This beautiful Saturday morning is truly the first time I’ve paused to relax for an entire week! So many awesome things happened this week. I’ll admit, I’m even feeling rather lazy with this journal entry as I feel more inclined to curl up in the sun and take a nap. Hopefully, I can at least finish what I’ve started, haha.
In any case, work is work. I finished the newsletter, which Jim can’t stop raving about, and it’ll be sent out Monday to Americans living in Zimbabwe. I’ve been procrastinating on the fraud cases still. Granted, I have started two of the cases, but it’s really tough for me to be motivated. To be honest, I look forward to work mainly because of the people there. I love the people in the office. Jim, Hector, Lizzie, and Trudee are so kind and helpful. I’ve become very comfortable around all of them, and have even started to act a little silly sometimes…you know by cracking jokes, teasing, or literally waltzing around the office with the barcode scanner. Trudee has learned to roll her eyes at me already, and the others reward my antics with laughs. It makes me feel good to integrate so smoothly into the group. I feel very welcome indeed.
I’ve been shadowing Thu, the Political Officer in the Poli/Econ department upstairs, a lot during her working hours. She’s been taking me to all sorts of human rights meetings and various political events. Perhaps the most poignant for me was attending a 2+hour forum regarding U.S. sanctions in Zimbabwe. Thu’s boss was one of the panelists, and strictly argued American policy, to a room bristling with emotion. It was slightly intimidating to be surrounded my so much anger; anger which granted, in my opinion, is misplaced towards the United States but anger that is still justified. Zimbabweans are angry about the imposition of sanctions because not only do they feel that such a tool intending to oust Mugabe has failed, the U.S. is preventing the fruition of economic opportunities that is causing the common citizen to suffer. Zimbabweans say, “give us economic liberty, and our political structures will follow.” The United States government however, aware of the degree of corruption within banking institutions and political structures (sanctions blacklist approx. 200 wealthy individuals who have stolen $millions from their own people, and thus are prohibited from travel to the U.S. and have had their funds frozen) continue to uphold the idea that political reform must occur before economic liberty is even possible. Foreign investors won’t invest in Zimbabwe if there is no rule of law to ensure that their money, if loaned, will be returned. Thus, Zimbabwe is stuck in the ultimate Catch-22: economic growth will not occur without political reform, but political reform is hard to come by with little finance to invest in such a restructuring of government…
When I’m not working, I go out and about in the evenings. I think it’s fair to say that I work hard, and play harder! :) This past Wednesday I ended up staying out until 2am Thursday morning! I hung out with Regan, the oboe-playing Marine. It’s funny because he actually in a lot of ways reminds me of Matt Cordell; incredibly extroverted, flamboyant mannerisms, a passionate love for Disney, yet straight as an arrow, haha! The USA vs. Algeria game was on Wednesday night. The two of us ended up walking to a bar called Reps – a great little hangout for local, but mostly white, Zimbabweans. Regan kept buying me drinks and doubling his own. Not surprisingly, he was very quickly ridiculously drunk. Libby, and her daughter, Kirsty, along with their friend Jayke also showed up and I hung out with them while Regan fluttered around the bar loudly auctioning off his musical tickets. It was truly a grand time. Plus, when it neared 8pm, I was invited over for dinner! However, my poor stomach had to wait because I had to take care of Regan and have his driver get us to the rehearsal hall so he could drop off some things. Of course however a quick 20 minute stop turned into an hour and a half at least. It's slightly annoying trying to talk logic to a drunk man, but I did get a stellar insider view into the studio with marvelously talented dancers. It was a real treat.
