Voices from the Field

Haiti Benefit Results

2010-04-18T14:21:00.000-07:00

First, on behalf of all IRD staff, I'd like to offer a big thank you to everyone who participated in our Haiti Benefit and Raffle last week near headquarters in Arlington, Virginia. We had a great turnout - over 300 - and those who came seemed to enjoy themselves. And most importantly, we collected almost $40,000 in money for our Haiti programs.

At the benefit we first aired our thank you video to our donors. Take a look and let us know what you think.

Having recently returned from Haiti, I can tell you this video represents pretty much exactly what this money has been and will be going to: building latrines, sanitation training, and providing shelter and temporary employment. And as we've mentioned in previous posts, because of weather, limited resources and deteriorating conditions, everyone in the NGO community is still working against the clock in Haiti. So please keep the efforts in your thoughts.

Three Things to Know about Leogane and Why They Will Build Back Stronger than Ever Before

2010-03-23T07:58:00.000-07:00

By Melissa Price, Communications Officer

Leogane was the closest town to the January 12 earthquake’s epicenter, and 90 percent of the city’s buildings and infrastructure were destroyed. Every one of Leogane’s 150,000 residents has been affected by this disaster.

IRD has chosen Leogane as its primary response site for relief and rebuilding activities, including shelter, sanitation, water, building reconstruction, and agriculture programs.

Given the magnitude of destruction, you might ask how the people of Leogane will survive and thrive in the years to come. Here’s a short list of things you should know about the people of Leogane. It’s just a peek into the enormous pride, strength, and resilience of these men and women.

1. Proud Royal Heritage
At the time of Columbus's arrival in 1492, there were five Taino chiefdoms on the island of Hispaniola. Leogane was built on the site of the town of Yaguana, the capital of Xaragua province, which was ruled by Queen Anacaona. One of the highest Taino chiefs, Anacaona negotiated treaties with Christopher Columbus’ younger brother, Bartholomew Columbus, and the Spanish in 1496. However, the Spanish turned against the Taino people, and Anacaona was later arrested and hung at the age of 39. She is much revered in Haiti, recognized by many as a founder of their country. More recently, Leogane was also the birthplace of Marie-Claire Heureuse Felicite, the wife of the Haitian revolutionary Jean-Jacques Dessalines, and Simone Duvalier, a First Lady of Haiti.

2. Strong Agricultural Background
In pre-Columbian times, the Tainos lived a mainly agrarian lifestyle. The people’s connection to the land continued through the Spanish rule of the island. During the 18th century, the French specifically encouraged the growth of sugar cane, tobacco, indigo, cotton, and cacao. With increased planting came increased importation of African slaves to work the land. The success of modern-day Leogane was born in the fields of sugar cane and banana trees, and it is the back-breaking work of those in the field that has carried Leogane through the centuries.

3. Resilient in the Face of Disaster
Slave revolts in the late 18th century and early 19th century led to the Haitian Revolution. While most of the French colonists fled ahead of the defeated French army, Leogane remained as a French stronghold and was consequently burned to the ground in the early 1800s.

Prior to the Revolution, Leogane had been destroyed by an earthquake in 1770. With the near total destruction caused by the January 12, 2010 earthquake, Leogane and her people have suffered three devastating disasters in less than 250 years, all of which have nearly wiped them from the map. Yet, each time, they rise again—prouder, stronger, and more resilient than ever before.

Sanitation Construction

2010-03-21T14:50:00.000-07:00

by Kate Zimmerman

Having arrived just last week, I'm still trying to see as much as possible in my short time here - so I've been visiting our projects more than I've been writing about them. And right now, our projects are in full swing, so there is a lot to see.

I'll have more on the shelter component in the next few days. But right now, here's a couple of video segments on our water and sanitation component. We've been doing latrine constructions in camps around Leogane thanks to grants from LDS and URJ (Union for Reform Judaism). And USAID has funded expanding those projects going forward.

The latrines are constructed by people living at the camps through our temporary employment program; the video shows two men from the camp finishing work on the base of a four latrine block. They're constructed according to Sphere standards - 10 feet deep, with ventilation piping. To guarantee gender protection at the camp there will be separate facilities for men and women.

Blocks like these will provide basic sanitation to 28,000 people living in camps in the greater Leogane area - the first access to sanitation of any kind for many of these people since the earthquake.

Check out the full video here. The project manager from LDS, Bertouni Theodore, provides the description of what you're going to see. And IRD's project officer, Rosalind, is the one giving the fabulous sanitation training. More on that soon.

Google Map of IRD Activities in Haiti

2010-03-04T13:42:00.000-08:00

This is just a few of the villages and sites where IRD is working.

View IRD activities in Haiti in a larger map.

Leading in Leogane

2010-02-25T13:05:00.000-08:00

By Melissa Price, Communications Officer

Port-au-Prince, Haiti -- The IRD field team traveled to Leogane on Tuesday for an initial infrastructure assessment and our third shelter distribution. Joining us for the assessment were two engineers, who were able to share with us the structural reasons why homes and buildings were destroyed in the earthquake and how we can help the local citizens to rebuild stronger. As part of the assessment, we also conducted interviews with local residents in order to learn more about their needs and desires as they look to the future. We talked with them about their earthquake experiences, their current situations for food and shelter, and whether they plan to stay in Leogane. Here are a few of their stories:

A mother and daughter along Rue de la Croix let us know that they have been living next to their house since the earthquake. All four members of their family survived, but they have no shelter, no food, no money, and no services other than a few international doctors in town. They are relying completely on the international community for help. They would like to stay in town if there are plans to reconstruct and bring the city back.

The owner of a small sundries shop indicated he was also very interested in staying in the Leogane city center. He said that he’s just waiting to see what happens. He’s not sure what exactly he’s waiting on, but he’s just waiting.

Directly across from the sundries shop, a family of five lost their home and is now living down the street in the main city square. They all survived and would like to move back to their property if there are plans to rebuild the city. But they do not have the means to rebuild their home or their lives on their own. They need outside support.

At a major intersection in the city center, the local florist and two workers, both family, died in the earthquake. However, the local pharmacist survived, three workers at a law office survived, and all the children at the kindergarten survived unharmed. These businesses would all like to rebuild and reopen, but no one has heard any plans for reconstruction. According to the locals, IRD has been the first NGO to interview people about future plans.

While in Leogane, the team also had a chance to meet with Mayor Santos Alexis, who said his town is “leaning on IRD.” As Adam said in a previous post, Leogane has experienced 90 percent destruction and 100 percent of the population has been affected. IRD is working closely with the Mayor to determine priority sites for reconstruction, including homes, businesses, and historical community centers. Leogane has such a rich heritage, having been home to ancient royalty and modern revolutionaries, and IRD hopes to preserve the history of Leogane and its people.

Following Tuesday’s infrastructure assessment, the field team held its third shelter distribution for the people of Leogane. You can read a detailed description of shelter distributions in Adam’s last blog post. There are days and days of preparation that go into this three hour event—everything from acquiring the donated shelter materials and cutting the large rolls of plastic sheeting into family size pieces to identifying those beneficiaries who are in the most need and organizing the trucks and security to bring the materials to the individuals.

Tuesday’s distribution went very smoothly, despite a short delay in the beginning because of heavy traffic that held up our four truckloads of supplies. You can see a few photos of the distribution here, and below is a short video clip of some beneficiaries making their way through the line. You may notice that the beneficiaries are separated into small groups of men and women. This is part of the strategic planning in order to protect the women and ensure they are not harmed by any men who might get aggressive while waiting in line. We were able to provide emergency shelter materials to 1,000 families in Leogane on Tuesday. This makes a total of 2,000 families or 16,000 individuals that have received shelter from IRD. And we have plans to distribute materials for an additional 1,500 families in the coming weeks.

In addition to shelter and infrastructure needs, IRD is helping with sanitation needs in Leogane. You can read more about our sanitation program here.

And don’t forget to check out http://www.ird.org/ for the latest news, information, and photos. You can also follow the field team on Twitter @ird_relief, or become a fan of “International Relief and Development” on Facebook.

Anatomy of a Village Shelter Distribution

2010-02-16T07:09:00.000-08:00

By Adam Koons, IRD Haiti Emergency Team Leader and IRD Director of Relief

The rains are coming and people are living in tattered, porous semi-covered structures of salvaged cloth, bit of plastic, sticks, wood, metal and whatever. Our priority is to provide protection in the form of “emergency shelter.” Ultimately we will be helping families build “transitional shelter” that should suffice for several years while the rebuild their own homes. For the moment, there is no time for that. It will come later. Since they already have “structures” of sorts, we are providing families with very high quality and strong plastic sheeting with which to cover their shacks. Each sheet is really quite large, about 15 feet by 6 feet, and each family get two sheets, to use, for the moment as they see fit. Later, with the additional lumber and other materials we will supply instructions for how to construct a well-designed and spacious structure. For now, against the rain, the priority is providing the plastic sheets.

Eventually we will provide support to over 3500 households. We are distributing it to 500 families at a time, or about 4000 people. We already distributed to the first 500 families recently. I am sure it is obvious that this is extremely more difficult and complex than it might sound.

First the preparatory work. From thousands of families, ten of thousands actually, how do we chose 500? We have already selected a set of villages to work in. In those our Haitian field staff asked local government leaders to select the 500 most vulnerable, i.e. poorest and in worst need, households, to start. To those households our staff gave vouchers, little squares of color coded and numbered paper. We had to tell the community members again and again and again and again that there would be many other distributions; that this was just the first; that just about everyone would eventually receive the plastic. This process only took two full days time of five staff members.

