A Greater Perspective

http://s3.amazonaws.com/convo-production/images/34499/huge.jpg?1328930971

As I was flipping through the images to choose from for this week's blog post assignment, I immediately paused at the sight of this picture. I instantly felt an emotional connection to the people in this image. I love to go hiking. This past summer I went on a ten day backpacking trip throughout the mountains of New Mexico. My favorite part about climbing mountains is that sensation you get when you're higher up looking down on where you've come from. The best is when you reach the very top of a mountain. The biggest accomplishment my crew made was reaching the top of the Tooth. From the tip of the tooth we could see our entire journey so far (about 9 days). I think what I love most about this experience is that I feel a sense of divinity. I feel like I can see things with a greater perspective similar to the way God would see them.




The first sentence of the description paragraph reads, "Habits are hard to change". For these people it had been a habit of theirs to sit on the window ledges of their rural homes. I'd like to think that the got a similar satisfaction out of this as I do from mountains. It is likely that they sat there to ponder or maybe even to pray. Because "habits are hard to change" they continued to sit on the ledges of their windows when they moved to apartments in the city. The height didn't scare them. While some of the people in this photograph sit alone pondering and viewing their world in a different way, others sit with friends and family likely keeping up a conversation. Just as I bonded with the girls in my crew as we climbed to the tops of mountains together, I believe that the simple act of sitting together on their window ledge served to strengthen friendships.

I feel that the people in this photograph have realized something that many Americans have a difficulty understanding. Our lives are spent moving from one thing to the next. When we do have down time it is often spent on facebook, pinterest, or checking email. Rarely do we sit, breathe, and think. Rarely do we have time to acknowledge the beauty of this Earth and let the spirit whisper peace to our hearts. Rarely do we have time to just sit and talk or even to not talk at all and just enjoy each others' company. I know that I could improve my life by incorporating these moments of peace into my busy schedule one way or the other and I hope that you will too.

Salgado, Sebastiao.  Photograph.  “Migrations: Humanity in Transition”.  Aperture.  New York, 2000.  430-31

For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink

When I first looked at this picture, I, like the people passing by on the street, glanced over the beggar on the street. It wasn't until I read the background information that I realized that this was exactly what was happening. The beggar on the street was a common occurrence for the people in Shanghai and didn't merit any acknowledgement. This picture particularly struck me because I feel like this is how I respond to the people on the side of the road holding up a sign that reads, "Anything helps. God Bless". I have never stopped to give them money; although, each time I pass them, I feel a twinge of regret. I wonder if these people choose to continue on their merry way for the same reasons I do: I rarely carry cash; It's too much of a hassle to stop; Part of me wonders if they are actually destitute or if they just want to take advantage of the compassionate people in the world.

A friend of mine recently presented an interesting viewpoint of this situation that has cause me to think more about this. She explained that it didn't really hurt her to give up a few dollars and if the person really was in desperate need, then she would be able to help with little sacrifice to her own well-being. On the other hand, if the stranger was cheating her out of her money, then again, she would lose very little while the other would lose a lot.

What I've learned from this is that we cannot judge others actions to be righteous or unrighteous without erring in some way ourselves. We can; however, choose to act in such a way that our thoughts and desires may be judged righteous by our Heavenly Father. I would rather risk being taken advantage of than risk being held accountable for a soul that I could have helped. After all, in this season of thanksgiving, we are reminded that all that we have comes from our Father and that our debt could not possibly be repaid. Each act of selfless service; however, shows gratitude to our Heavenly Father. When we serve His people we are, in a sense, serving Him. In Matthew 25:40 it reads, "In as much as you have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."

Building Refugee Camps that will build up Refugees

In my writing class we are beginning the process of writing a research paper. As our theme this semester has been on refugees, I chose to focus on just how the United States can reach out and help refugees in other countries come to America and get back to living their life and being contributors to society. For several reasons, refugees have been forced to wait agonizing years just to come to America. Others once they've gotten here have been given a short time to learn how to survive in a new country and then are left with no further assistance. I believe that if we can find a way to help refugees escape the traumas they are experiencing and give them a home in a refugee camp where they can learn the skills necessary to survive on their own and adapt to a new environment, then they will be able to get back on their feet sooner and be able to stand taller. Once they are strong, they will be unique individuals in our society that contribute back to the society that once gave to them. I believe that there are times in everyone's life when we need a little assistance from someone else, but once we are given a little we are able to give back a lot more.

