A month in...

Hey friends and fam! I am pleased to inform you that I have not fallen off the face of the earth, only down to the southern hemisphere. I have been in Buenos Aires for just over a month now. After 2 1/2 weeks of orientation, visiting different Universities, and an extremely disorganized and overwhelming class registration process, I am finally about to start my third week of classes. There is one more week of a shopping period during which time I am trying classes in three different universities. Classes are long (usually 3 or 4 hours), with a 15 or 30 minute break halfway through. One of the private universities I am studying at has a lovely modern architecture and is composed of 3 buildings that are alongside a beautiful water front called Puerto Madero, which is near some of the classiest bars and restaurants in the city. I have a class called "Political and Economic Geography of Argentina" and "Compared American Revolutions" there. The first class is mainly Argentine students and the second one, which I am still deciding on keeping, is specifically for foreign students. I am trying 3 different classes at the most renowned public university in Buenos Aires, although it can hardly be compared to the wonderful public university that I call my home back in the States. UBA has buildings for different majors spread out all over the city, and at the moment I have class in the Philosophy and Social Sciences ones. Graffiti decorates the outside of the buildings and almost every classroom. The inside is filled with posters demanding that the school remains unaffected by inflation or that show the face of a recently disappeared youth. This Monday I start my class called "The crisis of capitalism and its consequences in Argentina" with a professor who has a leading role with the Worker's Party in Argentina. I'm really hoping that I'll like that class, because the others that I have tried there have yet to live up to their titles.

Don't worry, I dont think I'll be coming back a Marxist, but certainly with some more open perspectives on things. I have learned so much already despite the fact that classes are just now starting.

More fun things: Ya'll know me and know that it doesn't take much time for me to get busy with activities. My second weekend here I went on a retreat with youth and young adults from a church in the province of Buenos Aires and had a great time and translated from Spanish into English during the sermon on Saturday night, since there was a group of about 25 Americans there. A guy who I had met briefly last year here saw on my Facebook that I was in Buenos Aires and invited me to come to his church and asked me to come to the camp to translate. I am so lucky to have met such an awesome community of Christians in Buenos Aires, and have really enjoyed hanging out with them since.

I have gone to listen to live jazz music twice, once in a library/cafe and another time in this semi-secret house/bar that you wouldn't know about unless you're deep in the music scene (thanks to my very talented musician friend). Tonight I'm going to another friend's band's concert. I've found a rock climbing gym here that I've gone to once. I will also be doing some volunteer work here with photography, which actually plays out pretty comically because I will be photographing some events in bars as humanitarian work. How does that make sense? Well it's a new bar that's hosting benefit events for some local NGOs.

Additional random updates: I got a nose piercing (Mom, even you'd like it). It's a super cute little green stud. I went to get pierces one night after a Spanish-placement exam with two other American friends. Just wanted to throw that out before I got home. Ok so this is just an enormous city and I've never considered myself a city girl, but I'm really loving it here. I do miss my people in the States and my friends dispersed across the globe (shout-out to Mexico, Spain, Italy, Jordan, Benin and Thailand). But I must say that I feel at home here. Last year I said that I want to live here at some point, and look at me now. Today, I'm saying again that I would like to live here at some point (except I'm really torn between here and Mexico, but hey, who says you've gotta pick just one?), so we'll see what happens after graduation.

I send hugs and kisses in all directions and hope and pray for the best for all of you!! Keep dreaming and be pro-active!!!

Summer Unrest

I feel so old, even though I can't even legally drink. Among my girlfriends, none of us are actively pursuing an MRS degree, but today I discussed adoption with one and giving the maid of honor speech at my wedding with another.

I feel so young. We sit and stare into the Carolina Blue sky (good choice, God) and dream together about the endless possibilities, people, and places that our futures hold.

I don't ever want to stop dreaming.

I don't ever want to stop dancing.

I want to be the 60-something couple dancing to live jazz on the grass at Weaver St. Market, their hair poofy and grey and faces illuminated with the animation of children.

I want to keep cracking open watermelons on rocks near a creek in the woods and slurping them until my stomach's aching.

I want to be exactly who I am today.