The staff also needed to select a central location within walking distance to all the villages: a specific spot that was safe and where access and process could be “controlled.” Then there was security. This is essential. With many thousands who are desperate for assistance and only hundreds receiving it, there is always the threat of “problems,” “disturbances,” or much worse – use your imagination. Or check the news reports, since this frustration-based “agitation” happens all the time. And it is perfectly understandable. So, as much as NGOs like IRD and others try to avoid and distance ourselves from direct military association, in this case we could not afford to. Through the UN, our security was arranged with the Canadian Military.

Then there is the transport. And the cutting. The plastic had to get from the UN warehouse (it was donated by the US government, by way of the UN) to our warehouse, for which we needed to request and schedule one of the tremendously overworked and overscheduled UN trucks. The plastic comes in big rolls, not sheets. At our warehouse, we had to arrange for a bunch of workers with scissors to spend two full days measuring and cutting it into sheets. Then we needed to find – a very difficult task right now – and hire and negotiate a private truck large enough for the 1000 sheets of plastic, to load and carry it from our warehouse in Port-au-Prince to the delivery site in Leogane. Only 20 miles away, but with traffic, and poor roads, three to fours hours distant. Hard to imagine but that much plastic sheeting, for only 500 families, mostly filled a large 30 foot long truck. But maybe it was because there were also 500 rolls of duct tape!

Day of the planned distribution. The truck arrived at the warehouse late for the pickup, and then arrived in Leogane three hours late. But that was actually irrelevant. Because the distribution had to be postponed to the next day anyway. We were told that due to a communications misunderstanding there were no security forces available to assist us. So, clearly it was a no-go. So, back to the villages to let everyone know about the one day delay. Already hundreds had lined up waiting at the distribution site.

Next day. Actual distribution day. The truck full of plastic (and its owner and assistant) had stayed overnight at the Canadian Military base, for protection against looting. And we paid for a second day for the truck. After the drive from Port-au-Prince our various Haitian and international staff all met at the Canadian base to collect our escort for the 20 minute dirt road drive to the abandoned school which was serving as the distribution site. Our security detail consisted of 35 soldiers and two trucks.

There were dozens of people in the school yard and many hundreds waiting outside the gate, significantly more than had vouchers. Possibly thousands. Word travels instantly (actually since the previous days when the vouchers had been distributed), and the arrival of a big truck and military escort is not the best way to keep a secret. The Canadians expertly helped remove the people inside, organize the lines. They set up controls that would allow only voucher holders into the line.

Inside the school yard as we started unloading the truck to prepare, a touch of panic set in. We found that the plastic had been rolled in sets of ten. And they were huge. We had to find a large empty area and start as quickly as possible separating out sets of two sheets from the rolls. Remember, there were 1000 sheets, i.e. 100 boxes that had to be unrolled and re-separated. And the temperature was now about 90 degrees. And dusty.

The Canadians started letting voucher holders through the long roped control-way they had set up. Most of the family representatives that arrived to claim the plastic were women. Many of them older women. Invariably the huge, folded plastic sheets went onto their heads, and then we handed them one roll of duct tape also. Some received the goods silently and stoically. Some, mostly the younger women, smiled. And some meekly and quietly in Creole said “merci” or “merci an pil,” thank you very much. And they exited the school yard, walked down the street controlled and guarded by the Canadians, and off to their villages.

And, not unexpectedly, the process was not perfect. The fortunately sharp eyes of the Canadians, and our own staff, started catching counterfeit vouchers, even with the correct shade of green heavy stock paper. We even somehow found some already-used-and-collected vouchers resurfacing. (Our next set of vouchers will be much more difficult to duplicate, with more carefully controlled code numbers, names and signatures, and logos – we’ll see what happens). Again and again and again we, and the Canadian soldiers – every one of them was French speaking, to the credit of the Canadian military planning – had to explain to the masses of non-recipients that there would be other distributions and other opportunities soon again. That our goal, and the goal of the other aid agencies, was to provide every single household in need with the supplies and assistance they needed, but a little patience, as difficult as that was, was needed.

Almost three hours later the truck was empty. We were all totally exhausted, thirsty, soaked with sweat and covered with a thick layer of dust, and happy to be finished, and starting to feel a bit satisfied that we had helped so many families. But with so many more to go. And there was a huge pile of 100 large empty carton next to the truck. What to do with them? No problem at all. Sadly, but understandably, the cartons were in huge demand for the semi-protection. As soon as the school gates were re-opened, there was a mad rush to get the boxes.

For us the only thing left to do, back at the office, after cleaning up a bit, was to diagnose the process, find any weaknesses, discuss together what we could improve and do better next time. And then, plan our “next time” as soon as possible. And there would be many more.

Back to Normal Life?

2010-02-04T07:18:00.000-08:00

By Adam Koons, Director of Relief, International Relief and Development

PORT-AU-PRINCE, HAITI -- On the streets of Port-au-Prince, everyone who has a few tomatoes to sell, or books of matches, or even cups of flavored shaved ice, is trying to sell them. The streets are alive and bustling with commerce. It sometimes seems like everyone is trying to sell something to everyone else. In tiny little quantities, that do not require much money, enough for today, or the moment. Spilling over into the street. Clogging the already traffic-jammed streets . To those of us who have spent time here before (I lived in Haiti for four years), it seems so very normal………….almost.
Look a little closer and the façade is ruined. Behind, or nearby, or down the street, you will see crushed and ruined buildings. Businesses and homes. A great many of them in which people died. Some have not yet been extracted.

And look again a bit further beyond the commerce, a few feet further back into the chaos. We can see that many people have erected their “temporary” shelters there. They are now living just off the curb, beyond their micro street businesses, in open-sided structures that are lucky to have something partially resembling a roof.

Everyone on the street has most likely recently lost family or friends. So how can they be out talking, and negotiating, and arguing, and sometimes laughing? How can they be acting so normal? Well, what choice do they have really? They have to live, somehow. And so they have to continue doing whatever business they can do. Yes they are still in shock. But that will not change their need for survival. They must continue, and to some extent they must push aside the recent past and focus on the present and the future, and that results in the street scene we see.

And it is truly remarkable, the forced resilience. Even in the teeming shanty-filled soccer stadium we visited in the ground-zero town of Leogane, where IRD is working. Walking along the shadowy three foot wide alleys between the rows of shelters we see tiny little piles of onions, or bouillon cubes, or soap for sale. There is even a solar powered cell phone recharging business.
Watching the street life, and the shanty-settlement life carefully, there is something else.

What’s wrong with this picture? It’s nice to see the kids playing around, and smiling, and trying to cope. But that’s it, there are so many children around. They are not in school. In Leogane all of the schools were destroyed. At the moment, since survival is foremost in the actions of all, there is little capacity, or attention, or ability to address this critical issue. Simultaneous to all of our other activities in water, sanitation, hygiene, shelter, and agriculture, IRD intends to help rebuild the schools of Leogane. We have the technical skills and capacity, and we now need the financial resources to do so.

Ground Zero -- Leogane

2010-01-25T06:43:00.000-08:00

By Adam Koons, Director of Relief, International Relief and Development

PORT-AU-PRINCE, HAITI -- Today we traveled outside of Port-au-Prince and into ground zero. The town, and district, of Leogane, with about 150,000 residents was closest to the earthquake’s epicenter. And it showed. Although, estimates we had heard of 90% destruction were easily visible, the mayor told us that 100% of the population were affected, since even those few whose homes were not destroyed were afraid to enter their still standing and damaged houses. The entire population was sleeping outside, in makeshift shelters of plastic and cloth, in spontaneous settlements within and outside the town center. The police were sitting outside of a damaged police station. When we found the mayor he was camped outside his broken house. Our visit was a “rapid assessment” to understand the emergency needs, gaps, and the types of activities that IRD would be best suited to provide. The mayor, in short, told us they need virtually everything because the population had lost virtually everything.

In one settlement we visited of around 230 families we met a group of young men who immediately approached our vehicle when we arrived. They explained that they were the self-appointed, volunteer, security committee, formed because even in such areas insecurity and theft are a huge problem and far beyond the capacity of the local police. Both the desperation of the population, which has caused mass looting and crime, and the escape of an estimated 4000 prisoners from the earthquake-damaged central prison, has made such community protection a necessity. It was a perfect opportunity for our IRD team to hand out a number of the wonderful solar charged Sunlight Solar Bogo-Light flashlights we were carrying just for such occasions. The flashlights will improve the group’s ability to patrol at night and thereby the settlement’s security. By working closely with the maker of the lights, that were donated, we ultimately hope to distribute thousands of them soon.

Another settlement we visited completely filled the town football stadium with tiny shelter built shoulder to shoulder. We met a few young men who were making wooden frames for additional shelters. They told us they were salvaging the materials from the destroyed homes in town. And amidst it all, we found children playing, as we often do…. and of course, begging us to take their picture, which, of course, we did. One young boy of about five had a home-made kite of salvaged plastic and recovered string. His kite was aloft about 500!

On the way back to Port-au-Prince, after passing a US Marine helicopter landing site and encampment (the helicopters had been passing low and loud overhead all day), we got another sense of the force that leveled an entire town. We came upon a mile long crevasse in the side of the highway that we estimated to be maybe 15 feet deep.