Finally, I was able to pull Regan away from the rehearsal studio and back into the car. I then instructed the driver where to go by glancing at the address Jayke had fortunately written on my arm in blue pen, haha! Once we arrived, I had the pleasure of meeting Asa, the most HILARIOUS and awesome guy ever! Libby, Kirstie, Jayke, Stan, and Asa had just finished their dessert but they piled my plate full of delicious noodle stir fry, followed by Stan’s homemade vanilla ice cream. It was truly divine. Of course, when it comes to ice cream though, I’m very easy to please. Talk around the table gradually drifted towards music, and upon mentioning my desire for a jam session, I was promptly rewarded. Asa jammed on the piano, Stan picked up the guitar, and Jayke did harmonica and vocals. I just sat back in the overstuffed chair, singing along, and swinging my feet, grinning happily to myself. As Stan said, never joke about starting a jam session around such company; it will more than likely happen rather than not. :)
The night’s finale brought Asa, Jayke, Stan, Regan, and I back to Blue@2 completing a full circle. The five of us piled into Asa’s Audi, which he proceeded to drive insanely fast along Zim’s unlit, potholed roads. Upon reaching Blue@2 I once again greet Roger and Danielle (the bar tenders) for the second time in a single evening and settle into some more social meet and greet with random people. Stan and I also stuck up a good convo, and he offered to buy me a drink or two, which I tried to decline, but out of courtesy and his light teasing, I reconsidered and accepted. We sat down on a couch in one of the corners and made some pretty good conversation until Asa loudly came over and crashed our little intimate gathering. Typical Asa, haha! I think he figured out almost as quickly as I did that Stan might like me. Anyways, then Regan and Jayke joined us again, and brought over the hookah, and the five of us proceed to argue about music and politics, and tell stories until 2am. I love hangin’ out with the boys, especially as the only girl in the group. Not only do you get spoiled with drinks, but you also get to engage in some pretty hilarious and interesting conversations. Nothing beats it. It was one of the best nights ever.
Okay, that’s enough for now. I actually am going to take my snooze in the sun by the pool. I’ll have to tell you about this past weekend’s craziness in the next journal entry.
Until then, carpe diem!!
coverphoto
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Adapting to life in Harare
So, I’m really settling in nicely here in Harare. While working in the Consular section isn’t where I expected to be placed, I am learning SO MUCH. And it’s challenging too. After only three days in the office I’ve been trained to do my supervisor’s (Esther) duties since she’ll be gone in Cape Cod for the next 3 weeks. Least to say, the learning curve has been steep…but I think I’m keeping up, if not excelling! I’ve been assigned to look into all the fraud cases the next few weeks…something I’m not looking forward to, but will be good for me to deal with. Pretty much I’m reviewing cases, scouring them for inaccuracies/inconsistencies that indicate false relationships between an applicant and the sponsor, or any scenario in which someone is using and abusing the system to gain an American visa and never return to Zimbabwe. With fraud cases, the applicant has pretty much been caught doing something questionable…but we have to interview them before we reject them. Guess who gets to do the interviews?? Moi! I’m nervous as hell…but I’m not going to worry about it until I get to the office Monday morning. I need some time to myself this weekend…and after all, I AM an INTERN. I don’t have to save the world here, although I’m really trying to do my best and Ester and Jim are entrusting me with major responsibilities. I just know if I was on the other side of the glass, as a Zimbabwean applicant, and found out that an intern was processing my visa, that an INTERN was deciding my future in America…I’d be hella pissed. If nothing else, I’d demand a refund.
Anyways, I’m really tired. Mayela and I have been going out almost every night this week to some diplomatic social event, haha! As much as I love it though, I’m starting to need some “ME” time. Fortunately, tomorrow will be one of those days, and I’ll hopefully workout, read, write a little, sleeeeeeep. Mmmm, sounds great already.