Left to Tell Review

     
          "Left to Tell" written by Immaculee Ilibagiza tells a story of genocide and forgiveness. To the millions who suffered similar tragedies, Immaculee's story teaches them how to forgive their persecutors and live a normal, happy life. Her story reaches other hearts, as well, who haven't experienced a genocide but needed help forgiving a family member or friend. In Addition, her story is one of faith, of giving your heart to God, of prayer, of healing, of purpose, of dependence, of humility, and of God's love for his children.
           Immaculee is so unique because she made the choice to not lose her faith. She fought her doubt, fear, hatred, and disgust from the beginning and learned how to combat these feelings with God's love. Immaculee's story teaches us all how to remain faithful through any trial and promises that we are all capable of conquering the mountains in front of us with God's help. The story of the genocide of Rwanda shows how strong Satan's influence can be: strong enough to lead men and women to kill innocent people, including young children and babies without hesitation. Immaculee's story shows us that God is more powerful.
          Immaculee fights every fearful and hateful thought with prayer. Several of her days spent hiding from her killers in the bathroom of Pastor Murinzi's home were filled with prayer. She prayed for these thoughts to leave her; she prayed for the strength to forgive her killers; she prayed for those that were fighting to end the war and save the surviving Tutsis; she prayed for family; she prayed for her enemies. Immaculee tells us that God will help us to forgive our enemies if we ask Him. After she is rescued, Immaculee continues to use this power of prayer for good. Her faith is so strong that she believes that God will and must answer her prayers in his own way.
          It is often hard to understand why a girl like Immaculee would be saved by God while others are allowed to die. This is not because God doesn't love those that died. Immaculee learns that God is allowing her to live in order to fulfill a purpose. She is left to tell her story. Although God does not save Immaculee's family, He does comfort her and helps her to know that they are happy and that they want her to stop crying for their death.
          Immaculee is an inspiration to me. It amazes me how she held onto her faith throughout those months living in the bathroom. It amazes me how she turned such a horrible trial into a blessing for her and for all who hear her story. It amazes me how strong her faith in God became. I don't want to spoil anything for those who haven't read it yet, but my favorite quote is "Mountains are moved with faith, Immaculee, but if faith were easy all of the mountains would be gone". I love this quote because it gives me the courage to keep trying. I hope that I can learn to rely on the Lord as Immaculee does. I am grateful for her example to me and for the opportunity to read her story. I recommend this book to everyone. Each page will touch your heart and change your life for the better.

The picture that struck me this week was one of a crowd of refugees surrounding a man lying on the ground dying from cholera. They were stationed at the Kibumba refugee camp where disease and starvation were taking a toll on the refugees that didn't die from the genocide. The crowd of people just stands around the dying man, who several of them may know, traumatized by the horror scenes surrounding them. I think that several questions were on their mind: "Why does God allow this to happen?" "How much longer will I make it?" or "Will my family ever live peacefully together again?"

I can't imagine watching people die around me with no way of helping them. I have had several close friends experience the death of their parents and understand somewhat how hard that burden is to bear. In our society, these deaths are usually caused by traumatic accidents or illness. Except in the case of accidents, the family often has time to prepare for the death and there is at least some fighting involved. They are able to see several doctors and have some opportunity to try to save their loved one. In the case of these refugees; however, there was nothing they could do to stop the genocide or to save the victim of disease or to stop their family from starving. All they could do is pray.

As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, a christian, I firmly believe that there is a purpose for everything. I believe that in God's plan it is necessary that we have agency. I believe that if God were to take away the agency of these killers, He would cease to be God. I do believe; however, that God is there for each of us if we pray to Him and wait for His answer. I see His hand in my life every day. Miracles happen today just as much as they did in Bible times. I believe that we can live with our family again if we obey God's commandments. He loves all of His children and wants us to be happy. Like any parent, He is sad when we are sad and when we sin.God is just. God is mercy. God is love.

Wasteland

                                                     http://www.wastelandmovie.com/gallery.html

My writing class recently watched "Wasteland", a movie that tells the experience of the artist, Vik Muniz, who spends nearly three years in Rio de Janiero, Brazil at the world's biggest garbage dump, Jardim Gramacho. Vik's ambition was to help the people living the life of a garbage picker in a desolate place. His plan was to make pictures of the people out of their garbage and then sell them to raise money for the dump. What he found changed his opinion of these people entirely.