We have chosen Leogane as one of the primary IRD disaster response sites for our activities that we hope will include water repair, sanitation and latrines, shelter, and perhaps agriculture. So, we will return soon.

Running on Empty

2010-01-24T06:31:00.000-08:00

By Adam Koons, Director of Relief, International Relief and Development

PORT-AU-PRINCE, HAITI -- Trying to work here is something unimaginable to the “outside world.” It is being widely publicized that one of the very biggest challenges here in the Haiti disaster response is difficult coordination and poor infrastructure leading to difficult logistics. It for example reported that although the quantity of emergency goods being given to Haiti is enormous, the airport has a backlog of 1400 emergency airlift flights in line for permission to fly to an airport that can handle at most 150 flights a day.

But let’s take it down to the personal level. Today I had an important UN coordination group meeting to attend. Our office/house is in the same neighborhood. The meeting was about two miles away and in “normal times” it takes about 15 minutes. But first, before starting out, it took about an hour to find enough black-market fuel to make the trip. The trip took 50 minutes. Along the way we were exposed to people trying to defy physics. The vehicles were already moving in four lanes on a two-lane road. We were inching along on the sidewalk up against the buildings. Then a UN convoy appeared some distance behind and a UN soldier walked up through the traffic ordering vehicles to move over. The only place for us to move over would be actually inside of a building. So we ignored the UN command. But this is par for the course. Along the way we passed a supermarket that had completely collapsed and the ruins were filled with people climbing around trying to see into and reach into the rubble.

Upon return to our house we found that there was, as usual, no electricity. And the bank of backup batteries were dead. The generator that would normally charge the batteries and provide electricity in absence of a public power grid was not able to run. No fuel. So we used the batteries in our laptop computers and blackberries. Until those batteries died. Then we just tried to do whatever we could do on paper. Three hours later a few gallons of fuel were finally found to start the generator. Now the seven of us can get back to work, and try to share the single internet line we have. I now have 700 emails to deal with. But I will use my precious little time on line to download the dozens of critically important attached files to my hard drive……………and to send this short note (which I first composed off-line).

Immense Need and Immense Challenges in Haiti

2010-01-22T13:41:00.000-08:00

By Adam Koons, Director of Relief, International Relief and Development

PORT-AU-PRINCE, HAITI -- The scene here is remarkably sad. Throughout the city the parks and every open space are filled with makeshift shelters of bits of plastic, cardboard, and tin side-by-side in instant ghettos. The most remarkable example we saw was a long narrow row of hundreds of such “shelters” crammed in the median of a very busy city street, with cars and trucks passing constantly on either side. Sewage fills the streets. These spontaneous slums contain those whose homes have been destroyed along with those who are afraid to re-enter their damaged or possibly damaged homes, and those afraid to sleep indoors as a result of the continuing and sometimes strong aftershocks. In another neighborhood people were just putting their blankets down along one lane of the road, vaguely blocked off from traffic by a few cements blocks.

In spite of the tremendous outpouring of aid from a huge number of governments, organizations, and agencies, the major challenges now include the immense scale of the problem -- so many people need a full range of support from shelter and sanitation to food and water – that will require immense financial and material resources, and the absence of an adequate infrastructure with which to deliver such aid. At the best of times the existing infrastructure was extremely poor, and now it is stretched way beyond its limits. For example the roads are so poor, so narrow, and in such bad repair and the traffic is so congested that it can takes hours to travel a few miles through the city to transport emergency supplies and staff. But many thousands of such trips will be needed. Another significant challenge is the almost overwhelming task of coordination between many hundreds of different aid groups and many thousands of aid workers; trying to prevent duplication and identify and fill needs and gaps effectively.

That said, IRD is not unfamiliar with such situations and our emergency response team is experienced in succeeding to provide substantial assistance and contributing effectively in this kind of context. IRD has particular strengths and skills that many of the other agencies do not have here, for example with respect to our capacity to obtain emergency commodities and our technical engineering skills in water, sanitation, and shelter, and we are currently conducting strategic plans to best apply these capacities.

The recovery process will be a long-term challenge of many years. It must include rebuilding the infrastructure to better standards, to mitigate future disasters. It will also require that we work not only to restore devastated human needs like health care and employment to their pre-disaster state of total insufficiency, but rather that we take this tragic opportunity to focus the attention and resources needed to rebuild the systems to adequate levels. Of course, IRD will be here for the long term to fully participate in and contribute to this process.

A Bitter Sweet Homecoming

2009-07-21T11:57:00.000-07:00

A joint reflection by Gretchen and Kerr

The past 72 hours have been a whirl wind. Thursday lunchtime had us delivering our final presentation to the IRD and SERASI staff; this thirty minute power point had people laughing at Kerr’s dancing skills, and listening to not only our adventures over the last 8 weeks but also our contributions and confidence in these development and peace building programs. By 4pm we were leaving the office, kissing and hugging our colleagues and our friends, and by ten o’clock that evening we were on the plane headed back to the United States. We were feeling excited about our return but also a little sad to leave Indonesia since our internship had been such a great experience.

After 36 hours of travel, we arrived at Dulles airport in DC exhausted and ready to have an American meal and cold beer. We were in the midst of complaining about how expensive this airport meal would cost, when we saw the TV. CNN was reporting on two suicide bombings in Jakarta Indonesia; two “luxury American hotels” had been bombed. Who… Where… and Why were racing through our heads. We sat, hands shaking and jaws dropped watching the news, we could not believe what we were seeing; those dining around us were barely fazed. Unfortunately suicide bombings are somewhat expected stories in contemporary world news; however, this bombing was in an area of Jakarta we now know well and in hotels we drove past many times during our stays in Jakarta.

As we sat in a crowded airport restaurant craning our necks and straining our eyes to try and learn more details about the situation in Indonesia, the man at the table beside us asked us if we were OK. His question of concern was immediately followed by a statement on how much all Muslims hate America. He shared some “facts” about Indonesia – nearly all of which were misinformed, and reflected the general American lack of information about the variety and complexity of Islam. It also couldn’t be further from the Indonesia we experienced on the ground. His view of the country was what he could gather from the 45 second news clips replaying the most recent bombings and those in Bali from several years ago. To him, Indonesia was a Western hating extremist lead theocracy. We’d like to believe that this man and his wife were outliers in their views on Indonesia; however, we suspect that they are probably closer to the general American understanding than we would like for them to be.

Our time in Indonesia could not have been more positive. Everywhere we went we were greeted with open arms and open minds. All people – young and old, wealthy and poor, Christian and Islamic – were happy to meet us and share stories of hope and peace. Teachers longed to learn about the American school system so that they could develop programs to better serve their students. Local community organizations encouraged us to share ideas and thoughts with them to help form stronger programs. We even met with multiple Islamic religious leaders who, being aware of our theological training and Christian beliefs, greeted us with blessings instead of curses. This is the Indonesia we know, and will continue to describe. It is at times like this in the face of violence, that Christians and Muslims need to stand together to advocate for peace and an inter-religious co-existence.

Misha and Me

2009-07-16T02:06:00.000-07:00

Jason and I finally got a chance to visit the Black Sea last week—we still had to work, but we had the weekend off to enjoy the beach side resort of Batumi. We have been really working like crazy people to help get a plan ready; for the uninitiated, this helps NGOs (and private businesses as well) prepare for the Request for Applications that is published by USAID. Very large sums of money are at stake, and the competition can be fierce. Often a proposal writer has an advantage if she can get agreement that her ideas will be supported by the government in question.

Thinking this through, I decided that the very best prospect for support for an RFP would be the President himself. President Mikheil Saakashvili, that is. I knew I had to start small, though, so started out by meeting with my neighborhood green grocer. She didn't speak English, so I moved on.

Next I started interviewing dozens of small NGOs to find out how to get in to talk with Misha. They were not very encouraging. I refused to give up, so I asked myself who else I should ask, and I thought maybe, just maybe, Misha hangs out with the Big International NGOs. I went to each and every one of them in Tbilisi, and if you know anything about this city, you know that it is a testimony to both my determination and my street smarts. But still, no one could tell me how to find the Big Guy. So I moved on.

I thought to myself, perhaps I am approaching this the wrong way. I went to the local expat watering hole, which happens to be a very snappy hotel bar, and walked up to the first person I saw. He turned out to be some sort of consultant for USAID. I was elated! The U.S. has given Misha literally millions upon millions of dollars to turn Georgia into a democracy, with a transparent government and fair elections. Surely this guy could get me in.

I was thwarted again. As it turns out, our friend Misha had other things in mind for all of that money, and now USAID is back in Georgia to fund projects that are meant to help the people get a hold of that slippery democracy thing, and they weren't exactly big on Misha. Alas, it was time to move on.

Rethinking the entire project yet one more time, I wondered if I went and spoke with the permanent protesters who have “cells” that are blocking access to the parliament building and the Executive offices, they might have a better idea of how to get to the Pres. Then I watched on the opposition party news channel (that only reaches about 25% of Tbilisi—and none of the rest of Georgia), about how some folks over there at the cells were getting beaten and kidnapped by mysterious assailants. I moved on.