However, before I doze off for the night, I have to relay my adventures of last night! Friday afternoon after going to Ambassador Ray’s award ceremony for staff, Mayela and I did some grocery shopping and hung out at the house until we left around 3:30pm for Blue2’s…a bar 8ish minutes away. We met up with some other embassy folks and made friends with Danielle and Roger the bartenders J. The whole point of course was to watch the USA vs. Slovenia soccer game, which to say the least was a COMPLETE nailbiter!!! I was really getting into it. Slovenia lead the US 2-0 at halftime, and within five minutes of the second half USA’s Donovan (who I LOVE and want to have children with!) slammed in their first goal making it 2-1! Then with only about 10 minutes left in the game we powered in 2 other AMAZING shots making it 3-2 USA!!! The bar went nuts and I was jumping and screaming…at least until the referee called the third goal “not good”…which was BULLSHIT btws!! No one still knows what the call was. Even the sports commentators were baffled! So anyways, USA was robbed of a win and to stay alive in our bracket, we needed England to either lose or tie to Algeria…which they did! England and Algeria tied 1-1 last night, keeping us still in the running for quarterfinals! WOOT! Anyways, as I was getting all worked up over the game and being obnoxious, this Marine came and kneeled down next to me, laughing for the last ten minutes at my running commentary. When it was over, we both stood up and was like, “So, you like soccer huh? Couldn’t really tell…” and I grinned sheepishly. His name was Regean, late-twenties or so, 5’6’’ or so (short enough so that I could look him straight in the eye, lol) and we ended up chatting for the whole rest of the night. NOW GET THIS! While making small talk, it turned out that we are both into performing arts, etc…but I had mentioned being an instrumentalist and he was like, “okay, so what do you play?” (almost like a challenge, right?) And I very casually mentioned, “oh you know, oboe, trumpet, piano…” and he suddenly flipped out on me! “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” he shouted excitedly. “I play the oboe too!! In fact, I’ve even played with the National Symphony Orchestra!” “What are you doing here in Zimbabwe then?” I asked half kidding, but actually curious. “Oh it’s all part of the Marine gig,” he told me. So anyways, turns out that two people in the world, who play the weirdest of all instruments, strike up a conversation in an African bar and hit it off sharing rare common ground…the OBOE of all things!? Ha! I smiled the whole rest of the night just thinking about the bizarreness of it all. It was funny though, he asked how long I had been playing the oboe, and boldly took a stab at my age. “You’re what, 23? 24?” he asked. I groaned to myself, really not wanted to respond to this typical hypothesis. People always act differently when I tell them my real age. “Uhhh, believe it or not 19 going on 20” I replied. Immediately, I felt a shift in the dynamics. Regean looked a little embarrassed. But I attempted to patch up the awkwardness as always by making fun of myself, and pretty soon everything was comfortable again. I even got a hug when he left. He’s apparently putting together a musical for Zimbabwean kids that are performing the first week of July. He asked me to come…and also asked me for my number. He says he wants me to take over his oboe students when he leaves next month…but of course, I think he just wanted my number, lol. Anyways, it was really fun and I’m sure we’ll see each other again. He’d be a cool friend to keep around. I’m looking for a workout buddy too, so maybe his Marine brawniness will rub off on me a little.
That’s all for tonight, I’m getting sleepy and I don’t feel like recounting today’s somewhat dull events. Of course, I remained positive throughout the day, but I’m torn between wanting to travel around on my own, and building friendships here. They should be quite symbiotic, but today was just a little slow for my taste, and much of the pace had to do with the crowd I was keeping company with. All nice people…I’m just being a little moody right now I guess. Maybe I’ll divulge more later. G’night!
Anyways, I’m really tired. Mayela and I have been going out almost every night this week to some diplomatic social event, haha! As much as I love it though, I’m starting to need some “ME” time. Fortunately, tomorrow will be one of those days, and I’ll hopefully workout, read, write a little, sleeeeeeep. Mmmm, sounds great already.
