Artistides de Sousa Mendes saved the lives of over 30,000 people in Southern France in 1940. He did so in defiance of orders from the Portuguese Dictator who in turn disgraced him and blacklisted him, eventually leaving him in poverty. This included the loss of Casa do Passal his iconic family home in Cabanas de Viriato.
Only decades later was his name restored and the story of his heroic deed recognized throughout the world. However at this very moment his magnificent home continues to be neglected and teeters on the brink of collapse, waiting for a plan to be approved and carried out, to restore it as a symbol and tribute to those in this world who don’t just follow orders and who take action to help others regardless of the risk to themselves.
I had a chance to visit Casa do Passal during Carnaval in Cabanas over the past few days. The following video contains moments from that visit.
Sometimes you’re reading a book, attending a lecture, watching a film, or listening to an interview and a voice grabs you. The story grabs you. The combination of the story, the voice, and some unknown, undetectable qualities grab hold of you and they shake you somehow. You may have been paying attention, but now you’re really paying attention. You may have cared, but now you’re passionate. You may have had ideas, but you’re inspired.
Photo by Al Jazeera English on Flickr
Sarah Abdurrahman is one of those determined, inspired, and modest voices that pulled me into her world recently. A producer for On The Media, she has been heavily involved as a Libyan-American activist with the Feb 17th voices movement, or as properly known on twitter: @feb17voices. This group of people, including Sarah, are doing what they can to get real information about what is going on around Libya during this critical time. Its obviously no easy task and there is great risk for those on the ground, not to mention the fear of not succeeding that many have struggled with even before this amazing uprising.
In one poignient moment while being interviewed, Sarah speaks about her father, who decades ago was doing the exact same type of work only with different technology. She speaks about how the older generation has fought and feel that disillusioned after having not succeeded back then. She wants them to know their struggle is part of this struggle. She wants them to know what anyone who fights in this life for a better world wants to know: that they didn’t do so for nothing. That their lives have had purpose, and they are appreciated, and directly connected to everything happening now.
Do yourself a favor, be open to inspiration. Listen yourself to the fantastic Sarah Abdurrahman’s testimony. It won’t be the last time the world takes notice of her.
Temple photo by flickr member: Everything Everywhere
The Preah Vihear temple is piece of world heritage dating back to the 9th century. But the war being fought over who controls it between Combodia and Thailand is going on right now in 2011.
This past month saw more fighting between both nation’s military, with a number of casualties, all despite the fact that there has been an international court of justice ruling on who rightfully controls the temple. Some forces in Thailand see it as a matter of national pride and heritage to hold on to this ancient site, while the Combodian government answers with their own bravado. In the line of fire lay poor people, historical heritage, and a legacy of violence.
My guest is a blogger, author and concerned Khmer-American Sambath Meas who has appealed to the UN and ASEAN to stop the war and mediate a settlement. You can read her letter and more posts related to this conflict on her site, you can also read her book “The Immortal Seeds: Life Goes on for a Khmer Family”
Update: Sambath just posted a followup video to our interview on her site! In my 6+ years of podcasting, she is perhaps the only guest to ever do so!
In late 2001 I moved to Lisbon, Portugal in search of new adventures, a stronger connection to my roots, and to basically roll the dice and see where life would take me. Like many children of Portuguese parents who return to Portugal in search of work, I ended up an English teacher at a large corporate school outside Lisbon. This particular area was also where many multinational corporations, embassies, and comfortable retirees were located. These were the sources of the often entertaining and very interesting students that sat in my classes.
One particular gentleman came to my attention when several other teachers told me there was a middle eastern man who spoke no English and no Portuguese and was therefore very hard to communicate with. I was immediately curious about both the person and the challenge. For several months I’d also been privately and rather lazily been learning to write Arabic letters, I wondered if this might not be a chance to get some critique of my work.
The day came where I saw Sadiq* on my roster, he was going to be a student in my little class. In that tiny glass walled room we went through the usual lesson and as others had warned me, he couldn’t follow much compared to other students. I did what I could to communicate and one point I tried to use French which, to his great pleasure, worked! As class ended Sadiq seemed to light up as he explained that he is Libyan and he works at the embassy but that he speaks neither Portuguese nor English. He’s pleased I speak French and asks me some questions he wasn’t able to ask earlier about the lesson. After that I decided to further break some ice by asking him what he thinks of my notebook filled with Arabic letters and words that a toddler could probably write with ease. He laughs. He points to the page and he points to me and in his limited engish he happily exclaims “you?” Yes. Me.
Photo by Steve Rhodes on Flickr
In the months that followed that meeting Sadiq’s English progressed to a very encouraging level. We no longer used French and he would even write up some short Arabic exercises for me to try. On the occasions where I would be taking a break in the lounge he would sit next to me and talk about how things work in Libya. He knew I was curious, from the climate to the traditions, he always seemed to have something new to explain. One memorable time he joined me sitting with a female colleague who had just been outside smoking. He seemed concerned and went on to explain in his English “In Libya, women no smoke. She is beautiful, she is strong, and she doesn’t put terrible things in her body.” My colleague was of course not impressed and replied, “What about men, it is ok for men?” Sadiq frowned and said “Men are terrible and dirty, so they do these things.” The answer wasn’t great by many standards, but as always I appreciated Sadiq speaking from the heart and showing me what I imagined others might say if I were sitting in Tripoli.