The light bulb went on! I would go try to see a governor—Misha appoints them because the people aren't as smart as he is—and I finally felt the first thrill of success. I didn't get the governor, but I did get the deputy governor of youth and sport. I figured everyone likes youth and sport. Surely she knows Misha and would give him a call for me. Not only that, but in the first five minutes of our meeting, she explained how the entire government of Georgia is so concerned about its citizens and there rights, they have a total open door policy! All I had to do was find Misha's door! I moved on.

All of my excitement faded when I realized that my time here in Georgia was short, and absolutely no one seemed to know where to find Misha's door. The vacation weekend to Batumi seemed the only way to recharge myself so that I could carry on until my last moment in Georgia, to find Misha's open door.

When I got to my little hotel, I noticed that there seemed to be a big hubbub going on. Police cars shouting through loud speakers, guys walking around with batons, streets blocked off, and all right next door to where I was staying. The focus of this display was surrounding the nicest, newest, most expensive hotel in Georgia, in the best resort city.

I felt a funny feeling in my stomach. I asked my interpreter what was up with all that fire power, and she said, “Oh that's just Misha—he comes here all the time to hang out at the beach.” His door! I ran out to the street and headed for the huge hotel. Several police cars suddenly appeared in front of me, and started shouting in Georgian on their loud speakers. I asked my interpreter what they were saying to me. She said,” they are shouting that you had better move on.”

It seemed I had learned a very important lesson: sometimes we just need to do the real work, and have faith that the right door will always open.

Gender Roles: Differences between the US and Indonesia

2009-07-15T00:54:00.000-07:00

With my time in Indonesia coming to a close I have been thinking about my return to the United States and all of the things I will and will not miss about Indonesia. When I arrive back in the US I am not sure how I will respond to lunches that cost more than $3; I have grown quite accustom to the rice, noodles, fish and fried chicken all with so much flavor at such a small cost. I will also miss the Muslim call to prayer that is blasted through the still hours of the morning and evening. Though I do not understand a word of this call to prayer, and it occasionally wakes me at 4am, it has been a faithful reminder for me to thank the creator for all of the wonderful gifts and graces I have in my life. And of course I will miss all of the people I have come to know and love; in offices and cities all over Indonesia I can confidently say I not only have colleagues but also friends.

Though my time in Indonesia has been great there are a few amenities and luxuries that I am certainly looking forward to upon my return to the States. For starters I can’t wait to wash and dry my clothes. For the past two months my clothes have been hand washed and line dried, oh to wear clothes that are still warm from the dryer! I am also looking forward to driving my jeep; I have enjoyed being driven around while in Indonesia and have felt somewhat like a celebrity, but having the freedom to go wherever and whenever I want will be nice. I am also looking forward to air-popped popcorn, a staple in my diet that I have not had for 9 weeks. I also have a new found appreciation for restrooms which come stocked with paper, soap and running water, sadly I will not miss the mandi squat toilet, or the pail of water supplied to wash my hands.

In addition to my reflection about the differences of food, customs and amenities, I am sure that once I return to the US and step back from this immersion experience I will begin to make several other observations about these two countries, including ideas about family, community and religion. There are several observations that already stand out, one of which is gender roles. The following are a few my observations and comments about how gender roles seem to differ from the roles to which I am accustomed.

Men are always holding babies. Whether it is in the street or on their front porch when families are together, dads and grandpas seem to be in charge of holding, cuddling and entertaining babies.

On the Indonesian domestic flights, women are not allowed to sit in the exit rows until they prove that they are big enough and strong enough to open the door.

At concerts in Indonesia it is the young men and boys, who on the verge of hysteria, scream, wave and sing along with the artists.

Pink is not just for little girl’s clothes and popped collared polo shirts, but also sported by men and women alike with pink cell phones, cameras and motorcycle helmets.

In Indonesia women who to receive a degree in architecture are very rare, maybe 1 in 50. From my experience in architecture school the number of women was closer to 15 or 20 out of 50.

Indonesia has already had a female president, and though she did not win this same woman ran again in the past election.

To me it is really interesting how different countries ideas about gender and gender roles change and develop in different ways. As we work on relief and development projects all over the world it is imperative that we understand not only our own perspective on the world, but also take the time to understand the context in which we work.

Good Intentions...

2009-07-12T21:38:00.000-07:00

Before I left IRD Headquarters for my journey to Indonesia, I was given the plans for latrines to be constructed through the IRD Watsan project in Yogyakarta. The project is part of a larger regional effort for which IRD is serving as a subcontractor responsible for several sub-villages south of Yogya. Each sub-village was to work with IRD to construct their four mandi (traditional Indonesia squat toilet) latrines and exterior water supply valves to serve the sub-village’s water needs.

Having already seen detailed designs, it was exciting to finally arrive in Yogya during my sixth week in Indonesia; however, when I arrived I learned that the design for the latrines had been altered due to several new issues. The first problem was the unexpectedly high cost of drilling wells for the water supply systems. Although it was known that the village’s existing wells needed to be replaced, no one expected that the new wells would need to be nearly four times as deep as the existing ones. This additional depth, in combination with the type of rock discovered, significantly increased the cost of the project. These water supply systems were given priority, so something else had to go.

That something else was the latrines. Some villages lost their latrines all together and the rest were reduced to half of their original size. Now, if it would build a latrine at all, each village would only have two mandi. The reduction in number was a problem in itself, but the sponsor of this particular project made an additional change; it required that for every mandi installed there must also be a toilet installed for the disabled. On paper, this seems to be a perfectly reasonable requirement, and to a Western eye the sit-down toilet and shower look to be a marked improvement to a mandi; however, a visit to the village gives a different perception.

I was able to visit Jambon sub-village for a negotiation meeting over its water supply system. The drive to Jambon sub-village begins with a drive of about half an hour from Yogya on large well paved roads. At that point, a turn between two small buildings reveals a small and unmarked road. The single track dirt road winds through several sub-villages and uphill for a few kilometers or so. This road is littered with the remains of past development projects which stand unused and in disrepair. Latrines with rotting wooden support and tattered blue tarp walls dominate the picture. Jambon sits above and behind these previous projects and displays a striking absence of development help. The negotiation meeting I attended with Jambon sub-village was required due to the extremely high cost of drilling new wells; the budget appointed for the project was no longer sufficient to supply water to the entire village, so IRD was asking the village to come up with money or in kind contributions to make up the difference. Although village participation is a part of IRD projects, this isn’t the way it typically works.

The sub-villages chosen for this project are all similar to Jambon in that they were selected because they have not received previous help with their infrastructure from outside agencies. They have not received this help because they are some of the more difficult villages to reach and therefore in which to work. Jambon is located on the side of three different large hills, and once one leaves the main single track dirt road, the paths around the sub-village are wide enough only to accommodate motorcycles. Many of these small paths are built on a grade of no less than 20%. Although this doesn’t cause significant problems when driving a motorcycle or walking around the village, it would cause significant problems for anyone who is disabled; transportation around the village for them would be nearly impossible. Luckily, none of these sub-villages have individuals with physical disabilities that prevent them from getting around or from using a mandi. This means that these villages will be receiving a toilet intended for people who don’t currently exist in that setting, but of course it could help someone in the future. However, under the current conditions a toilet stall designed for a disabled individual may not have such positive benefits. The villagers are skeptical of the western style toilet in the disabled stall and voice significant opposition to the idea; therefore, this modern addition practically reduces the number of new latrines installed to one. However, although the villager’s input was considered in many aspects of the project, the sponsor was unwilling to yield in this case. The stalls intended for the disabled were non-negotiable. Therefore, each village will only have one mandi and one toilet for the disabled.

As wonderful as the disabled toilet looked on paper, and as impractical as it initially looked on the ground, there are convincing arguments for both sides. At some point, someone introduced the mandi to Indonesia replacing muddy holes and city sewers as the bathrooms of choice. Introducing new hygienic ideas to traditional cultures can be a wonderful idea. But at some point, I wonder, if new introductions stop helping to improve hygiene, or quality of life, and simply begin to try to impose a Western way of life. Is this one of those examples? I don’t know. If some members of these communities begin to use the disabled toilet, it could significantly improve the quality of life for those with disabilities or those infirmed by old age; however, if the communities maintain their current skepticism and disapproval they are instead left with a single latrine for the entire sub-village.

The IRD team actively worked to make the best of the situation, but budget constraints and imposed restrictions tied their hands in many ways. They could decrease the quality of the latrines to more reflect those falling apart in the sub-villages neighboring Jambon, they could shorten the water supply lines and leave some houses out of the project, or they could look for other options that save money but sacrifice quality or quantity. Is quantity the only measure of success? Is one latrine better than none? Is one usable latrine that lasts, better than four that fall apart? Does using Western ideas and building codes make sense in a non-Western society? I don’t have answers to any of these questions, but over the last few weeks I’ve become more aware of how important they are to the development world and how the answers to these questions are one of the key differences in the way that different NGOs conduct business.

The Uniqueness of Mozambique: Points to Ponder

2009-07-10T04:21:00.004-07:00

Mozambique is a unique country. Officially, it's a Portuguese-speaking nation shoved in the middle of a sub-Saharan African environment fluent in English. Unofficially, it can at times resemble two countries in one: the more populated northern region looks drastically different from the more tourist-driven south. Since being here, though, I've also noticed a few other oddities that are worthy of comment. In an effort to provide a little humor to our cultural emersion experiences, I've listed them below:

1.) Michael Bolton is God here. I've heard every song of every album of every bad Michael Bolton hit and non-hit there ever was. I hear them daily. Every other moment, MB blasts from the radios of all Mozambican street corners. "How Can We Be Lovers If We Can't Be Friends" haunts my every dream.