However, before I doze off for the night, I have to relay my adventures of last night! Friday afternoon after going to Ambassador Ray’s award ceremony for staff, Mayela and I did some grocery shopping and hung out at the house until we left around 3:30pm for Blue2’s…a bar 8ish minutes away. We met up with some other embassy folks and made friends with Danielle and Roger the bartenders J. The whole point of course was to watch the USA vs. Slovenia soccer game, which to say the least was a COMPLETE nailbiter!!! I was really getting into it. Slovenia lead the US 2-0 at halftime, and within five minutes of the second half USA’s Donovan (who I LOVE and want to have children with!) slammed in their first goal making it 2-1! Then with only about 10 minutes left in the game we powered in 2 other AMAZING shots making it 3-2 USA!!! The bar went nuts and I was jumping and screaming…at least until the referee called the third goal “not good”…which was BULLSHIT btws!! No one still knows what the call was. Even the sports commentators were baffled! So anyways, USA was robbed of a win and to stay alive in our bracket, we needed England to either lose or tie to Algeria…which they did! England and Algeria tied 1-1 last night, keeping us still in the running for quarterfinals! WOOT! Anyways, as I was getting all worked up over the game and being obnoxious, this Marine came and kneeled down next to me, laughing for the last ten minutes at my running commentary. When it was over, we both stood up and was like, “So, you like soccer huh? Couldn’t really tell…” and I grinned sheepishly. His name was Regean, late-twenties or so, 5’6’’ or so (short enough so that I could look him straight in the eye, lol) and we ended up chatting for the whole rest of the night. NOW GET THIS! While making small talk, it turned out that we are both into performing arts, etc…but I had mentioned being an instrumentalist and he was like, “okay, so what do you play?” (almost like a challenge, right?) And I very casually mentioned, “oh you know, oboe, trumpet, piano…” and he suddenly flipped out on me! “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” he shouted excitedly. “I play the oboe too!! In fact, I’ve even played with the National Symphony Orchestra!” “What are you doing here in Zimbabwe then?” I asked half kidding, but actually curious. “Oh it’s all part of the Marine gig,” he told me. So anyways, turns out that two people in the world, who play the weirdest of all instruments, strike up a conversation in an African bar and hit it off sharing rare common ground…the OBOE of all things!? Ha! I smiled the whole rest of the night just thinking about the bizarreness of it all. It was funny though, he asked how long I had been playing the oboe, and boldly took a stab at my age. “You’re what, 23? 24?” he asked. I groaned to myself, really not wanted to respond to this typical hypothesis. People always act differently when I tell them my real age. “Uhhh, believe it or not 19 going on 20” I replied. Immediately, I felt a shift in the dynamics. Regean looked a little embarrassed. But I attempted to patch up the awkwardness as always by making fun of myself, and pretty soon everything was comfortable again. I even got a hug when he left. He’s apparently putting together a musical for Zimbabwean kids that are performing the first week of July. He asked me to come…and also asked me for my number. He says he wants me to take over his oboe students when he leaves next month…but of course, I think he just wanted my number, lol. Anyways, it was really fun and I’m sure we’ll see each other again. He’d be a cool friend to keep around. I’m looking for a workout buddy too, so maybe his Marine brawniness will rub off on me a little.
That’s all for tonight, I’m getting sleepy and I don’t feel like recounting today’s somewhat dull events. Of course, I remained positive throughout the day, but I’m torn between wanting to travel around on my own, and building friendships here. They should be quite symbiotic, but today was just a little slow for my taste, and much of the pace had to do with the crowd I was keeping company with. All nice people…I’m just being a little moody right now I guess. Maybe I’ll divulge more later. G’night!
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
First Impressions...
So, yes! I’m finally in Africa. I knew it the very moment. It took only brushing by a grasshopper the size of my two fists, and experiencing the only turbulence in my entire 28 hours of travel...as if the very nature of the place was somewhat foreboding. Indeed, Zimbabwe has many legacies including, but not excluded to: 1) the harboring of an abundance of oversized (hippo), gangly (giraffe, gazelles, you name it), or potentially not-so-cuddly safari animals (lions that ate my roommates shoe!), and 2) a history of political turmoil and constant instability in every aspect of society.
But embassy life, unlike for real Zimbabweans, is not too shabby and it’s something I feel both guilty and grateful for. I am living in a great LARGE house. I have a cozy room all to myself. We live within a self-sustaining compound and have Post One Marines at the ready 24/7 incase of an emergency. Our guards are really friendly, and a driver from the embassy comes to take us to and from work every morning/evening. As we head out the door around 7:30am, we always say good morning to our housekeeper Georgina, and gardener Amon. My roommate Mayela is an incredible gal, sweet beyond compare, smart, and fortunately just as extroverted as I am! J We get along fabulously, and I think we are both glad to not be alone especially in such a palace! Yesterday, she brought me to work with her and proceeded to introduce me to everyone in her office, which left me feeling SO welcome, and ready to have all sort of adventures together.
