Citizen Reporter

The Voice of Hanna Braun

“We’ve been here before!” Hanna Braun said to herself back in 1948 as Arab residents were expelled from Haifa. She had been a member of the Hagana before the Israeli army had been formally created – before there was even an Israel. She had escaped Germany at the height of the Nazi era, and tells marvelous tales of life in Palestine and how the dream of a secular, multicultural, state was stolen away by a select group who saw violence and hate as tools with which to build a nation. When she was old enough to fully understand what had happened, she dedicated her life to fighting injustice and increasing understanding on both sides. Hanna Braun was a friend of this podcast who taught us about a time in history and an experience that no school book has ever been allowed to publish. She passed away in November of 2011 at the age of 84. This podcast features our first ever conversation, recorded in February 2006, about her life growing up, and what led her to become such an outspoken activist and deciated humanitarian.

Her Memoir – Weeds Don’t Perish

The Journeyman

“How many flights have you been on in the past year?” – the Lisbon airport employee is holding a stack of papers as she runs down a check list survey, the bright morning sun is filling the room through the glass walls. Despite my sleepy state I have a pretty good idea of the answer – 20. “Business or pleasure” – she asks in a routine manner, not taking her eyes off the paper. My work is my pleasure, I see friends and do work everywhere I go – so both, I respond. She doesn’t seem impressed with what I always think is a cool-guy answer to give, not to mention that its the truth.

6 hour lay over in Lisbon, city that I love and has played an important role at almost every stage of my life. 2 hours the day before at Newark airport, a place that few people speak well of, yet I always feel at home as I wait for the flight back to Europe. I know exactly what terminals are where, what gates are for what airlines, and around what time flights for different continents leave. The people who have such knowledge are usually the business types. A category of traveler I might sound like, but I am most certainly not.

Unlike the business travelers who travel as much if not more than I do, I’m not part of any special club that gives me extra perks. I don’t stay at multi-star hotels, I couch surf. I don’t go to convention centers directly to the hotel-bar, I make time to wander around the places I travel to and speak with people who live and work there, a side effect of my personal journalistic mission in life. I don’t drink myself to sleep off free booze on the plane and I don’t try and make one more phone call as the plane is pulling away from the gate. My travel itinerary may look like that of an international business veteran, but the truth is my travel adventures have been constructed out of clever planning, the goodwill of others, and work that values my expertise enough to fund the trip. Some might know all about what club lounge has the best buffet, I know about what seat in couch gives me the most comfort and ease with getting off and on the plane. Where they may know who’s first class has the best sleeper seats, I know what airlines let coach passengers bring an extra carry-on item to help avoid lost or delayed luggage claim upon arrival.

A few months ago I mentioned (on twitter) a concern for the cost of a conference where I was going to be speaking. This concern was met by some criticism among some who said that for all my traveling, how could I complain about money? Back in the US I know some who say they’d love to visit other countries, but don’t have the money. What neither of these groups realizes is that when it comes to traveling, there is a long list of ways to do it on the cheap. Even with the cost of flights being what seems to be higher than ever, a clever planner and a passionate explorer can find a way. Managing to see some of the world, doesn’t mean you need to be rolling in dough. Money may play a role, but the desire to really travel matters just as much, if not more. I’m no businessman, but I’ve managed to get around so far in my life – I say you can too.

From the Basement Studio Where It All Began

Newark Image: Designbydexterity / flickr

In the late 80’s and early 90’s, my parents built a studio in the basement of our home. This plywood and carpet creation would become the home for The Voice of Portugal, which proudly served the Portuguese of New Jersey for almost a decade. It was this very spot where I first spoke into a microphone as a child. 20 years later I’m standing on that same spot, recording a podcast update about this current journey in the United States, and the new projects I have launched this year.