A Healing Soldier, a Heartful Conversation

During my recent visit to the state of Iowa, I was so blessed to have met a 23-year-old man, we’ll call him Aaron, who serves in the National Guard and trained and fought in Iraq for about two years. At a glance, I couldn’t help but notice his tall, strong build, his big white truck that he had just bought that morning, and his humor that he wears on his sleeve. After talking for a while, it became evident that Aaron has many creative ideas and hopes for future businesses and investments—a very intelligent person.
Aaron and I got to have lunch together one day, during which time we shared ideas and stories about war and peace. Aaron told me several stories from his time in Iraq, about the machine that he was turned into as a designated marksman, and about how he lost his faith in God during his time there.
As the designated marksman, he was given full authority to shoot an enemy if he saw them even with just an automatic car key that had a button—anything that could potentially be used to detonate. After seeing some awful things done by Iraqi soldiers, Aaron found himself hoping that the people in his scope would pull out a similar tool of sorts, anything, just so that he could have a reason to shoot them.
As I sat across from this man, I saw the desperation of confusion reflected in his vibrant green eyes. I saw a loving person who was placed in a hellish environment that calls forth the worst in anyone—an environment that harnesses anger and fear and turns it into a hunger for justice—an environment that estranges one’s own reflection in a mirror.
“I used to be so strong in my faith,” Aaron told me. “I wanted to make sure that everyone knew about God. I used to be such a compassionate person.” He said that he just eventually stopped praying in Iraq. “Some people didn’t lose their faith,” he said. “Some were able to look at all the hurt and the evil and understand that there is a plan for all of it. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t see a way to justify it all.”
I told Aaron that he was precisely right in not justifying the evil that he saw and perpetrated with the often over-used phrase “I know God has a bigger plan.” I didn’t try to comfort him with this phrase either. I would be lying through my teeth and serving as a false witness to God if I had done so.
I surely hope that Aaron will find a good reason to rediscover his faith again—now that he is out of battle, now that he has started to overcome PTSD, now that he has courage to ask what is good.
I’m glad that Aaron didn’t find his strength in war by praying that God would bless and keep his hands that killed, because I don’t believe that the God of the Bible does that. I believe that God sent Jesus to Earth as an example for us to follow. WWJD? He wouldn’t kill. When he was beaten, he turned the other cheek, not because he was weak, but because love overcomes evil. Jesus let them kill him, and then he overcame death.
So what should we do when our nation asks us to go to war, to kill, to defeat evil? First, we should ask ourselves to whom we answer: to God or to America. If the answer is America, then going to a state-mandated war is disobedience to God in the form of idolatry (just as many things could be, ie: the church, a substance, an education, a job…) If the answer is God, then we must answer to God in the form of obedience, which manifests itself as trying to follow the righteousness and holiness in which Jesus walked—a life of radical love that overcame evil—in any situation we face, even if that is during a time of war.
At this point, Aaron is unsettled by violence, which has taken a toll on his body, his mind and his faith. And that’s the first step in becoming a peacemaker.

My [Un] Patriotic Mantra

My Twitter friend and favorite author, Shane Claiborne, had a live interview with CBS one morning while he was in Baghdad as a peacemaker (story told in his and Chris Haw's book "Jesus for President"). They asked him what he thought about America and they hung up on him in the first minute. Curious if Shane and his friends had committed treason, they later inquired if they were "traitors." Shane wrote them the following response:

"Traitor?

If this bloody, counterfeit liberation is American... I am proud to be un-American.

If depleted uranium is American... I am proud to be un-American.

If US sanctions are American... I am proud to be un-American.

If the imposed 'peace' of Pax Americana is American... I am proud to be un-American.

But if grace, humility, and nonviolence are American... I am proud to be American.

If sharing to create a safe, sustainable world is American... I am proud to be American.

If loving our enemies is American... I am proud to be American.

Regardless, I would die for the people of New York, but I will not kill for them... my kingdom is not of this world.

I would die for the people of Baghdad, but I will not kill for them... my kingdom is not of this world. I will stand in the way of terror and war... my kingdom is not of this world.

I will pledge an allegiance deeper than nationalism, to my God and to my family... my kingdom is not of this world. I will use my life to shout, 'Another world is possible' ... for my kingdom is from another place. 'My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight... but now my kingdom is from another place' (Jesus; John 18:36)."

Thanks, Shane, for writing that so eloquently and clearly. Today, and every day that I see an American flag or hear talk of the military, I find myself moving further and further from patriotism. Let's look back at how America achieved its reputation as the great, the rich, the powerful, and the free. Ever since the days our founding fathers, America has encroached upon the freedom, well-being, and resources of others to secure its own. As far as I can remember, this has never been a good strategy of making friends. However, many are still drawn to this sexy, alluring beast that is America. "Come sit, come dine, come taste our fine wine," she invites. We are drawn. We approach the table, only to realize that the seats are limited, and there are many of us. Pushing and shoving ensues as we fight over a seat at the table of wealth and satisfaction. Although the seats are filled, we wait, because we see the guests at the table drinking the sweet wine, laying their heads on the table, and drifting to sleep. Once in a deep slumber, they get carried away by men dressed in uniform, and there's a space open at the table, so we begin to push again, so that we may have a taste, just so that we can know, because with watching, you can only fantasize.

Don't taste the wine, friends. In fact, don't even approach the table. There are green pastures and fresh air on the other side of the door. There are tie-dye t-shirts instead of red, white and blue ones. There are washing machines powered by stationary bikes and centers where kids and adults sit side-by-side to create music and art. There is no need, because everyone shares their resources. There is no wine to allure you (although we can make it out of water in an instant), but you can smell the aroma of coffee that was fairly traded.

Come play with us. Come and create with us. Come, and let's live the dream that another world is possible.

Nearly Done

I leave El Gusano this Thursday night or Friday morning. That's 3 days more, tops, in the place. I'm gonna miss it a lot. I have a ton of pictures so I'm pretty ready to get home and dive deeper into the editing process and work with sound as well. I'm just trying to collect some final stories and some pictures that were so basic that I overlooked them.