Eventually, Mayela dropped me off at the Consular Office for my first day at work, which consisted of taking computer security tests, getting my official embassy badge (which is totally badass btws!), signing lots of paperwork, and getting to know the staff. My boss’s name is Jim (ex-airforce pilot), and I also work closely with Esther (Mongolian/language extraordinaire). Together, they introduced me to the ways of the world within the context of embassy lingo and procedure. Ironically, consular work works with awarding immigration visas to the United States – something which I have developed somewhat of an amnesty outlook. Obviously, of the hundreds of applicants, only about half are given the temporary visas necessary for legitimate travel, and with me behind the desk I only want to award everyone a “get-out-of-jail-free” card per se to go to America. The only problems is, sometimes people awarded temporary visas never come back. And that’s why Jim and Esther are there: to sniff out the liars from the honest ones. But, can you really blame Zimbabweans? Can you blame someone for wanting to remain in a country like the USA with so many wonderful liberties when for so long you’ve been oppressed by your own government? Oppressed by your own poverty? No, I don’t blame all those Zimbabweans appealing for visas in our office for 2-3 hours every morning (esp. when dealing with an incredibly slow intern who’s trying to learn the complexities of being an office monkey). I’m going to have to work really hard to become good at my job, asking the tough questions, watching people squirm…as Jim said today, “Like any good lawyer, I’m not going to ask anyone a question I don’t already know the answer to. The key is, do THEY know the answers to their own story.” I guess for me, it’s difficult to want to catch someone in a lie, especially when people are lying about their relationship statuses and other normally petty things that would normally not be a big deal, but instead when in this context, have incredibly positive or disastrous consequences…Besides, being more of an amnesty advocate, it goes inherently against my notions of citizenship and nationalism. But that’s okay, these are challenges I somewhat expected, and I’m not opposed to hearing out the other side. And I guess I’ll concede, despite my optimistic idealism, that I’m already learning not everyone requesting entrance to the U.S. is of good standing. Big Brother can be credited for that. Not only do we take applicants fingerprints, but we take DNA samples in order to prove familial relationships, or to check the numerous FBI, CIA, and local crime databases for delinquent records to make sure that people really are who they say they are. It makes me glad that I’m on the other side of the glass…although Big Brother pretty knows everything about me too since I now work for "him"… creepy.
Anyways, after going to a party last night with Mayela and Mitchelle in which I was drinking with all my fellow co-workers and supervisors (including my boss, lol), people have really embraced me into the tight-knit embassy community. This is an embassy in which most people are married and work with their spouses, but there are also a fair number of other interns from other embassies, like the Brits, Germans, and Aussies, that came to hang out too. We ate potato soup and drank Blue Vine, (a type of German fermented heated red wine with nutmeg) socializing to the backdrop of a huge roaring campfire and the radio rumbling on in the distance about the evening’s World Cup game. I was so pleasantly content, talking to people, eating, introducing myself, making connections…I am continually amazed by the background and experiences of the people I am surrounding myself with. I can only hope that some their intelligence and unique brand of humor will rub off on me during my 10 weeks here. I honestly don’t think I’ll want to leave.
Today, as Jim and I were leaving from the Public Affairs office, he asked if I wanted to take the driver or walk back to the embassy. Having seen Harare only through the mask of tinted windows, I adamantly wanted to walk, breathe in a little of the streets, of the chaos of men dodging cars in tailored suits, young boys selling bananas and newspapers, and of beautiful women balancing large baskets upon their heads flawless and unwavering. As Jim walked me through the city, he pointed out buildings, parks, and began commenting about how although Zimbabwe is still hurting, it’s a lot better than it was even 2 years ago in 2008 with the scandalous re-“election” of Mugabe. People, he told me, especially business owners found it more profitable to hold on to merchandise rather than sell it given the daily plummeting of the Zimbabwean dollar. Similarly, if anyone ever was able to collect a sum of money either from the bank or though business, it was in the best interest of the beholder to spend the money immediately or risk losing it overnight to the economic monster of inflation. I told him I couldn’t fathom such a reality. After pausing for a moment, Jim replied that above anything else, Zimbabweans are the most patient people on the planet. They just wait for things to turn out for the better…and it eventually happens, but jeez, waiting for SO long for basic amenities!? For example, one day after working Jim was driving home and passed a bus stop of people traveling to Bulawayo. The very next morning he drove by again, and there they were, still waiting for the same exact bus that would come. Sure maybe it would come in an hour, a day, a week, but they were just waiting. There was little else they could do. Such a lack of infrastructure, of corruption in the government and banking systems, oppress the day-to-day lives of Zimbabweans, lives in which the average expectancy rests between 35-38 years.