I mention 2 new projects; 2 new weekly podcasts Im involved with:

Newz of the World – A weekly news review co-hosted with Tim Pritlove

United Academics Podcast – Interviews with Researchers from the World of Physical and Social Science

How Do We Get There From Here

As the sun disappears behind the concrete horizon, I look across the 10 lanes of highway that are currently all filled with cars moving extremely slowly. Everyone in their own vehicle on their way back from work heading home, everyone hoping this traffic will clear up, just as they hope everyday around this time. The highway is massive and bleak, with shards glass and tiny nondescript car pieces along the shoulder. The sound barriers couldn’t possibly block out all this sound, but communities along the highways of New Jersey figured that out long ago. Most of them are used to the 24 hour, year after year sound of trucks and cars roaring in the direction of New York or Pennsylvania.

This is New Jersey in 2012. This was New Jersey in 1992. A few decades pass, but other than the shape and design of the newer cars on the road, the feeling has not changed. If anyone happens to tune into news in the car, they could surely hear a report about the state of the world, specifically about the environment and the point to which humans are pushing it through our own collective behavior. But thats just on the news, the story out there is doing the daily routine. Getting through the day. Making that car payment. Paying that mortgage. Living that life we were taught to live.

Along the highway, between the occasional tree or building, there are the billboards. One in particular is for solar energy for your home. There’s a phone number under a picture of a solar panel. I wonder how many people have dialed it and how things are working out for them. A Prius pulls in front of me, I almost forgot there were hybrid vehicles out here among the SUV’s and livery cabs. The exit ramp takes me around and over the highway, the bridge I grew up crossing everyday looks worn and crumbling. The etched date in the concrete reads: 1974. I wonder how much we’ve really learned since then.

The Shiny New Shame of Africa

AUHQ — Image on long term loan from the China Daily

This week leaders of the African Union celebrated the completion of their state-of-the-art headquarters in Addis Ababa. A gift from China, built with Chinese money and Chinese Labor. Recently the Indian government completed work on the Ghanian State-House. Everywhere you turn on the continent of Africa, leaders continue to make deals and accept gifts that look like progress but in fact, as Chika Ezeanya explains it, is an insult and a crime against Africa. Through her work, writing and teaching, Chika reminds Africans and the entire world that the real tradition of this wonderful continent is not to hold out your hands and have someone build you a new headquarters, it is to work hard use your own skills and strength – that is the often ignored African Way.

Background Reading and more information; read Chika for Africa, the best out of Africans, for Africa!

91 Excellent Years, And Counting

I can remember at the end of every summer when I was kid, having to wake up before the sun came up, to get a ride from the town’s lone taxi driver, who would take us on the long journey via the treacherous and twisty national roads of Portugal before the dawn of highways, to catch the plane back to New Jersey. Right before my brother and I would get in the car, my grandparents would do the routine: wish us a good trip and ask us if we forgot anything. Then my grandmother, who even back then never had trouble speaking her mind, would speak a dramatic line like she was rehearsing for a very poor rendition of McBeth, “I probably won’t see you next year, as I’m old and I probably won’t survive til next summer.” This would be followed by us half-laughing at her over-dramatic delivery as we’re trying to focus on the journey ahead, and the traditional, “oh be quiet with that stuff” from my grandfather. More than 20 years later, I’ve noticed my grandmother no longer says it, as I guess around the age of 90 it is simply implied.

The beauty of having grandparents around the age of 90, who are still of mostly sound mind, is that you can ask all the questions many people never get to. Instead of learning about your family based on second or third hand stories, you have the very people who lived unbelievable moments and did the kind of hard work that seems impossible for any modern day work-from-anywhere self-employed person. You also get to watch them reflect on a world that they have observed for almost 100 years… even if they were too busy or napping for many of those years. In an era where we stash our elderly out of sight and praise the virtues of being young, I’ve had the good fortune of never losing touch, and always being enlightened/entertained by one set of my grandparents. Even better, throughout my life, I’ve gotten to help my grandfather in his orchards, listen to my grandmother in the kitchen, and laugh at the cold weather while sitting with them around a fireplace.

Not everyone gets to do this. That truth never eludes me. It is a rare treasure that no one is guaranteed and many are denied. I would call that one of the main reasons I would share stories about them, to share the wealth in some tiny and perhaps naive way.

Today my grandfather, José da Fonseca Jr. turned 91 years old. Whatever his age, however different my world might be from his, he is a part of everything I do and the way that I do it. Parabens Avô!