Nepalese Pan and Nepali Friends

I love Nepalis. Nepalese Pan, though, is the foulest-tasting thing I have had in while!
Some of you know that my friends and I here in Minneapolis are sponsoring two refugee families from Buthan. Ten people, ranging from ages 1 to 70-something, were forced to flee 17 years ago from Buthan into Nepal, where they lived in a refugee camp. Finally, they had the opportunity to come into the United States in spring of 2009.
We welcomed them at the airport and have helped them get settled in.
A scarce few weeks have gone by, and they now have apartments with furniture (we have generous friends!). They have learned how to use their EBT cards and to grocery shop. They are actively learning English 4 times a week and every time we visit them, they know a few more words and phrases.
My friend Molly and I took the men to the grocery store, and on the ride back to their house, they thanked us with "pan," a Nepalese delicacy, composed of excessively strong spices, including fennel, which I particularly dislike. All these spices are slathered in a pickled honey and wrapped in a big leaf. Apparently, you are supposed to shove the whole thing in your mouth and chew on it for the next thirty minutes! Molly and I tentatively tasted a small bite and miserably drove for 10 minutes with the spices burning our tongues and gums, while our Nepali friends loudly chomped on their chew and laughed uncontrollably and hysterically at our reaction.
If you'd like to try it, Molly and I still have the majority of ours, available to share!

Are we listening to our leaders? (48days.com)

“Today we are faced with the pre-eminent fact that if civilization is to survive, we must cultivate the science of human relationships, the ability of peoples of all kinds to live together and to work together in the same world at peace.” Franklin D. Roosevelt, 1882 – 1945, President of the United States

“We cannot learn from one another until we stop shouting at one another – until we speak quietly enough so that our words can be heard as well as our voices.” Richard M. Nixon, 1913 – 1994, President of the United States

“The world will never have lasting peace so long as men reserve for war the finest human qualities. Peace, no less than war, requires idealism and self-sacrifice and a righteous and dynamic faith.” John Foster Dulles, 1888 – 1959, American Secretary of State

“Peace is a daily, a weekly, a monthly process, gradually changing opinions, slowly eroding old barriers, quietly building new structures. And however undramatic the pursuit of peace, the pursuit must go on.” John F. Kennedy, 1917 – 1963, President of the United States

“The peace we seek, founded upon decent trust and co-operative effort among nations, can be fortified not by weapons of war but by wheat and by cotton, by milk and by wool, by meat and by timber and by rice. These are words that translate into every language.” Dwight D. Eisenhower, 1890 – 1969, President of the United States

My Mama in Congo, a post by Harper McConnell

I wish I had a picture of Harper and Mama Noella to do her honor for this fabulous story that captures so much of what it feels like to be with and learn from women of strength like Noella.

This woman is fearless and enters all areas of eastern DR Congo, creating change and issuing help and hope to those who are in unreachable places.

Read Harper's story, you'll enjoy it!

http://blog.sojo.net/2009/06/01/my-mama-in-congo/

I forgot what it feels like

To have soft toilet paper available every time I use the restroom,
To have clean hands all day long and not have the threat of ringworm,

To sit in a coffeeshop full of people typing on their laptops with one hand and their cell phones with the other,

To run around beautiful lakes with no one staring at me,

To be living in spring while wearing winter jackets in Minnesota,

To receive customer service... they actually WANT to help me have a good experience?

To pay $3.95 for a coffee drink, knowing how Mama Grace could use it for her 5 children,

To only see pictures of my friends in the Congo, and not see them face to face,

To only hear about the war and security situation and worry about those that are still there,

What homes look like with design and decor, instead of of old posters ranging from designer kitchen advertisements to calendars of Osama Bin Laden,

To not be sick all the time from fried food, fried with re-used oil,

To use my Spanish again, hoping I'll not get rusty on French and Swahili,

To have that ambiguous "unemployed" label along with a million others around me,

To not have a beautiful flower garden that scents every evening with a romantic aura,

To cook Mexican food in a matter of minutes, instead of a 2 hour project to make tortillas from scratch,

To have options... grocery stores with hundreds of items... You mean, instead of paying $9/bottle of shampoo, I get to choose between 8 that are $3.45, plus you throw in an extra bottle for free?

To go to the Guthrie Theater in Minneapolis and watch "The Two Gentlement of Verona," and to listen to live music at Dixie's on Grand Ave in Saint Paul...

Shall I go on? However, it feels good; it feels right to be back in Minneapolis at this time. And the melting snow outside my window... it's just setting the scene for us to enjoy the springing of life here in the Twin Cities.

Ban Ki-moon

A couple weeks ago, I met one of the most international influential people of today. He also has a name which many people may not recognize.

In this picture, you can see Mr. Ban Ki-moon and his wife, as well as Mr. Doss, special UN representative for DR Congo, and his wife. They are in front of HEAL Africa, who had the honor of receiving these honored guests. Dr. Likofata, HEAL Africa's Public Health Director, and Virginie Mumbere, Public Relations Director, received him along with other incredible HEAL Africa staff members.