In any case, I proceeded to question why Zimbabweans went through so much and have yet to truly get angry! This ties in perfectly with my Political Dissent class I took this spring, with Gutterman when we discussed how an oppressed group puts up with their condition – due to either fear or resignation – until there’s a tipping point, a breaking point, in which all other means of change have been exhausted, leaving violence as the only remaining solution. Such resulting violence is mostly considered justified. Even Mandela, who definitely advocated peaceful protests in South Africa, also knew the limit of their effectiveness. He didn’t eliminate violence from the handbook of social change. Something needs to catalyze Zimbabweans…perhaps even to violence. I would have thought the 2008 elections would have been a descent time, but I think dissent groups were too unorganized, and the silent majority of common man and woman feared being killed for expressing themselves. Such government control and power requires not a spattering of dissent groups poking their heads out now and then (and thus losing them), but rather an organized mass movement. It begins with a reformed constitution and a new election process providing a structure for legitimacy. However, one must disobey the system to break the system, and only then will Zimbabwe be able to heal, move beyond centuries of incessant tyranny, and stop trading one form of oppression for another – white or black, economic or political.
But embassy life, unlike for real Zimbabweans, is not too shabby and it’s something I feel both guilty and grateful for. I am living in a great LARGE house. I have a cozy room all to myself. We live within a self-sustaining compound and have Post One Marines at the ready 24/7 incase of an emergency. Our guards are really friendly, and a driver from the embassy comes to take us to and from work every morning/evening. As we head out the door around 7:30am, we always say good morning to our housekeeper Georgina, and gardener Amon. My roommate Mayela is an incredible gal, sweet beyond compare, smart, and fortunately just as extroverted as I am! J We get along fabulously, and I think we are both glad to not be alone especially in such a palace! Yesterday, she brought me to work with her and proceeded to introduce me to everyone in her office, which left me feeling SO welcome, and ready to have all sort of adventures together.
Eventually, Mayela dropped me off at the Consular Office for my first day at work, which consisted of taking computer security tests, getting my official embassy badge (which is totally badass btws!), signing lots of paperwork, and getting to know the staff. My boss’s name is Jim (ex-airforce pilot), and I also work closely with Esther (Mongolian/language extraordinaire). Together, they introduced me to the ways of the world within the context of embassy lingo and procedure. Ironically, consular work works with awarding immigration visas to the United States – something which I have developed somewhat of an amnesty outlook. Obviously, of the hundreds of applicants, only about half are given the temporary visas necessary for legitimate travel, and with me behind the desk I only want to award everyone a “get-out-of-jail-free” card per se to go to America. The only problems is, sometimes people awarded temporary visas never come back. And that’s why Jim and Esther are there: to sniff out the liars from the honest ones. But, can you really blame Zimbabweans? Can you blame someone for wanting to remain in a country like the USA with so many wonderful liberties when for so long you’ve been oppressed by your own government? Oppressed by your own poverty? No, I don’t blame all those Zimbabweans appealing for visas in our office for 2-3 hours every morning (esp. when dealing with an incredibly slow intern who’s trying to learn the complexities of being an office monkey). I’m going to have to work really hard to become good at my job, asking the tough questions, watching people squirm…as Jim said today, “Like any good lawyer, I’m not going to ask anyone a question I don’t already know the answer to. The key is, do THEY know the answers to their own story.” I guess for me, it’s difficult to want to catch someone in a lie, especially when people are lying about their relationship statuses and other normally petty things that would normally not be a big deal, but instead when in this context, have incredibly positive or disastrous consequences…Besides, being more of an amnesty advocate, it goes inherently against my notions of citizenship and nationalism. But that’s okay, these are challenges I somewhat expected, and I’m not opposed to hearing out the other side. And I guess I’ll concede, despite my optimistic idealism, that I’m already learning not everyone requesting entrance to the U.S. is of good standing. Big Brother can be credited for that. Not only do we take applicants fingerprints, but we take DNA samples in order to prove familial relationships, or to check the numerous FBI, CIA, and local crime databases for delinquent records to make sure that people really are who they say they are. It makes me glad that I’m on the other side of the glass…although Big Brother pretty knows everything about me too since I now work for "him"… creepy.
Anyways, after going to a party last night with Mayela and Mitchelle in which I was drinking with all my fellow co-workers and supervisors (including my boss, lol), people have really embraced me into the tight-knit embassy community. This is an embassy in which most people are married and work with their spouses, but there are also a fair number of other interns from other embassies, like the Brits, Germans, and Aussies, that came to hang out too. We ate potato soup and drank Blue Vine, (a type of German fermented heated red wine with nutmeg) socializing to the backdrop of a huge roaring campfire and the radio rumbling on in the distance about the evening’s World Cup game. I was so pleasantly content, talking to people, eating, introducing myself, making connections…I am continually amazed by the background and experiences of the people I am surrounding myself with. I can only hope that some their intelligence and unique brand of humor will rub off on me during my 10 weeks here. I honestly don’t think I’ll want to leave.