2.) If Michael Bolton is God, then the members of O-Town are Jesus. Do you remember O-Town? Yeah, I don't either. However, they're suppossedly the one-hit wonder band of the late '90s whose music was even far less popular than the Backstreet Boys' most recent albums. During the moments when the Michael Bolton tapes are given a rest, the O-Town cassettes go in. You can imagine how thrilled this makes a girl who's a fan of real rock-n-roll.

3.) Everyone around me wears sweaters, fleeces, and turtle necks. However, it's warm here. Both the highs and lows range around a constant 86.5 degrees. It's t-shirt wearing weather. The way people dress, though, one would think we were in the tundra. Apparently, the "winter season" isn't taken lightly in Mozambique.

4.) There's a man who rides around my town in a pink Teletubby bonnet. He does it for no apparent reason. I think he thinks it's cool. Secretly, I want to be that confident.

5.) Bikes serve as all purpose vehicles here. Today, I saw four adults on one small bike. A baby was on the hip of one of the women hovering above the back tire. That makes five people total. Five people, one bike. Imagine what folks here could do with SUVs.

6.) Going to the bank is like venturing cross-town in rush hour Atlanta traffic. Lines stretch for kilometers. People pass out from heat exhaustion. Waiting for the ATM is an event in itself. Clear your schedule for it.

7.) In Mozambique, they put banana on their pizza. Even odder than this: It's incredibly delicious!

8.) When you ask for the check at a restaurant, the Portuguese translation for this is literally, "I am asking for the check." If you said this in the States, you would be criticized for acting smart.

9.) I'm generalizing here, but most Mozambicans hate dogs. Everyone I've met loathes them. Despite this fact, more dogs reside in a single city block than do people. They are everywhere. Sometimes I think I'm living in a kennel.

10.) Shoes are EVERYWHERE. Apparently, Mozambique is the dumping ground for all of the West's capezios. Old school orange Nikes from the Jordan days mix with two cent flip-flops with no sole. This, combined with the fact, that a lot of people here don't wear shoes. Maybe it's because they can't afford them. Maybe it's because they find wearing them annoying. Either way, if you're thinking of sending something to Africa, don't send shoes.

11.) The toilet water swirls in the opposite direction here. It does this in other places I've been, but it still never ceases to amaze me.

12.) The great outdoors of this country is often confused for both a giant trashcan and a giant toilet bowl. Thankfully, though, the smell created by both of these things doesn't detract from the aromas of stone-fired rice cooking over the grill and fresh fruits hanging from every tree.

13.) If cops in the US are known for coffee and donuts, police here are known for beer... lots and lots of beer. Yesterday, I saw a police truck piled high with cases and cases of 2M, the national beer. Thus far, I've only met two cops who weren't under the influence. Thankfully, though, most police here don't carry firearms.

14.) Although Mozambique stretches the distance from Maine to South Carolina, 95% of its population is below the poverty line, and power is available in only a few of its cities, cell phone reception is everywhere. I can be in the backwoods of the least developed province, and hear the person calling from the US with perfect clarity. I have more problems with cell phone reception in my hometown of Tupelo, Mississippi than in Quelimane, Mozambique.

15.) The most authentic-looking "Mozambican" souvenirs here have "Made in Taiwan" written on the back. Observe the wonders of globalization, my friends.

Gender and Peace Workshop, Another Forum for Communication

2009-07-01T21:03:00.000-07:00

Last week, I was amazed and inspired by the effectiveness of reporting centers and safe spaces for communication between families, and this week is no different. I continue to be impressed with the discussion and problem solving around community issues, in this case gender inequality and injustices.

I was fortunate to attend a “Gender and Peace Training” facilitated by three organizations from the Palu area, YAMMI (Indonesia Civil Society Foundation), SHK (Community Forestry System) and Yayasan Bone Bula (White Sand Foundation). These three groups set out to map the District of Donggala for causes of potential conflict, and a few of their findings include, competition for access to and control of natural resources, inadequate data about ethic groups in this area and policies which are not gender inclusive. From the participatory community mapping, YAMMI, SHK and Bone Bula realized that community members’ understanding and knowledge of gender was less sophisticated than they assumed, so the “Gender and Peace” training was adjusted to address the community members’ specific needs.

The “Gender and Peace” training, which included local men and women, related a variety of information about gender including a discussion on the basic differences of sex and gender leading to increased verbalization of gender injustices in communities. The workshop also included discussions about the discrepancies between the types and amount of work that men and women perform, the barriers to work women face, and the lack of women’s participation in community development and policy. To highlight these differences the workshop facilitator, Jerna Wati from the Indonesia Women’s Coalition, along with the participants, created a timetable or daily schedule, describing women’s and men’s tasks throughout the day. The differences were staggering; women’s schedules were slam-packed with household chores, food preparation and child care, as men’s schedules, with jobs outside the household, had considerably more free-time, involvement in the community and influence in public policies. The workshop participants also discussed the negative effects that these differences in the work force have on women’s health, education and access to information and technology. Following the training the participants chose to lobby their local governments to ensure women are invited to participate in village development planning. In addition workshop participants now better realize gender inequalities and are eager and motivated to hold meetings in their own communities to disseminate this information.

I recognize a discussion about sex and gender, and the realization of gender inequalities will not change communities and policy overnight, but it is a step in the right direction. However, from one workshop on gender the impact could be life changing. Communities will include women’s perspectives and opinions in employment and governmental policy making, and begin discussions about gender with members of their communities. Again I am realizing the power of communication and conversation to avoid violence and maintain peace; all it takes is people talking to one another and understanding multiple points of view. As women verbalize their experiences with gender inequality, and become empowered to discuss their concerns with the government, their communities and their families, I am confident that these women and men will create positive, peaceful and gender inclusive change.

The B Factor

2009-06-29T02:28:00.000-07:00

When I first arrived in Indonesia, I was warned that in certain places I would feel like a rock-star. Children would call out to me, “Hey Mister!” and others would ask to take my picture. I was told that I would generally be the center of attention most places I went. I listened to the warning and thanked the messenger, but then I quickly dismissed it. Why would anyone want to take my picture? What could possible make me interesting to strangers on the street? At that time, I could not have imagined being on stage at a televised dangdut concert three weeks later (Dangdut is a type of Indonesian music heavily inspired by music from India). I had no idea how real the warning of rock-star treatment was actually going to be!
During my work with Serasi, I became aware of what we learned to call “The B Factor.” The “B” in The B Factor refers to the Indonesian word buleh. Originally, this word referred to natives born as albinos, but it eventually came to represent all Caucasian people; now it covers all Westerners. Walking down the streets in many Indonesian cities, I am greeted by people calling out, “Buleh, buleh!” I typically smile and wave a polite hello, or if I’m feeling particularly entertaining I’ll call back with a few Indonesian greetings. This is usually followed by a long deep laugh from the initiator of the conversation.
The B Factor extends beyond the street. Stories were told by Serasi team members of attempting to rent cars in remote locations only to be denied again and again until a buleh appeared. Once the westerner arrived, cars suddenly became available and nearly anything was possible. When the local TV station in Palu learned that Serasi had two buleh interns in town, the entire office was invited to be VIP guests at the station’s monthly concert. We had front row sofas, drinks, and food. The station manager and many of the station employees regularly checked on us to make sure that we were enjoying ourselves. On three different occasions I found myself on stage as some sort of combination of back up dancer and comedy act. The experience was one I will never forget.
I’ve also learned that The B Factor is more than entertainment. While working in the field it was clear that although I was only the intern and had little experience in most of the project areas being developed, everything I said was taken as fact. Even when I did my best to hedge my comments against this possibility the response was always agreement with my statement. The Serasi Program Officer with whom I was working could speak for thirty minutes without being able to convince the local representative of a particular idea, and a quick statement from me could easily change a mind. I was benefitting from expert status based on my ethnicity – not on any level of knowledge.
This aspect of The B Factor comes with a great deal of responsibility. Having all eyes on me for the majority of my time in Indonesia has been a new challenge. Although it can be nice to have every word I speak be respected and believed, I have had to be intentional in remembering to speak cautiously when helping to brainstorm ideas, for as soon as I speak an idea the brainstorming screeches to a halt. In our efforts to help communities around the world, it is important to be conscious of the cultural clout that accompanies us. Working in an office of Indonesian nationals and spending time with local people in the field, it is important for me and all expat workers to remember that we are only guests in this place and that the decisions should be made by the people. Even when we aren’t interested in making the decisions for the local people, it is also important to remember how highly our opinions are respected, regardless of how well educated they are. We are here to help, but if we are not conscious of the weight of our words, we may well end up doing more harm than good. Serasi’s system of using local staff in Palu seems to help. This system is designed to support peace building in Indonesia by allowing the local people to make their own decisions and appears to be a good way around the overpowering influence of The B Factor. The more people that are allowed and encouraged to use their own ideas to help themselves the more likely the peace will last.

Condoms and Communication

2009-06-27T13:31:00.000-07:00

Gretchen and Jason know what they're talking about when they note the importance of communication. Similar to Jason's fiasco with the sausage-looking-thing which was intended to be a kabob, I've also suffered from a few minor communication mishaps since being in Mozambique. In an effort to avoid fessing up to my own personal blunders, however, I'll instead do what any good employee does and tell about those of my boss. (Since this certain boss will most likely be reading this, I must also request that he not fire me for exposing this to the world.)