I'm excited to share the stories with anyone who will listen of the people I met. Let me know if you want to see some, and I will try to make it happen before I leave for Argentina on the 19th. Lots of stories, a complex issue. I put two pictures on www.flickr.com/photos/brittanykamalei of a lovely woman in the community, Lupe. It's a good place to start.

I hope all is going well on your end, wherever you are. Please send me updates, I'd love to hear about it!

Besos!

Clean Water in Tamaula

Francisco Laguna is one of the elders in the community who has spent his time working in the States but now is in Tamaula to stay. He said that potable water is not an issue during the rainy season, but that they suffer much during the dry season. Each house has a water tank that collects rain water and can store up to about 500 liters. Once the rain stops, their supply dwindles quickly.

The government helps provide water during the dry season, although they are an unreliable source. They bring up a truck of water generally once every eight days that they pour into large water buckets alongside the soccer field, if they remember.

Francisco says that what the community really needs is for each family to have a 20,000 liter water cistern, which is about $600 each to construct. About eight families have already built these, yet the remaining 37 families cannot afford this cost as they struggle to buy food each week. It would cost $22,200 to build a cistern at the rest of these houses. That’s $22,200 for an entire community to have potable water, which is the cost of a semester for of college some of the students who have volunteered Tamaula this summer. While this cost could be gifted by a private donor, there’s an even more sustainable way to go about funding the construction of these cisterns that, over a few years, would be a cost to no one, and even a financial gain to some.

The government probably spends a quarter of the $22,200 in gas and labor costs each year in bringing up water to the thirsty community. If this cost comparison was shown to someone in the local government in Guanajuato, they would be able to see that if they made this investment of $22,200 this year in building these cisterns and stop trucking water up on a weekly basis, then after four years they would have gained the money back in savings gained from a proper reallocation of financial resources.

Although a private donor could gift this money to the community to construct the cisterns, it is better that the government recognizes this plan as a sustainable, effective means of providing a necessary service to its people. This way, they can enact this plan and both save money for themselves over the years and begin to regain the trust of its people.

Another problem is that many people, such as the government, don’t believe that these are real problems because almost everyone in Tamaula lives in a fancy, large house, often times furnished with the riches of the north. However, this supposition is false. The men who migrated north to find jobs sweated over years saving enough money to build these expensive houses. Although water no longer leaks through the roof during the rainy season, new problems have surfaced and continue to abound in Tamaula.

Ignacio Laguna was able to afford an comfortable, one-story house for his wife and daughter, Clara and Luz. The luxuries of this new home include a bathroom, three large bedrooms, two televisions, a large kitchen, and solar panels. While this family lives in Mexican luxury, they continue to use electricity because they cannot afford to replace the dead batteries in the solar panels.

Mexico is full of towns like Tamaula with stories like the Laguna family. The question that political scientists, social critics, and many migrant families are asking is, “Will Mexicans continue to have to migrate to the US in order to provide for their families, or is there another way?” May we never stop thinking creatively and may no box constrain us as we re-imagine a new way.

Adventures abound

I spent the past 3 days in Tamaula, another small rural community in Guanajuato where FCB works and has some projects. They work with some groups that provide goats to families and others that provided some equipment so that a few families can make and sell goat cheese in larger quantities in the community. I loved the family I stayed with. The couple was Ignacio (Nacho), Clara, and their daughter Lucy (Luz). They were so great to spend time with and talk to. Clara and I talked about everything from healthy diets for children to discussing the similarities in her Catholic and my Protestant backgrounds. Shaw and I listened to many stories from Nacho, including how he crossed the border 3 different times (which required several attempts each time) to how he got in an really bad car accident in the states that required so much medical treatment, including a new set of teeth, that he had to go back to Mexico where it was cheaper. In that community, if there is a man over the age of 20 or so, you can ask what part of the states he's been to and there's a 95% chance that he's been. They're all back though, bc life in the states is rough. No jobs, as they kept saying. Not all went illegally though. I think about 9 guys had visas to work with a landscaping company in Washington. One man had a story that just broke my heart. He was working in the states and met his wife (also Mexican) through the company they were both working for. They had a daughter together and were living pretty happy lives. She had gone through the process and gotten papers, and he was working on it, until he got pulled for a minor driving infraction, didn't have a license, and the cop asked him to show his papers, which he obviously couldn't, so he got sent to a holding center or essentially a jail, with all the other people who were gonna be deported. This happened in Alabama, where I'm pretty sure it was illegal at the time for the cop to take the liberty to ask for documentation-that's only legal in a few counties, like Durham County near where I live, for example. Anyways, now he is working with the goats in Tamaula with his father, waiting for Obama to change the immigration laws to allow people who have family legally in the states who were deported due to a minor, minor infraction to be able to return to their families. His wife has another child on the way. Thankfully, they're coming to visit Tamaula next month so that he can see them and his daughter will stay with him for awhile while his wife returns to have the child in the states. C'mon Obama. There are families that are divided due to racist police officers and others all down the system. This is injustice.

So many other thoughts but I've gotta go get ready to go to another community now. I'll write more on the water situation there in my next post.

Shalom.