Traffic and Revenge.

the gun i wish i had is quivering in my hand right now, my violence and rage is overpowering and intoxicating, but what if the coin was flipped, what if i couldn't do anything about it, what if it actually played out like this:

The door opens a crack and a soft, mildly upset voice passes through with deceptive ease, "Has anyone seen Nikki?"

I'm sitting on the floor across from my roommate, playing cards, leaning on our bunks. The voice outside belongs to David, one of Nikki's best friends here at the house. He's never really this timid, that's why he and Nikki hit it off. The outgoing people here found each other quickly and spent lots of our group's free time together. I glance at my watch and look up at David, "No, when was the last time you talked to her?"

"She told me after lunch that she was heading downtown to buy a new shirt or something."

It's almost 8 o'clock in the evening. San Francisco is getting dark about now, towering buildings blotting out the sun in the heart of the city, this fine August night.

"Asher, it's almost 8."

"I know David." He's starting the freak me out the more I look at him, watching his expressions change, quickly becoming more and more panicked. "I'm sure she's here somewhere, just keep asking around."

"I've already checked with everyone else."

My heart skips a beat. I feel a chill ripple through my arms and I accidentally drop a couple cards. Derek, my roommate, is none the wiser, and I can see the same wave coming over him.

Here at our group house in San Fran, all of us know all too well what might have happened to Nikki. There are about 25 of us students from around the country studying human trafficking and how to spot it, report it, and take it down. Our high blood pressure is well warranted right now. Every night prostitutes line the streets in certain districts of the city.

Derek and I stand up in a split second and David steps into the room, closing the door behind him. He lowers his gaze and slowly looks up at us, saying, "we need to go find her."

"How the hell do you expect us to do that?" Derek's voice almost cracks, "None of us know our way around here."

A second of silence gives the weight of this situation a little bit more time to etch itself into our collective psyche. Shallow breaths scrape from each of us in raspy turns. I want so badly to panic. And then I just want to be armed. Then I wish I had a car. And, again, a gun.

David breaks the tense stillness, "there are already a couple people on board and willing to go look for her. Nate and Mike and Ernest. But obviously none of them brought their cars."

The three of us stand in a tight cluster at the center of the room. I'm probably stepping all over our card game. I don't give a damn at this point.

"David, maybe we could call the cops."

"Derek, that's insane, they'd be nearly useless. Unless they have a trafficking unit... Okay, we won't rule that out, but let's get other people on board first."

David turns and opens the door and the three of us shuffle out, looking for anyone else with an open door. Mike, Nate, and Ernest come up the stairs, huffing. They must have been running through the whole house. Mike stops a few feet from us, "guys, the Professor's calling the cops. They should be here in a few minutes."

David turns on him, "Why would they need to come here, Mike, huh? Nikki's downtown and needs them there!"

Mike is taken back with David's tone and clears his throat, "Dave, they're gonna take a couple of us downtown to look for her, see if she's just lost."

Nate tries to level out the situation, "Dave, do you know exactly where she was going? Like, what store, what district?"

David looks like he's tripping over his own thoughts. He closes his eyes, saying through gritted teeth, "Macy's, by Union Square."

That's not too bad, I'm thinking. Then I remember Union Square is actually a park. As big as a downtown block, and pretty shady at night. Frankly, it's downtown San Fran--it's not really that safe anytime during the day. I grab David by the shoulder and push him toward the steps, "guys, let's get down there and do what we can. Grab water bottles or blankets and stuff them in a bag. Depending what... well... Nikki may need..."

I don't need to finish my sentence. Since Monday we've heard people speak of the terrors of being hand-cuffed to bed-posts for weeks at a time, laced with drugs enough to sterilize a cow. It only takes about a day or so to get girls addicted to any drug you give them. Nikki's no exception. She's an attractive blonde with a thin frame and long legs. It wouldn't take much of anything to render her senseless. My adrenaline races and I push past them all, yelling at them to go to their rooms and grab something helpful. My yelling causes a couple other doors to open in the upstairs bedrooms.