Today, as Jim and I were leaving from the Public Affairs office, he asked if I wanted to take the driver or walk back to the embassy. Having seen Harare only through the mask of tinted windows, I adamantly wanted to walk, breathe in a little of the streets, of the chaos of men dodging cars in tailored suits, young boys selling bananas and newspapers, and of beautiful women balancing large baskets upon their heads flawless and unwavering. As Jim walked me through the city, he pointed out buildings, parks, and began commenting about how although Zimbabwe is still hurting, it’s a lot better than it was even 2 years ago in 2008 with the scandalous re-“election” of Mugabe. People, he told me, especially business owners found it more profitable to hold on to merchandise rather than sell it given the daily plummeting of the Zimbabwean dollar. Similarly, if anyone ever was able to collect a sum of money either from the bank or though business, it was in the best interest of the beholder to spend the money immediately or risk losing it overnight to the economic monster of inflation. I told him I couldn’t fathom such a reality. After pausing for a moment, Jim replied that above anything else, Zimbabweans are the most patient people on the planet. They just wait for things to turn out for the better…and it eventually happens, but jeez, waiting for SO long for basic amenities!? For example, one day after working Jim was driving home and passed a bus stop of people traveling to Bulawayo. The very next morning he drove by again, and there they were, still waiting for the same exact bus that would come. Sure maybe it would come in an hour, a day, a week, but they were just waiting. There was little else they could do. Such a lack of infrastructure, of corruption in the government and banking systems, oppress the day-to-day lives of Zimbabweans, lives in which the average expectancy rests between 35-38 years.
In any case, I proceeded to question why Zimbabweans went through so much and have yet to truly get angry! This ties in perfectly with my Political Dissent class I took this spring, with Gutterman when we discussed how an oppressed group puts up with their condition – due to either fear or resignation – until there’s a tipping point, a breaking point, in which all other means of change have been exhausted, leaving violence as the only remaining solution. Such resulting violence is mostly considered justified. Even Mandela, who definitely advocated peaceful protests in South Africa, also knew the limit of their effectiveness. He didn’t eliminate violence from the handbook of social change. Something needs to catalyze Zimbabweans…perhaps even to violence. I would have thought the 2008 elections would have been a descent time, but I think dissent groups were too unorganized, and the silent majority of common man and woman feared being killed for expressing themselves. Such government control and power requires not a spattering of dissent groups poking their heads out now and then (and thus losing them), but rather an organized mass movement. It begins with a reformed constitution and a new election process providing a structure for legitimacy. However, one must disobey the system to break the system, and only then will Zimbabwe be able to heal, move beyond centuries of incessant tyranny, and stop trading one form of oppression for another – white or black, economic or political.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
HOLY SH** I'M IN AFRICA!
THIS IS ACTUALLY REAL! *GRINS EXCESSIVELY*
P.S. I find it hilarious how tired I am writing this…perhaps being in such a state can explain such an exuberant simplicity.
P.S. I find it hilarious how tired I am writing this…perhaps being in such a state can explain such an exuberant simplicity.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Midnight Musings
I think I need to split my personality into a million pieces. Then maybe I could actually polish each little orb until it glows indefinitely without needing any more help from me. I mean, isn't that the purpose of life? To leave your legacy to the welfare of someone else when you're dead? And I don't mean strictly fame. Obviously fame (or infamy) have gotten people well establish post-mortem within the public memory.
But I'm talking of something else.
I any guess what I'm trying to express is that I'm just really trying to figure out how to make my life meaningful, in the long run. I find that it's easy to get caught up in daily stressors & anxieties, "wins" and "losses" while moving between life stages, and closing old chapters - but I feel I'm someone who finds her own worth in contributing to the wellbeing of others. And I've been struggling with the fact that politics overall seems increasingly inadequate in addressing universal social ills. I'm not saying that politics doesn't have the potential to change social ills - the potential DOES exist (and such potential is the main structure that keeps my enduring idealism standing). It's just that, when I'm confronted with issues of globalization, poverty, and the role of international institutions, there are so many factors to consider that it's somewhat overwhelming. For example, while neoliberal trade policies and privatization have proven detrimental to advancing South American nations, the same policies are claimed to be crucial for sub-Saharan Africa by improving infrastructure and long term corporate investment. However, then you read up on articles regarding the trade of blood diamonds or the creation of cheap labor markets and you realize how limited public awareness is: (1) partly by choice (as consumers we don't necessarily want to know the consequences our luxuries have upon the degradation of other human beings - take Nike for example who provides non-livable wages to thousands of workers overseas so that we can sweat in name-brand clothing), and (2) sheer ignorance in part due to mass misinformation and marketing schemes.
