exodus

I resigned from my position in Haiti, and returned to DC. I plan on spending the next week literally on the couch, recovering from what has happened to me, then I will make plans for what I will do, - about that, I am not particularly worried. Maybe I will work for Obama, if he will take me.

I absolutely can not publicly write about the events that led me to leave abruptly in the middle of the night, but know that I am ok. The essence of the story is that I will not negotiate with terrorists who live in a tribal mentality of fear, violence, and so on. But the story is much more complex than that. I will tell you - my friends, individually, about what has gone on, but I can not be eloquent when I am still so shaken up.

Now more than ever, I have a solidarity with the Haitian people, who live with violence breathing down their necks, appearing in their bedrooms, positioning itself through the government. And this last experience, has changed my life.

One of the last things I saw, before I left, was a tiny girl, just learning to walk, a patient- dancing for the waiting patients with an elderly man who was unable to really walk. Both he and the little girl were laughing. I will never forget that moment.

Please watch this video of Maria Shriver. I certainly know who my brothers are, and I might need them the most, now.

the national anthem

In Bangladesh, whenever the group was asked to share a song, we would sing "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey, and because of this, many Bangladeshis believed it to be the USA's national anthem. I hope you will enjoy my first ever movie/slideshow. There is also a little of our favorite Bon Jovi song at the end.




The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who stand in the line and haul in their places,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.

~ Marge Piercy ~

my trip to bangladesh with project pyramid

hillary and obama

it's hard to let go, isn't it?

everybody wants to be found

but then what?