These people were not only happy, but they were proud to be a "catadores". They remind everyone that they do not pick up trash; they pick up recyclable materials so that they can be used again and to limit the build up of trash in the landfill. It amazed me how strong these people were considering their lifestyle. The movie was another reminder to me of how much I have been given. Mr. Muniz went into this situation thinking that he would be the one to help these unfortunate people. What he discovered is that they are doing okay without his help and that they had a lot more to teach him than he could teach them.

This video taught me that it is not our situations in life that determine what kind of person we will be. Rather, we choose who we will be regardless of our lifestyle. It reminds me of the hymn, "Because I have been given much". I believe that we can all help the world one person at a time no matter where we come from, what we look like, or how much money we have in our pocket. I am grateful for the life I have been given, but I don't think that has to define the kind of person we are. As I've gone to Hser Ner Moo to volunteer or play with the kids, I've realized that it's not all about the service or about feeling good about oneself by helping others. It is more important that we expand our boundaries and understand people that are different. It is through this process that we realize who we all are, children of our Heavenly Father.

visit the address below to find out more about this powerful movie:
http://www.wastelandmovie.com/synopsis.html

A Second Birth

 http://arts.byu.edu/calendar/eventdescription_v2.php?eventid=31

My class was recently assigned to go watch A Second Birth, a play put on by Brigham Young University's theater students. The play told the story of a young Afghanistan girl and her family. The family only had girls and so money was tight without a son to go to work and gain an income for the family. In their culture it was not uncommon for families like this to dress one of their daughters as a boy and treat her like a boy so that she could work for the family. These girls were called bakka push and were in danger of being discovered as a girl as this would mean immediate death with no mercy. The girl in this story became a bakkah push at a very young age. Unfortunately once puberty hit it became dangerous to continue living the life of a boy without being caught. Because the girl had lived most of her life as a boy, the transition back to being a girl proved to be very difficult. She could no longer study math and science, she couldn't leave her house without an escort, she had to stay home and learn how to sew, cook, clean, and take care of things around the house. Nasima didn't adjust well. She missed her old life and didn't feel that it was fair for women to have to live the way they do. Her mother and sisters tried to teach her that it was not a punishment but a gift given to women by Allah, it was the life that they were given. To make matters worse, her parents arranged a marriage for her. When she found out that the boy she was marrying was her long time friend things got complicated. He knew her as a boy named Nasim. At first he refused the marriage, the worst thing you could do to a family. Nasima decided it was best for her to run away. When her father went to the boy in desperate need of help in finding his daughter, he agreed to find her, but not to marry her. In the end when he found her and they talked about the situation he decided that he could love her. The story ended happily with their marriage. This story touched me because I couldn't imagine having limitations because of who I was. I feel fortunate to live in a society that allows me to go to college, to get a degree in whatever I choose to study, and to work in whatever profession I choose. I can do all those things and I can still be a mother and teach my girls to sew and take care of a home. I am grateful for the people that aided in granting equal rights to women. I grew attached to this family as I watched their story unfold. I forgot that these were college students acting a part. It all seemed so real and I could feel the emotions they were feeling. I knew that they cared about each other and that was the most important thing. Although I am grateful for the opportunities that I have, I learned from this play that no matter what path we are given in life the most important thing is that we make the most of it.

Strength and Happiness No Matter What

 

When I first heard about the service opportunities that my class would be participating in, I honestly felt a little overwhelmed. My professor explained that we would be going to a refugee center a couple times throughout the semester to help the kids with homework and after school activities. I couldn't imagine what I would say to them or how I could help them in any way having come from a much easier home in my opinion. Then we were told about a chance to go play soccer and other games with the kids from Hser Ner Moo. I thought that maybe that I could do. I love kids and bringing joy to them through simple means such as jumping rope. When we first got there the kids seemed a little shy, but I decided to go up and introduce myself. In a matter of minutes they wanted me and the other girls to play with them. I immediately forgot that they were refugees. I didn't worry about what I would say to them; I just played. This is one thing I love about kids. No matter what is going on around them or what trials their family is facing, kids are always able to stop worrying, let it go, and just play. When we played duck, duck goose one of the girls wanted to sit in my lap. This was such a touching experience for me. I had known her for only an hour, she didn't know my name or anything about me, but she already trusted me and thought of me as a friend.

These kids had so little in comparison to the things that I had at their age, but they smile and laugh just the same. A lot of their clothes didn't quite fit them and were obviously hand me downs or from the good will. This experience taught me a lot about appreciating the things that I have. While I always thought the 2 day drive to visit my cousins was a bother, I couldn't imagine moving to another country and leaving all of them behind. I can't imagine not seeing the most important people to me for so many years. These are just a few differences between these girls and myself.