As I get downstairs, ignoring questions and calls from the others upstairs, I find the Professor waiting by the front door. He stands alone, fidgeting, his cell phone at the ready. In my blurred state of vision right now it looks like he may be packing under his jacket. But for all I know it's just the influx of adrenaline that's causing these visions.

"Asher, hey, are you okay?" He looks concerned.

"Nikki's missing. No I'm not okay. When are the cops getting here?"

"Just a couple minutes."

"We're almost ready to go."

"To go? Asher, you're not going anywhere. The police are just getting a description and a couple photos."

"The hell? Yes, I have to go. David has to go! Mike said they'd take us to help look for her."

"No, not anything like that. We can't get involved."

"Mike wouldn't lie about that, Professor."

"I'm sure he misunderstood or something."

Mike and the others show up behind me.

The Professor turns to him, "Mike, what made you think you all were going with the police?"

"Professor, uh... you said you'd have us ready for them to pick up when they got here."

Everyone looks confused, my heart rate's going insane. Would someone please make a definite statement soon!

The Professor extends his hand, holding an envelope containing a few photos. Outside, we can see red and blue flashes growing brighter. There's no siren, or maybe there is, but I can't focus enough to hear it if it's there. "Mike, I told them I'd have these pictures ready for them to pick up."

Mike and David nearly collapse.

"I'm sorry, but no one here is going with them."

Ernest blurts out, "But Nikki's out there! We don't know if she's okay! Professor, we're the only ones who know anything about her, about the way she walks, what she looks like, what she might be wearing! The cops need us out there! Nikki needs us!"

The Professor's eyes flash with anger and anxiety and in a cold, thinly masked wavering tone, "I know. The cops don't work that way, and we don't have any jurisdiction to see if we could find her in another person's house or business." He pauses and I can see a vein bulging on his neck. "Guys, I need you to help calm everyone else down right now. The cops will do the best they can out there. The law only allows them to conduct searches anyway. We can't break laws trying to find lawbreakers... That's just not how this works."

"That's bull!" Did I really just say that? The skin over my knuckles seems tight and stretched. God, is this really happening?

"Asher, calm down. There's nothing else you can do right now. If any of you want to pray, that would be great, and for those that don't, I need you to stay calm. Nothing can get done without--"

Someone's knocking on the door. The yellow light from the lamps in the room is intermittently over-powered by red and blue hues flashing almost as fast as my pulse.

The Professor walks to the door and opens it with a shaking hand. Two uniformed officers step in. The looks of apathy smeared across their faces disturbs me. You don't know what you're doing, do you? You little pricks can't do anything with that lack of concern! Just give me your damn badge and gun. I'll do your job better.

"Hello Professor, What was Nikki wearing?"

David steps forward, "A green jacket and um... these blue jeans with little swirlies of gold and red or pink or something. Her sister Sandra, she made them for her last year, she..." David drops his eyes, "Take me with you, officers, I can spot her from a mile away."

"I'm afraid we can't do that, sir."

David seems to be convulsing. "She's my best friend. You have to understand."

"There are ways we can and cannot go about things. We can't take you with us. You just have to trust us."

"Find her. Find her, officers." He raises his eyes to meet the taller officer's, catching him off-guard. "Find her tonight, or expect that I'll be joining the search first thing tomorrow."

"You can't do that, sir. That's not in your jurisd--"

"Damnit! Don't tell me what I can and cannot do."

I'm not sure, but I think I could absolutely expect David to take someone's life for Nikki. These cops better know how serious this is to us.

David's not done, "Find her tonight. You don't want to have to deal with all of us if you don't."

I am expecting some sort of confrontation from the cops right now, but for some reason, these two seem to get the point, and instead of anything further said to aggravate David, they simply say:

"Green jacket, blue jeans with colored swirls. We'll do our best."

The Professor closes the door behind them and I ponder how trite and half-ass that statement always sounds: "We'll do our best."

Will you, really? Cause I'm sure I could do better.

I am told to return to my room. I feel a hand on my shoulder. I notice David's as frozen as I am. Someone is trying to urge us both to move and head upstairs. Eventually the hand on my shoulder loosens its grip and I and David are left alone in a silent, tense, pulsating foyer. My ears are throbbing.

