part doctors care. Charitable organizations in the jungle help hundreds, but what about the millions in the cities?

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that these agencies DON’T help. But for the milllions of dollars they spend….are they spending them in ways that will help the most? And private corporations that use places like the Congo as an excuse for free advertising, Do they help? Pampers is donating one single Tetnus vaccine for every pack of diapers they sell in the US. Wonderful advertising for them. But the reality is that they are donating about $0.25 cents from every $30 pack of diapers they sell….. doesn’t sound so charitable now, does it? Or here is one of my favorite ads: Always, the manufacturers of feminine hygiene products recently ran a huge ad campaign saying that they are helping young women/girls go to school by supplying them with disposable menstrual pads. WOW! helping women and girls get an education. Sounds grand doesn’t it? Except that giving a 12 year old girl a disposable pad helps her for what?   4, maybe 6 hours? and then what is she suppose to do with it?  There is no garbage collection here.  So now there is a girl with a pile of used disposable pads that she can’t dispose of- so either she desperately tries to wash them out and use them again, or they sit in a refuse pile becoming biological waste.  It is an advertising ploy. It makes everyone say “Oh what a great company Always is! Doing such good deeds” , but the reality is that they’ve helped no one. Now if they were supplying these young girls with washable cotton pads, that would be a different story- but Always wouldn’t ever do that, because manufacturing a single use item makes money, making a product that can be used again doesn’t.

We do what we can.

That’s all we can do.  Some people can afford to donate money to charities, but many can’t. We certainly couldnt’ when we were in Canada living below the Canadian poverty line.  And some choose not to, because they see the futility of donating $20 when the reality is that only about $1 of that reaches the people they are trying to help. Not with all humanitarian agencies…. but a lot of them.

Nick and I live in this world. We can’t turn the channel when the “begging” ads come on.

So we do what we can.

When Nick decided to hire Pascal to help me out around the house and with the kids it was an easy decision. The cost for us? $100 a month. But when Nick called pascal over and gave him $100 US and told him that he was to “help mama dani”. The look on his and his fathers face was one of shocked amazement- as if they had won the lottery. ( Nick and I have already decided that he’s getting a raise this coming month). That $100 represents probably 1/4 of their families earnings monthly. While we don’t pay the Papa’s ourselves (their wages are covered by the company along with the expenses of the house itself), Nick has always made sure to give them extra money when ever they help out in ways that aren’t really their jobs: buying Mazute (diesel for the generator), running to the store for bread or milk etc,. and I have continued this with Pascal, who run errands for me all the time. Nick also made sure that every night when he made dinner, he made enough for which ever of the Papa’s was on duty to have supper too, and again I have continuted with this during the day at lunch time, making sure there is enough to feed whom ever is at the house at lunch. Extra food is sent with the kids for their Mama- be it dinner left overs, extra produce that we are sent by the company from the market, or even treats that I’ve baked for the kids. Every week mama Martine gets a bag of produce to take home to her family too.

Within a week of being here, the condition of the childrens clothes made me yet again realize how much we have. I went through the childrens clothing and pulled out enough tshirts, shorts, pants and dresses to fill several bags, as well as a few pairs of shoes, and weekly as I do the laundry, when I come across things that are getting small, or that I realize we really don’t need…. off it’s sent with the kids “Pour Tu Mama”…. in my oh so broken french. At least once a week I think “Oh I wish I’d brought this or that, it would of fit so in so…” This week has been cold at night, and Nick came in to the bedroom, rummaging around in his closet. At my questioning look he responded “Papa Remy is outside in a shirt and a thread bare vest huddling over the charcoal braiser…. I”m getting him a sweater” And nick got out his second last sweater and took to to papa Remy.

We do what we can.

Enter the newest member of our extended family, Papa Robert.

Papa Robert worked at the hotel where nick stayed for 6 months. He worked from 6pm till 7am every day 7 days a week 52 weeks a year. He swept and mopped the floors, washed the windows and just about every flat surface he could reach. Nick said that he always had a smile on his face and never stopped working the entire shift. Papa Robert has 11 children- ages 18 to 2. He made $140US a month. When we were getting ready to move here, Nick said that he wanted to hired Papa Robert to come and help me around the house. But when we arrived we realized that the position was filled (by Mama Martine), and I didn’t think about it again.   Then last week, as Nick pulled up outside our gates, there was Papa Robert.   He had met Jeuve, a really great young man that also worked at the hotel that Nick hired to work for him and now has him set up as an apprentice electrician, and Jeuve told him where we lived.  Nick invited Papa in and he told us that he’d lost his job at the hotel (new management).  Nick looks at me, and I can see the pain in his eyes.   Into the house we go for the huddled conference.  $150 a month…… again, not a great deal to us, but everything to this quiet little man. So Nick went out and told Papa Robert that he would come work for us at the house starting the next day, gave him 1000 Congolese francs (about $1.25 US) for “transport” to make sure he had enough money to get home and to get back in the morning. The gratitude on his worn face was all we needed to know that we had done the right thing. As nick said when he left “my consciouns feels much lighter now”.   After three days of having Papa Robert in our home, I too have a clearer consciouns. The cost of $150 a month plus lunches and snacks and the bag of produce that I’ll send home with him too…… is worth every penny.

We do what we can.

It’s all that we can do.

But poverty isn’t just a condition in Africa.  It’s in Canada, America, England….. It is right in front of all of us.

So ask yourselves: ……. What can you do?

We do what we can

Link : Download SHANTY Feat. DONNE – Untuk Siapa

Azharuddin Ismail was one of the little kids that starred in “Slumdog Millionaire”, and the last time he on here was 5 days after the Academy Awards when his dad back in India smacked him around in front of photographers then made him go beg outside their house. And by “house” I mean, “rickety box of jagged sheet metal and plywood precariously propped up against each other”. Basically a chicken coup, but less fancy and with more exposed rusty nails than food.

That was tragically sad, so I’m just gonna pretend like I didn’t read it and then it will go away. Hey look Megan Fox in Elle magazine. Ohh, interesting, that article about looking expensive without spending a fortune sure is timely. I’ve found a good way to cut costs without sacrificing style is by focusing on lesser accessories, like belts and socks.

Link : Download SHANTY Feat. DONNE – Untuk Siapa

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Myspace Layout for clothing line ‘Shanty Town Hoodlums’

An abstract glows and street style was requested for this one.