Four years ago when Nick, our director in Maxixe, was first learning Portuguese, he was dining at a local breakfast spot merrily eating his meal until he realized his toast was missing jam. He called the waitress over, said obrigado for the tastiness of the breakfast thus far, and asked if she had any preservativos, or preserves, on hand. With a mix of contained laughter and shock, the waitress asked Nick to repeat his request. “Preservativos,” he said again, “to put on my bread. Do you have any preservativos for me to use?” Overhearing this, other customers looked at Nick with the good-humored compassion I've come to know so well in these parts whenever an American puts his/her foot in his/her mouth. The waitress gave Nick a smile and let him know that what he was actually asking for was condoms to put on his bread. Preservativos is Portuguese for condoms.

As you can imagine, the word perservativos stands out after hearing this story. I read it in IRD's HIV/AIDS prevention documents, I hear it when staff are training community-based organizations in proper methodology, and I remind myself to avoid it each time I'm asking for jelly. In short, the word has really made its way into my limited vocabulary here in Mozambique. So, I must say that I'm incredibly interested when one of the few words I recognize becomes the subject of passionate conversation among every single community-based organization that I meet with here. According to all these folks, preservativos femininos, or female condoms, are part of the answer for HIV/AIDS prevention in their country. Female condoms are the elusive missing link.

The reasons for this, our focus groups say, are numerous: Many men and women in Mozambique report that they don't use male condoms because they feel that they are physically uncomfortable during sex. For these same groups, however, female condoms are said to go unnoticed with both males and females unable to distinguish a difference between the feeling of sex with a female condom and the feeling of sex without. Because of this, men and women are more likely to use female condoms when provided. Additionally, in some areas of Mozambique, male condoms are directly associated with evil spirits and are believed to be the cause of disease rather than the prevention of it. Female condoms, however, do not have this same stigma. Finally, both genders report that females are more likely to use condoms during sex than males. If a female can individually control the use of a condom during sex, more condoms will be used. In short, men and women alike agree that female condoms have the ability to reduce the spread of HIV/AIDS in Mozambique--and perhaps create results far more beneficial than any other method on the market.

The complication with this, however, is that access to female condoms is not widespread in this country--practically nonexistent in fact. And when female condoms are found, the cost is over 2,000% more than the price of male condoms.

Such information is startling, no? All of the folks we've talked to here are in agreement that female condoms are needed more than any other HIV/AIDS prevention tool in Mozambique, yet somehow, this need is yet to translate to the services being offered in these parts. For some reason, female condoms are nowhere to be found.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but this is one communication issue that needs a solution.

[In my next blog, I'll address just what type of solution may be in the works in Mozambique... and tell you how this corresponds with Aquarius' and my upcoming work in the northern part of the country.]

The Wishing Tree, World Refugee Day 2009

2009-06-20T05:18:00.000-07:00

This past Thursday, folks from our office here in Tbilisi attended “Real People, Real Needs,” the official opening of World Refugee Day by United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR)-Georgia. The event took place at Mtatsminda Amusement Park (Wish Tree Square), a perfect choice to give just a few (300) of the many displaced children here in Georgia a chance to experience what most American kids take for granted: park rides and treat or two. There was also a bazaar where IDP and Refugee families sold handmade clothes, jewelry, handicrafts and home-produced honey. Although there are different ethnicities and national identities involved, one commonality for all of the displaced families is an unquenchable spirit to survive today's hardships, to sometimes look backward with both deep grief and happy memories, and to always look forward with hope—and skepticism.

For many of these families, promises have been made and promises have often been broken. At least on this day, some sense of normalcy prevailed; laughing and excited children clambering to get on the next ride (elbowing out any adults who dared to get into line, too), a lively and bustling marketplace, the usual local VIP speeches and the satisfied but worn out feeling at the end of it all.

Tomorrow will not be like this for IDP and refugees, however. They will go back to the serious challenges they face: waiting for decent toilets and reasonable ways to cook simple foods, and if they are lucky, help to find some kind of employment. The kids will walk for long stretches to get to a school where other Georgian children also face serious problems; this is a young democracy with many growing pains. The IDPs and refugee families will question whether they are really going to be remembered by the “normal” populations as we all return to our regular schedules and busy lives.

As I go through my own days ahead, I hope that the tiny bit of time I am spending here can help Georgia's youth—both IDP and “normal,” look forward to broader opportunities and a chance at real choices, as they grow with their country. I know these small duties I have been performing for IRD—and just one day for the kids at the amusement park—sometimes seem small for such a big challenge, but I am confident that it is in this collective work that we can move into Georgia's future together.

Images Top to Bottom: The Wishing Tree, four little girls perform dances, two boys enjoy a cartoon game, IRD staff members Charles Specht and Robert Harris buy homemade honey at the craft bazaar, two youth perform a traditional dance.

2009-06-19T12:14:00.000-07:00

(editors' note: this post is actually courtesy of Gretchen Van Ess, who has limited internet access while traveling to project sites in Indonesia.)

Communication is essential and believe it or not… decreases violence.

As Jason has found out how important communication is when ordering food and working in the field in Georgia, I too realized its importance yesterday afternoon, as I chatted with three women about their IRD sponsored project.

For the past 6 years KPKP-ST, a local group advocating for women’s equality in Central Sulawesi, has been working on mitigating violence against women in the Poso district. They have hosted hundreds of community discussions allowing women to articulate their concerns and together formulate solutions. The women of KPKPST recognized the importance of communication in problem solving, especially in an area recovering from conflict. I can’t imagine a more constructive way to ease tension, communicating and understanding one another’s views, opinions and beliefs.

Over the last three months KPKP-ST has been disseminating information in more than thirty villages to increase awareness and skills in reporting cases of violence against women and children. KPKP-ST has also opened more than thirty Village Information and Reporting Centers for Victims of Violence against Women and Children. These homes, voluntarily offered by members of the community, serve as safe locations for female victims to receive both legal and communal support following cases of domestic violence. In the few short months this program has been running, KPKP-ST staff has seen a decrease in domestic violence and family fighting in the Poso District.

Along with being a safe house, these village reporting centers are heavily used as a resource by both women and men to discuss household concerns. Community members feel comfortable using the centers’ volunteers as mediators, assisting families with issues of communication, child rearing, and increased stress and tension. Community members even refer their friends and neighbors to the center, claiming it is an excellent recourse and place for families. These centers are being utilized by community members as a preventative measure, offering families a place to communicate, long before domestic violence occurs.

As I was returning from the visit yesterday I was reflecting on the impact and success of these reporting centers. Originally designed as a place for women to find assistance in reporting cases of violence, these homes are being used before physical violence transpires. Can you imagine what our communities in America would be like if we had village centers offering free guidance and mediation in household spats. How much better would men, women and children communicate with one another if they were freely given tools and examples of positive communication styles? Would our domestic violence shelters be empty if from the first point of tension, stress or anger, people were give a safe and unbiased forum to discuss their thoughts and concerns?

Simple communication is decreasing violence against women in Central Sulawesi, and I think this method could and probably should be replicated in our own communities.

Good Table Conversation...

2009-06-17T04:21:00.000-07:00

You know, I can’t read a word of Georgian.

There are some fourteen unique alphabets in the world, and Georgian is one of them. Unfortunately, I can’t even make out a single letter of it. You can stick my two favorite words in front of me, gamahrjobat (transliteration, meaning “hello”) and didi modloba (trans: “thank you very much”) – words I repeat frequently as they represent the extent of my Georgian vocabulary – and tell me that it was my street address and I wouldn’t know any better. I am completely illiterate! And it is frustrating to no end!

Struggling with this, I realized that one of my normal coping strategies while traveling abroad is to look for cognates and transliterations whenever possible. In France, for example, I just sounded out the words. In India, the Hindi signs were usually subtitled with English transliterations. Good stuff, real helpful…unfortunately, signs here are subtitled with Russian transliterations. And my Russian is even worse than my Georgian!

This is particularly frustrating when I am hungry. For example, Clare and I have tried many of the local restaurants in our neighborhood, always hoping that they will have an English menu. Of course, this is rarely the case and we usually point to things on the menu based on their price. We just say a prayer and hope it will be something hot and good. Finally, last week we found a restaurant that had a transliterated menu and we excitedly searched for foods we had tried and liked over our short stay. I remembered seeing a dish with skewered meat the week earlier and rushed to order something called “kabob,” thinking I had cracked the code.

After waiting in anticipation, I got a foot long sausage wrapped in a tortilla-like pastry. It was served with a side of spicy ketchup.

At first I thought that I had lined up the transliteration with the wrong line of Georgian writing. Tired of eating whatever happened to come out, and determined to get that skewered meat (regardless cost and embarrassment), I ordered kabob again. This time I paid close attention to which line of writing I pointed to.

I got another foot long sausage thing.

Again unrelenting, I tried to remember meat dishes we had with Georgian friends – ah, shashashuli! Nope. This was a stewed meat dish in a sizzling clay pot. I think it was goat meat. I was getting farther away from my shish kabob by the minute! Meanwhile, Clare was making similar efforts to get a dish she remembered being called “bean in pot” and we slowly took in that our language problems were symptomatic of our cultural illiteracy writ large (yup, pun intended).