Later that week, I had the opportunity to go back and help the kids with homework during "Teen Hour". When a boy of about 16 years came up to me and asked me to help me with his math homework, I was worried that I wouldn't be any help to him. We sat down and started to look at his work and although I haven't taken math for 2 years it all started to come back to me. Still, it was somewhat difficult to teach him how to do the work without doing it for him. Whenever he was able to do it on his own I would get so excited. I became very conscience of the words I was using. The concept of absolute value bars was difficult to explain without confusing even myself, but these are smart kids. They may be a little behind because of having to learn a new language and start school in America, but they have come so far I'm sure from the day they arrived. I look up to these kids for the composure and strength that they maintain in the face of challenges. I am so grateful for this opportunity and the times to come that I will be able to visit and work with these kids. They are such an example to me of courage.

Here is a website you can go to in order to find out more about Hser Ner Moo. http://hsernermoo.blogspot.com/

If you can find a refugee center in your area, I promise that it would be a worthwhile experience to get involved there and to do your part to help these wonderful people. The Alliance for Multicultural Community Services is a good place to get involved if you are from Houston, Texas as am I.
http://arts.byu.edu/calendar/eventdescription_v2.php?eventid=31

Going Nowhere

 

http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/sebastiao-salgado?before=1331886064

The sweet face of the little boy in this picture caught my attention the second I turned the page. Taken in any other scenario this boy would seem like any other boy, but the background of the picture alludes to the boys true identity as a refugee at the Ivankovo camp in Croatia. The abandoned train behind him is his current home and possibly the only home he can remember.

The German humanitarian  organization Cap-Anamur set these railroad cars aside for the living of refugee families who had already fled from their homes. Of the 120 refugees, most of them were Bosnian Muslims, but Serbs and Croats were also included among them. These refugees were often forgotten in the chaos that existed back home. They chose to flee before the atrocities hit their home town and; therefore, were safe from the horrors of rape, torture, or ethnic cleansing. However, their current safety, in many cases, caused them to lose their right to migrate. Instead they sat in trains that went nowhere watching as other trains passed carrying passengers far more fortunate than them.

This story reminds me of my own experiences in evacuating from my home for both hurricane Katrina and Rita. My parents were among those that decided it would be safer for us to evacuate as we could not predict how the storm would affect our little spot in Houston, Texas. Many people stayed behind to weather the storm. Although I had a home to return to, this experience has helped me to understand on a small degree the uncertainty these refugees must have felt when they left their homes behind. It is harder for me to imagine the pain they now feel as they sit and wait for a way out. They do not know if they will be granted the opportunity to migrate and re-create their home in a foreign country or if they will be left there until they die.

Eighteen years after the picture was taken, I wonder where these refugees are now. Are they still waiting, going nowhere? What has become of this little boy?


Salgado, Sebastião. "Migrations: Humanity in Transition". New York: Aperture, 2000. Print.

Afghan Women: Stripped of Basic Human Rights

http://www.internationalist.org/afghanwomen1001.html

It's that time of the week again. I performed my usual ritual (going on 2 weeks) of stopping by the Harold B. Lee Library to flip through the pages of Sebastiao Salgado's Migrations wondering what else I could possibly learn about refugees. When I came to this picture, I froze in shock. "What?...But...Why?" I just couldn't understand. I had heard of woman being mistreated in other countries, but this just didn't make sense to me. Why should a woman have to cover her face and the rest of her body with such an uncomfortable and unattractive piece of fabric? What purpose does that serve for anybody? Although another photo of children hanging to the fence of a detention camp also struck at my heart, I just couldn't let go of the mystery of the lives of these women.

From my early research, I discovered that this picture was placed sometime after the Taliban seized Kabul. I learned that the piece of fabric, a state-mandated uniform, was called a chadri, that girls as young sometimes as young as 8 or 9 were forced to wear it, and that women wore the chadri, or burqa, out of fear of being whipped or stoned. I had to learn more. Kabul, the capital of Afghanistan was seized by the Taliban, an extremist militia, on September 27, 1996. A totalitarian dictatorship and gender apartheid changed the lives of these people, especially the women. The strict rules placed against women included:

• banishment from the work force
• closing of all schools to girls and women
• prohibited to leave their home unless accompanied by a close male relative
• publicly visible windows must be painted black
• women forced to wear the chadri which covers the entire body leaving only a small mesh-covered opening in order to see
• women and girls could not see a male physician and females could not work in this occupation or any other 

Punishment for violating any of these restrictions included brutal beatings, public flogging, and even death. I can't imagine the pain of a mother holding her sick child in her arms facing her only two choices: losing her child to the illness or losing her own life trying to save her child. The love of a mother drove many women from their homes seeking mercy, but finding only indifferent cruelty.