Surprisingly, I had a special little moment with the UN Secretary General in the bright-orange HEALing Arts room when we welcomed him and his delegation to see the work HEAL Africa is doing to further help victims of sexual violence in the development of life skills. In this blurry picture, I got to translate for Mr. and Mrs. Ki-moon.

They listened to a short explanation of the program, admired what the women are accomplishing, and then like the rest of us, got lost in the beauty and charm of Congolese babies, namely lovely Baby Plamedi, who sported the HEALing Arts uniform of the day!

Mr. Ki-moom finished his visit with a public statement against sexual violence and an appeal to put it to end. This statement is available via email, just contact HEAL Africa.

Femme Noire, Femme Africaine (Black Woman, African Woman)

Yesterday I saw Francine, our beginner seamstress teacher, in the HEALing Arts room and complimented her beautiful new black hair and black outfit. She responded, “Femme Noire, Femme Africaine. Ni miye!” She wanted me to take this picture of her so people would see who she is: “Black Woman, African Woman. That is me!” and that she is proud of it!

The women in the room were giggling and chanting with her “Femme Noire, Femme Africaine!

Later Francine explained to me the source of this saying.

"Black Woman, African woman. Camaralaye was an African who went to Europe to do long studies. He wrote this letter to his mother, which I learned in elementary school in 1986:

« Femme Noire, Femme Africaine, Ô toi ma mère, je pense à toi. Ô dama, ô ma mère! Toi qui m’allaita. Toi qui me porta sur le dos, toi qui la première, m’ouvrit les yeux, ô prodige de la terre, je pense à toi. Femme de champs, femme de la rivière, femme de grande fleuve, je pense à toi. Femme de la résignation, je pense à toi. Ô toi ma mère, merci, merci pour tout ce que tu fû pour moi, ton fils si loin, si prêt de toi. D’après, Camaralaye, enfant noir. »

“Black Woman, African Woman, Oh you my mother, I think of you. Oh my dear, my dear mother! You who breast-fed me. You who carried me on your back, you the first, who opened my eyes, oh prodigy of the earth, I think of you. Woman of the field, woman of the stream, woman of the great river, I think of you. Woman of resignation, I think of you. Oh you, my mother, thank you, thank you for all that you did for me, your son so far, so near to you.From there,Camaralaye, black son.”

Kalemie, Calamity and Hope

I visited Kalemie for a short time with some friends from Airserve last weekend, and saw how incredibly beautiful and unspoiled this most-rich region of the Congo is. White sand beaches on Lake Tanganyika, with tall grasses whispering in the soft winds, sand bars shining deep in the blue waters, the sun bright like in the Caribbean. This picture is of Chelsie (my co-worker here), Dave (captain pilot), Erinn (friend from Minneapolis) and Tomie (engineer), enjoying the soft sand under bright clouds in the sky.
No one would guess the level of poverty and suffering here for women due to the war.
At HEAL Africa, we received several women with fistula. Like my new friend Janet, who told me shyly, “I am happy every time I see you!” It took me a while to figure her out. She sits off on her own, squatting due to her painful fistula, her big teeth always sticking out. Small eyes squinting not without expression; her guards up high. Today, I sat down next to her because I wondered if something was wrong. To my surprise, she happily told me her whole story. She is one of very few lucky women. She has a husband and a 5 year old son and is pregnant again. She was also raped, like so many others I meet here, by 5 Mai Mai soldiers in October, shortly after she had conceived another child from her husband. The violent rapes left her with a severe case of fistula.
Why do I say is she lucky? Well, for one, her husband has not abandoned her and is being supportive by taking care of their 5 year old while she is receiving medical treatment. Second, she is only 4 months pregnant, and is now in a safe place with good medical care to help her through the pregnancy and delivery. Our doctors will make sure that she does not get a worse case of fistula, and once she has delivered, she will receive a quality surgery that should help her recover quickly, since HEAL Africa is the first to treat her. Third, she is not subject to continuing heavy labor with her condition and pregnancy. Instead, she has the safety of the transit center. Fourth, she is receiving special counseling both psychosocially and spiritually to work on healing and forgiving the men who wronged her. Counseling also helps Janet see that as a woman, she can have a voice as well, and fight for the war to stop, for the violence against women to end. Fifth, she has never learned to read and write. She has no employable skills. After she learned about HEALing Arts’ programs, she stood up with me to enter the room and meet Francine, who teaches beginner seamstresses. As we walked out holding hands, she excitedly told me, “I will come in first and start learning how to sew. After that, I will start going to the classes that will teach me to write letters home!” She put her hand to her slowly growing belly, looked at it, then looked up and smiled at me. Slowly, she walked over to sit with some of the other women.
Yes, amid the horrors of her rape and fistula, Janet is lucky.