Finally, noticing our table full of small plates of meats and vegetables, and having observed our repeated efforts to pantomime food descriptions to an equally frustrated server, a patron came over and offered to help. He spoke English and asked us what we were trying to order. At last, I got my shashlik. It was delicious.

As we walked home, I couldn’t help chuckling to myself about how complicated a simple thing like eating meat on a stick could become when there is a breakdown in inter-cultural communication. I thought about IRD’s USDA agriculture program in the Kvema Khartli region of Georgia. They were able to include a group of new IDPs into their existing micro-enterprise farming project this past spring; helping these displaced farmers earn some money and feed their families. Like many of their projects, IRD did this through a successful partnership with a local NGO.

Clare and I weren’t exactly going to starve that night. And we weren’t in Tbilisi because a conflict forced us out of our home. We certainly aren’t country experts like IRD’s international staff here, either. None-the-less, having a local partner sure seems like a smart strategy.

Income generation and sustainability: The magic cure-all… or is it?

2009-06-14T07:45:00.000-07:00

Monday in Maxixe finds the internet down all around town. No emails, no Skype long distance phone calls, and saddest of all, no in-between time on facebook. What's a person living in this modern age to do! Nick has been calling the internet company all morning trying to get the problem fixed. As expected with technology issues in Mozambique, it's as of yet to no avail. The only answer the company provides is to say that there's a glitch in the fiber-optic cable. Oh no! Not the fiber-optic cable! I have no idea what this is, but it sounds serious, right? I mean, you could blame the world's end on a problem with the fiber-optic cable and I'd probably be convinced. And according to Nick, that's oftentimes just what happens around here. If there's a problem with the phones, it's the fiber-optic cable. If the fax machine messes up, it's got to be the fiber-optic cable. And if you're late to work, just say the words “fiber-optic cable” and everyone will give a knowing nod and a look of unsolvable desperation. From what I've discovered, these are the three magic words in Maxixe. (Gosh, the thought of this creates many a-good Saturday Night Live skits in my head. Can't you just see Tina Fay giving the Weekend Update and blaming the current economic crisis on the fiber-optic cable?)

Both similarly and sadly, I've discovered the use of three other magic little words we in the West use that can at times sound just as ridiculous to the folks in Africa as the F.O.C. does to us. These are income generation and sustainability; two politically correct, buzz-worthy topics that can be studied add-nausea at any university boasting an international relations program. And for good reason. The words just sound so good, don't they? They roll off the tongue so easily, providing graduate students galore with inspiration for that final year's thesis project on what Africa needs to develop itself. Income generation and sustainability. What could be better than transforming outside aid into programs where the people themselves make the money that keeps their organizations afloat? This type of ingenuity rocks, eh? It counteracts all those dependency models that keeps Africa crying for foreign aid and instead provides a way for them to pull their own selves up by their flip-flop straps, right? Hmm... maybe. But then again, maybe not.

From what I've discovered thus far, income generation and sustainability may sound good in theory, but it's actually one of those things that's less practical when put into practice. If the economic system isn't relatively developed with high-skilled systems already in place, it's difficult to imagine an income generating project that could generate enough money to allow an organization to become completely sustainable on its own.In many cases, I see this playing out with the work of the home-based care (HBC) programs here in Mozambique. The HBC system works with groups of community-based organizations (CBOs) whose members are volunteers who visit HIV/AIDS patients in their homes to help them climb their way back to recovery. In return for the services of the volunteers, NGOs provide a limited amount of funding (about 25 dollars per volunteer per month) so that the HIV/AIDS operations in the country can function. In addition to this, NGOs provide the vast majority of the antiretrovirals and funds for the operations to exist in the first place. In the case of Mozambique, I couldn't even begin to say how much money is funneled in through this system. Millions upon millions of much needed dollars flows into this country each year.

Now, rightfully so in many cases, the criticism made by the income generation and sustainability folks is that there's a real danger being created in this system of aid dependence. What, they ask, is Africa going to do when the money goes away? Indeed, this is a good question. God forbid it from happening, but just what would the majority of developing countries do if funds for HIV/AIDS, women's rights, disease prevention, etc dried up? How would they sustain themselves and keep the operations in tact? I have no answer for this. However, I do know that most of the models for sustainability and income generation don't provide an answer yet either. Although a system built on going directly to the people and asking them what they want to produce seems decently just and democratic to our Western ears, it's also not going to be workable in the long run. No apron project can generate enough money to keep a working organization afloat. No AIDS ribbon arts and crafts project can provide a constant flow of cash so that the volunteers will keep working after the aid groups are long gone. I'm unconvinced that any of the income generating sustainability projects we talk about will ever provide a real answer. And when we think about it, it's almost funny that we expect them to. What percentage of American organizations are self-sustainable on their own? What nonprofit that you know of can function without funding from outside grants and governmental organizations? Very, very few.

In discussing this, I’m wondering what others out there think about these topics? Do you know of workable income generation that can sustain a new organization for the long-term? If so, please comment because I’m struggling to make sense of these concepts that don’t seem to make much sense on the ground here in Africa. I don’t have an answer. However, I can say from watching the work of IRD and how they successfully manage to balance the thin line between workable programs and slow but steady and real sustainability-building that there is an answer somewhere out there. Perhaps it won't be as catchy and clean-cut as the income generation/ sustainability cure all that we currently talk about, but I'm thinking it will be just as thesis worthy for all us grad students out there. But until then, let's just blame all of the unsolvables on the fiber-optic cable, shall we?

Conflict Resolution in Indonesia

2009-06-12T00:12:00.000-07:00

The people of Indonesia are some of the kindest and warmest that I have met anywhere in all of my travels. They live in a country full of diversity, life and beauty. This overwhelming kindness and natural beauty make it hard to believe that our work for the last two weeks in Central Sulawesi with Serasi has focused on conflict mitigation in the aftermath of devastating religious conflicts during the last ten years. Much of the conflict in this region occurred around the city of Poso. For many years Poso was a peaceful city, located on Tomini Bay, whose residents were almost evenly split between Christian and Muslim. Although there are a variety of stories from the locals about why the conflict started, the results of the conflict have left the most lasting impression.

Driving through Poso entire neighborhoods exist where only the charred foundations remain of houses once occupied by their Christian owners. Although the lots remain untouched, the owners of these homes have rebuilt; however, most of them have done so an hour away in the town of Tentena. What were formerly two inter-religious towns are now each distinctly homogenous in their religious character. Although there are mosques in Tentena and churches in Poso, they remain empty and are far out numbered by churches and mosques respectively. The damage was equally caused by both Christian and Muslim and the effects have been felt by both groups as well.

The old market in downtown Poso sits nearly empty as both Christian and Muslim refuse to return to shop along its streets. Those streets are now safe, and the conflict has subsided, but this peace has come mostly through a program of segregation and separation. The impact of the conflict also stretches far beyond geographic relocation. Many people were killed and families’ livelihoods were impacted. Farmers who were forced to leave behind their farms have cleared new land wherever they relocated with severe impact to the environment. While in Poso and Tentena we were able to work with a variety of NGOs and CBOs who are trying to address these situations.

Some of the most rewarding time was spent with several local youth groups. Each has a unique approach to help mitigate the conflict ranging from an environmental awareness jamboree to a youth exchange program. One group is even planning to implement a talent competition to promote messages of peace that they are calling Pamona Idol. The youth in charge of these programs show an incredible maturity and reality about the harm caused by the conflict and their creativity in addressing the issues often far exceeds their adult counterparts.

Even in the face of constant reminders of the conflicts of the past, the people of Poso District maintain a positive attitude. The picture included in this post is of a local dance from Poso called the dero (deh-ro). We were able to learn the dero from representatives of several local NGOs with whom we met in Parigi. The dero is a community dance only performed with a large group. It is now one of the few ways in which men and women, Christian and Muslim can celebrate together.

The conflict and its memory are still very real, but many people and organizations in this area are ready to write a conflict free future for Poso, and Serasi is helping to make this dream possible.

The Enduring Roles of Women in Georgia

2009-06-09T23:55:00.000-07:00

Gahmarjoba from Tbilisi!

My impressions of women in Georgia were both surprising and in some ways, contradictory. Strong and proud are two words that come to mind first; fashionable, patriotic and vulnerable are others. Women and the different kinds of work they do serve as a backbone to the renewal of this beautiful country, and also the vibrant business community of Tbilisi.

During our first full day on the ground, we went on a tour outside of Tbilisi. Because there was a large demonstration planned, I think our hosts were concerned that we get out of the city—just in case. As we traveled toward Gori, another important city where IRD has an office, we went to some ancient churches, most of which were surrounded by the ruins of protective walls. Georgia is a country with a history of many occupations and invasions. The churches themselves always have the bell towers on the outside, and many graves of significant people on the inside. They tend to have beautiful frescoes and are mostly stone and very old wood.

An interesting beginning of how Christianity spread across Georgia is the story of St. Nino. She wrapped a cross in her beautiful long black hair to protect it from all enemies as she carried it on in horseback to establish the first Christian church. As we went from church to church, all had different expressions of this original Georgian saint, but in each depiction, the same image of the cross wrapped in her hair unifies the painting or fresco. One of the most common names for girls in Georgia is Nino, in her honor.