But why? The Taliban claimed it was aiming to ensure a safe and dignified role for women in society. They claimed to follow a pure, fundamentalist Islamic ideology. But their ideals held no foundation in the Islamic religion and did they really believe that being threatened and forced into hiding would give women feelings of safety or dignity? My heart aches as I read about the tragedies of these women and I know that I am so blessed to live in America. I am grateful for the soldiers that fight every day to stop this cruelty towards women. Doesn't every girl deserve to know that she is beautiful, that she is intelligent and capable, and that she can make her own choices based on the pursuit of happiness?

Works Cited:

Salgado, Sebastião. "Migrations: Humanity in Transition". New York: Aperture, 2000. Print.

http://books.google.com/books/about/My_Forbidden_Face.html?id=gZIoAQAACAAJ

http://feminist.org/afghan/taliban_women.asp

http://www.state.gov/j/drl/rls/6185.htm

From Russia to America

         I often find myself stunned at the realization that I have so much and take so much for granted. A particular question, "What if you woke up tomorrow with what you thanked God for yesterday?" has always made me question my faith: what if I didn't have my family? What if I woke up without freedom? What if I didn't know of the glory and majesty of Christ? What if I had nothing but the clothes on my back? What if I had to move to a foreign land? Would I be able to handle this? Would I stay strong? For refugees, much of this is a stark reality.
         The photo I choose to talk about today is one of a Russian Jewish family hugging goodbye for what may be the last time. It is not easy to get out of Russia as a migrant, one must prove that they feel obliged to leave and cannot remain where they currently live. They must be refugees by definition: someone who has fled (or is hoping to flee) to another country because of a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, or membership of a particular social group or political opinion. When a Jew was not granted approval from the Soviet Union to migrate to the United States or Israel, they were termed refuseniks and ultimately fired from their job. It often took several years for them to gain permission to leave and so it was necessary for them to take whatever jobs were available so that they could feed their family and not risk being arrested as "parasites" (a Soviet classification for any able-bodied person unemployed for two months). Benjamin Bogomolny actually made the Guinness Book of World Records as "most patient" refusenik having waited twenty and a half years to make the journey. Thanks to the Lautenberg Amendment passed by the U.S. Congress in 1989 all Soviet Jews and certain other religious communities were classified as persecuted groups, automatically qualifying them for refugee status and passage to freedom. A wave of immigrants began to flood the American shores and continued until the early 2000s some years bringing as many as 25,000 new émigrés to New York. Now, the number of Russian-speaking Jews living in the United States is estimated to be about 700,000.
          A Russian Jewish refugee named Katherine tells her story of immigrating to the U.S. with her husband, also a Russian Jew. She expresses her joy at hearing her son speak out "I am Jewish!" When she starts to cry, her daughter asks her why she is crying and the loving mother responds, "Because this is the reason that Papa and I moved to America, so you can announce proudly and freely—I am Jewish!"
         This photo stuck out to me because I cannot imagine the anguish one must feel leaving their family members behind in a country that is unsafe and prejudice against them. Likewise, I cannot imagine seeing someone of my family leave me to escape to another country where we don't know what to expect. Especially in a time when communication was a lot slower, this to me would be unbearable. As a first semester freshman in college, it is hard enough to not see my family for months even though they're only a simple phone call, text, email, or facebook chat away. It's hard enough to start out on your own in a new state and new school. I cannot fathom the fear I would feel at having to survive alone in a foreign country where I didn't know the language, the culture, or the every day customs necessary to get by. This is my aim for this semester: to learn to better understand people and their individual struggles, to help my readers understand the people that I write about, and to do my best to provide any relief that I can to those that struggle in whatever way.

Works Cited

http://www.chabad.org/theJewishWoman/article_cdo/aid/927393/jewish/Freedom-to-be-a-Jew.htm

http://www.ajcrussian.org/site/apps/nlnet/content2.aspx?c=chLMK3PKLsF&b=7718799&ct=11713359

http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/History/Human_Rights/refuseniks.html