Strangely enough for the next months Sadiq would often invite me to embassy parties and cultural events. I would be introduced as “the professor” and the consulate officials of Algeria or Tunisia would greet me warmly every time. On occasion there would be an example of Libyan culture or folklore on display and Sadiq would walk me through each item and each tradition. I’d leave the events with my head filled with stories told in broken english and pamphlets about how the Libyan economy works.
One day at an event there were copies of Gaddafi’s infamous little green book, which made me laugh as I thought about Mao’s little red book. Sadiq asked if I wanted one, but he didn’t have a kind word to say about it. He immediately moved on to a book of photos about Libya. He proudly pointed to the cityscape of Tripoli, the beautiful coastline, images of large scale agriculture. He was extra adamant about a photo of what I think was a female police officer, I remember him saying “In Libya, Mark, woman can do everything. Not like other places where they don’t let.” I was still processing that moment when he turned to the last photo which showed Gaddafi reviewing a military parade with an array of rocket launchers and tanks. After so many pages of enthusiastic description he pointed and said “this is not so nice. I don’t like this,” and closed the book with some disappointment.
I never asked more about the government and how he felt about it. The country he taught me about was filled with great stories and great beauty. Indeed I decided for myself that as a Libyan in that era it might be safer to avoid or ignore the government and focus on the beautiful things as much as possible.
In the fall of 2002 I left Lisbon for Amsterdam, but I would return for occasional visits and meet him for tea. Eventually he mentioned being recalled to Libya and realized I would probably never see him again. He insisted that one day I would come visit his country and he would be my host. He told me about his wife and children waiting for him back home.
That was over 6 years ago. Today we sit home and we watch some kind of revolution happening in Libya. 40 years of a mentally disturbed dictator are not totally over yet and the trauma will last far beyond his days. I watch the videos and the photos of street battles and I wonder how Sadiq and his family are doing. I hope they are safe. I hope they have a better future ahead of them. Who knows, maybe years from now you’ll be reading on this site about my reunion with Sadiq at Liberation Square in Tripoli.
Restorative Justice (RJ) isn’t a new idea but in the modern day world of criminal justice, few people know about the tremendous impact it is having in different parts of the world. In an era where everyone likes to talk about being tough on crime and locking away or executing the bad guys, RJ is making strides in areas our criminal justice system never could on its own.
The following podcast is to introduce the concept and practice of restorative justice as it is being used to address crime on a individual as well as mass scale. As we watch citizens of nations throughout North Africa and the Middle East, as well as in the United States, rise up and demand justice, it is more important then ever to examine how to best achieve this justice and address the emotion and trauma that comes with it.
My guests are: Les Davey – CEO of the International Institute for Restorative Practice UK
Howard Zehr – Professor of Restorative Justice at Eastern Mennonite University’s graduate Center for Justice and Peacebuilding and is the editor of The Little Books of Justice and Peacemaking series.
Polling Station Worker, Uganda by: flickrmember peprice
We are less than 2 days from presidential elections in Uganda, a place that already is regularly left out of the front pages and trending topics in many parts of the world. When you add to its usual lack of coverage the fact that right now whatever international news is getting attention is focused on any and all protests in Algeria, Libya, Iran, Yemen, Iraq or Bahrain, it is a bad time for anyone that wants to hear more from Uganda.
Myself in my own work, though I say I focus on under reported news, Uganda and Ugandan elections are topics that I have not touched on often enough. Still, with a president election this weekend, what I do know is that there is a president (Museveni) who has been in power for more than 25 years. Regardless if he would be a perfectly charming and benevolent president, 25 years qualifies as too long and a matter of suspicion for this citizen journalist. After having eliminated limits on how many terms a president can serve, the Ugandan leader has earned similar criticism and concern in his home country and among the international community.
In the lead up to this election, my sources on the ground have warned of fraud. They’re concerned with how easily it could happen, especially if the government can manipulate final vote counts. There is a need for eyes on the ground, for reporting, and observing. It seems anyone involved it trying to do so is going to have a major challenge on their hands. This challenge deserves the same kind of support we’ve seen pouring out over the past few weeks for Tunisia and Egypt.
One place I will be looking throughout this process, besides the various voices on twitter, is on the UgandaWatch site. UW is an Ushahidi report-mapping system where Ugandans can submit, via sms or web, reports about what they are seeing wherever they are in the country. This will help, though it doesn’t tell the complete story, to understand what is really going on compared to whatever the office of the president may tell us.
Let’s hope it is a good weekend for voters, journalists and election observers in Uganda.