After we had seen the churches, we went to a cave city. This is just as it sounds—a whole city carved into the side of a small mountain of soapstone. There was a market place, many homes, a meeting hall which also appeared to serve as a court of justice, because it included a place for capital punishment to be conducted (a whole dug deep in the ground from which it would be impossible to escape, and in which one would have to stand). One home was quite grand, and clearly belonged to an important family. There were cooking pits, places to hitch horses and even a form of aqua duct, allowing water to flow naturally down the mountain, perfect for the townspeople to access.

In the valley below the cave city was their graveyard; during the Soviet era, attempts had been made to develop the ground for other purposes, but each time they would begin construction, a great storm would rage, flooding out the work, leaving devastation behind. The Soviets finally gave up, and so now the graves remain relatively undisturbed.

Georgia is a country in which women have played an important and acknowledged role at many turns in history. As I said above, St. Nino helped to establish Christianity here; somewhat later, there was a woman, King Tamara, who was so instrumental in creating Georgian culture in the twelfth century that the church canonized her, and her portrait hangs in many of the churches and other important buildings. She helped to develop a strong and proud Georgian identity, aspects of which can still be felt today. They call her “King” because the way that they understand gender here is more related to activity in some ways than simply biology. She is certainly acknowledged as a woman, but is honored with the title of “King.” The women in Tbilisi with whom I have interacted are very proud of her contributions to Georgian society and culture.

Women in Georgia today suffer from serious underrepresentation in government and make far less money than men for the same work (much like America), yet still have a strong presence in contemporary history as well as ancient: for one example, the only chess champion from Georgia was a woman. Probably the most significant ways that contemporary women in Georgia have helped their country and their people have been through two very important activities: holding together family under extremely painful and difficult circumstances, and being centrally important to economic renewal through small business enterprise after the wars.

As I walk down the streets of Tbilisi, I see all sorts of women who cover a broad spectrum of culture and wealth. For example, I might see an older woman with scarf, long dark skirt, woolen socks and worn out shoes walking next to a younger woman wearing nothing but couture with the latest haircut and the perennial very high heels.

For me, though, the most compelling story of women in Georgia, is the story of the women and girls who have been displaced by war from their homes and farms both fifteen years ago and just this past year. The conditions under which these ladies have to help their husbands and children survive are really appalling. The older internally displaced persons from the war of Abkhazia have been put in old factory buildings, army barracks and similar housing, which has fallen into deep decay. The buildings are desolate and dirty. The families live in tiny one and two room areas, with no kitchen or toilet. the communal toilet is simply indescribable by any standards of decency. The injuries run deep with these families; they have not healed from their losses, nor do they seem to have much hope for the future. We saw the kids playing around the buildings, creating for themselves through imagination and spirit, the toys and playgrounds they don't get to enjoy. We were told by their proud parents of how the children walk far to school each day and take their studies most seriously.

A hopeful opportunity in this disaster is the work of NGOs such as IRD that try to alleviate the worst of the suffering. With medical supplies and renovations, some of the IDPs' situations have improved enough to help the people feel at least some sense that the children may escape some day. IRD will be doing more work here to help more families, and continue to help develop a renewed belief in building a brighter future for Georgia and its poorest citizens.

One woman we spoke with showed us her tiny IRD renovated family room—there were two rooms total—with a new floor, clean and freshly painted walls, new and insulated windows and what most Americans would see as very modest furniture. She spoke in Georgian but her eyes filled with tears as she became more and more emotional. Our interpreter told us that she said that this had been a dream fulfilled; at first I was really wrapped up in her happiness; we met her daughters and their babies, all of the women beaming and proud.

But then the interpreter told us that she has liver cancer, and had been through several painful procedures. I noticed that she had a blanket wrapped around her middle, probably covering the dressings. Still, as she kept talking, telling us about how her daughter was learning English and was attending college, her eyes spilling over with tears, she finally—in English—blurted out in a loud voice, “I love you!”

I wasn't sure if it was okay, but I felt so moved by her story, I allowed my impulse to take over to give her a big hug. I felt that she wanted to be able to really express our mutual humanity, and she seemed relieved by the moment of human contact and affection. Then there were hugs all around!

Another woman with whom we spoke, like the other people in these collective centers, seemed very distressed. She held a picture of her son who had died in the war fifteen years earlier, and it was clear that she had not experienced full healing from her loss. She wanted to tell me all about him, and I listened to her words, trying my best to feel the emotions and stay with her, even though I don't understand her language. Then, her daughter-in-law arrived and handed grandma her baby. This finally brought some relief from her sadness and plaintive tones.

There are as many of these stories as there are families to talk about, but there is a wonderful spirit of hope, playfulness and, yes, anger here, that I pray will some day push Georgia to it fullest potential—especially with the help of organizations such as IRD.

There are lots of other aspects of my experience here so far, but these were the ones that seemed the most important to share immediately. There are all of the cultural aspects of Tbilisi, the food, the wine, the people—and the constant mission to find real (not instant) coffee! There are also many aspects to the work we are doing to help develop and, of course, help fund our new project. But a taste of our first days here seemed best.

Image: Fresco of King Tamar

Two Experiences in Gori, Georgia

2009-06-09T23:27:00.000-07:00

Our arrival into Georgia happened to coincide with Independence Day here, and the opposition parties planned a day of protests against the incumbent Saakashvili government. While dramatic, these protests, which have been going on for most of the spring, have been relatively peaceful and well organized. Given that the opposition planned an escalation of their ongoing actions for that Tuesday, however, our hosts felt that the best possible thing for us to do was to take the day and spend it as tourists outside of Tbilisi.

Tuesday morning, we were picked up at our flat and whisked off on a whirlwind tour of the historical sites in the communities surrounding Tbilisi – including several ancient Christian churches and the ruins of a town that was carved out of a sandstone cliff. The highlight of the tour for me was a visit to Gori, a city of about 50,000 people in eastern Georgia. The name Gori, comes from the Georgian for “heap” or “hill,” and refers to a castle that sits on a mount above the city. As we drove passed the city hall on the way to our destination, I couldn’t miss the giant statue of Joseph Stalin that stood in the plaza out front; seemingly one of the last vestiges of the Soviet era. Gori was Stalin’s birthplace, and we were on our way to see the very spot where he spent his early years.

To be honest, I am not really sure how to describe the Stalin museum. If anything, it felt like we were stepping back into the Soviet era, with its architecture and iconography in full glory. We were given a tour of the museum, which included Stalin’s biography, death mask, state gifts, personal memorabilia, his personal train coach, and the house where he was born. We seemed to be presented with a very thin veneer, which attempted to cover a painful history. Afterwards, we went on a drive around town and enjoyed a meal of Georgian cuisine at a local restaurant. While our visit was short, I was glad to have spent time there as a tourist learning about their fascinating history.

It wasn’t long before we returned to Gori, however. During the rest of the week, we visited IRD’s project sites around the country. One such project was their OFDA transitional shelter program in Gori.

Located only about a half an hour from Georgia’s capital, Tbilisi, Gori is where the Russian troops halted their invasion during the war in August 2008. During the war, ordinary citizens fled South Ossetia, the main area of conflict, to stay with family and friends in Gori and elsewhere in the country. Typically, they were only able to bring what they could carry with them and most of the families that hosted Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs) where ill-equipped to support them. In the wake of the conflict, IRD set up a project in Gori to help IDPs and their host families with financial and material support. IRD provided money to help winterize hosts’ homes and offered a menu of material packages that included bedding, firewood, household supplies and other non-food items.

During our return visit we saw a completely different side to Gori: this time we visited with IDPs and their hosts. One such family was that of Buzalzig Tamuld, who now lives on Radzmadizu Street. Mr. Tamuld and his family lived in South Ossetia before the war and fled when South Ossentian and Russian troops came into his hometown. He greeted us with warmth and insisted that we sit down to enjoy some pastries, and cha-cha (home made vodka) that his wife had prepared for us. As we ate together, he told us about how he awoke to the sounds of soldiers entering his house and narrowly escaped with his family to his neighbor’s attic. He watched as they ransacked his house in search for guns, destroying the house and the memories that made it a home. Shortly there after, Mr. Tamuld brought his family to stay with his mother-in-law in Gori. IRD’s assistance meant that they could add a room to his mother’s small house, making it livable for his two children. The assistance package, while ultimately modest, helped them at a time of critical need.

During the last few months, Mr. Tamuld has tried to return home to rebuild his life in South Ossetia. For the time being, he and his wife have left their children in Gori because he says it is not safe enough for them to return yet. While they have secured their house, they have decided not to replace the windows or finalize the reconstruction until after Russian troops leave South Ossetia. Until then, they live with the constant fear that war could break out and that he could lose everything again.

I wish that Mr. Tamuld’s experience was unique. Unfortunately, there are thousands of IDPs living with family, in collective centers and in settlements in and around Gori. All told, during their four month project, IRD was able to help some 17,500 people, all of whom have similar stories to tell. More importantly, IRD is committed to developing and implementing new programs aimed at helping IDPs in long-term and sustainable ways. If I was “glad” for my first visit to Gori, I was deeply moved and grateful for the second one.

In the last week, I have tried to make sense out of these two opposing experiences in Gori. I suspect that as I learn more about the experiences of post-soviet Georgia and the complexities of its history, spirituality, culture and people, I will return there often. What I have learned is that the pain underneath that veneer in Gori is real and current. And the work IRD is doing is critical.

Image: Mr. Tamuld and his mother-in-law.