It's hardball on the world stage. Israel just alienated Turkey, one of its only allies in the Middle East, when it raided an aid flotilla in international waters. Iran is rapidly approaching the final stages of development for its nuclear program. The Gulf of Mexico is being consumed by an oil slick hundreds of miles long due to the greed of oil execs and costing the poorest Americans their livelihood. Haiti, no longer a selling sensationalist story, has been forgotten. It's time that we all recognize our continual gullibilities, our desire for maintaining the status quo, and instead demand accountability.
So here I am, committing my life to a career in politics by appealing to an old cliche and a system that begs every catalyzed individual to "change the world." Take direct action, everyday. Do no harm. Help people live sustainably and healthfully. Aid in the pursuit of dreams. Make the difference to one individual's success. Acknowledge the privilege of growing up as a white, middle class female in the United States. And also, recognize that much of what we find valuable or beautiful is often cruel - everything from a fiery sunset, incensed by pollution, to a well made pair of running shoes crafted by third world wage slaves, are romanticized in order for us to luxuriously detach from the pains of reality.
Thus, to be truly fulfilled is to become an ally to those who struggle against universal forms of oppression.
What career such objectives translate into I have yet to find out...
But I'm talking of something else.
I any guess what I'm trying to express is that I'm just really trying to figure out how to make my life meaningful, in the long run. I find that it's easy to get caught up in daily stressors & anxieties, "wins" and "losses" while moving between life stages, and closing old chapters - but I feel I'm someone who finds her own worth in contributing to the wellbeing of others. And I've been struggling with the fact that politics overall seems increasingly inadequate in addressing universal social ills. I'm not saying that politics doesn't have the potential to change social ills - the potential DOES exist (and such potential is the main structure that keeps my enduring idealism standing). It's just that, when I'm confronted with issues of globalization, poverty, and the role of international institutions, there are so many factors to consider that it's somewhat overwhelming. For example, while neoliberal trade policies and privatization have proven detrimental to advancing South American nations, the same policies are claimed to be crucial for sub-Saharan Africa by improving infrastructure and long term corporate investment. However, then you read up on articles regarding the trade of blood diamonds or the creation of cheap labor markets and you realize how limited public awareness is: (1) partly by choice (as consumers we don't necessarily want to know the consequences our luxuries have upon the degradation of other human beings - take Nike for example who provides non-livable wages to thousands of workers overseas so that we can sweat in name-brand clothing), and (2) sheer ignorance in part due to mass misinformation and marketing schemes.
It's hardball on the world stage. Israel just alienated Turkey, one of its only allies in the Middle East, when it raided an aid flotilla in international waters. Iran is rapidly approaching the final stages of development for its nuclear program. The Gulf of Mexico is being consumed by an oil slick hundreds of miles long due to the greed of oil execs and costing the poorest Americans their livelihood. Haiti, no longer a selling sensationalist story, has been forgotten. It's time that we all recognize our continual gullibilities, our desire for maintaining the status quo, and instead demand accountability.
So here I am, committing my life to a career in politics by appealing to an old cliche and a system that begs every catalyzed individual to "change the world." Take direct action, everyday. Do no harm. Help people live sustainably and healthfully. Aid in the pursuit of dreams. Make the difference to one individual's success. Acknowledge the privilege of growing up as a white, middle class female in the United States. And also, recognize that much of what we find valuable or beautiful is often cruel - everything from a fiery sunset, incensed by pollution, to a well made pair of running shoes crafted by third world wage slaves, are romanticized in order for us to luxuriously detach from the pains of reality.
Thus, to be truly fulfilled is to become an ally to those who struggle against universal forms of oppression.
What career such objectives translate into I have yet to find out...
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