The gun I wish I had is quivering in my hand right now, my violence and rage is overpowering and intoxicating...

Find her. Get her here safe. Bring her captors to justice. Or I, and most likely David, will seek revenge. Every one of those creeps deserves a full clip of hot lead in them.

It seems like hours before I release my muscles and try to walk away from the foyer. David is still standing there, motionless, when I close the door to my room. I look at Derek and catch his eye. We don't have to say anything. We're on the same page.

As I lay down and Derek kills the lights, I stare blindly up at the ceiling. Just a few thoughts running through my head:

Find her. Get her to safety. Bring her captors to justice.
Find her.
Save her.
Now.

i am

i am the Black Militant.
i am the Muslim Extremist.
i am the Illegal Alien.
i am the Welfare Slacker.
i am the St. Claire Gang Banger.
i am the South Side Whore.
i am the Tattooed Convict.
i am the Sleazy Pimp.
i am the Drug Dealer.
i am the one you throw your stereotypes on.
i am the minority you want to categorize.
i am the minority you fear.
i am the minority you rule.
i am the minority you monopolize.
i am all of these and none of these.



sadly, i am white.
i am just like you.
i am just like you as any one of these.
i am just like you when not one of these.
you don't see it the right way.
you don't see the similarity in our differences.
all you want is our deference.
because you're in power.

i am Troy Davis.
i am Timothy McVeigh.
i am John Brown.
i am Fred Ahmed Evans.
i am Eric Harris.
i am Dylan Klebold.

and thanks to you, i am out of luck.
and thanks to you, i am forced down.
i am oppressed.
i am where i am.

and i think you know who i blame.

Freedom of Speech... French Style!

when upset about a government policy or action there is but one thing to do to voice your anger:


burn a car.

-/-/---

France, though they are often insulted in ways that would make any national of any such country bristle and buckle, is seemingly a more impressively democratic nation than the United States, or Great Britain.

the French seem to take to the streets at the slightest hint of unfairness within government policies.

but then, who says there's anything slight about racism, unemployment, homelessness, and ghetto-style poverty?



i know why they did it then in 2005.
i know why they continue to fight back.
i know that they are not alone in their anger.

LAISSEZ FAIRE: Dedicated to the uninsured 47 million Americans.

Laissez Faire


generally adored
this system fortunato
rarely abhored
maker of the ghetto

in a country hailed
by three hundred million hearts
covered if failed
with doctored charts

we hide the effects
defy the attacks
coming from rejects
lost with no chance


highest bidder, step up!
fight for your cash
and trample the Gallop
see? ain't no backlash!

we keep 'em down n' broke
what they got to take?
might be the stroke
or backyard snake

build my empire on your back
you slave, slave away for me
i cut your paycheck
damnit, don't cry when you bleed!

you're gonna stain my Persian
walk out of here and stay
i give you compensation
to keep the Wobblies at bay

don't try to organize
put those chains back on!
when you gonna realize
life ain't fair to a peon!


we switch it up now, boss
we take back the mic
you gonna hafta cut your loss
or we goin' on strike!

don't tell us what to do
we know what's ours to claim
and we gonna take it, too!
you didn't listen--damn shame

we want healthcare--swear it!
you've killed too many
we're gonna live--declare it!
no more big money


i'm gonna tell my kids to come
what corporations got wrong
tell 'em what is good n' done
apologize it took so long

you can have your competition
just don't shoot craps with strife
wheel n' deal to bold fruition
but give us liberty n' life!


--

pax.

must be that the world's gone lame.

i found this horrifying article last night after reading 90+ pages from a book i had to read for history class (which ironically ties in because the last two chapters of this book detail the 1899 Newsies strike in New York City, and several subsequent strikes shortly after the turn of the century).

this article, found on my Yahoo! browser as i went to check my e-mail last night right after grabbing some dinner and returning to my room, lit a fire in my idling heart.

i am reading a powerful book written by the honored Dr. King, Why We Can't Wait, in 1963. it has touched something in my warring, violent heart that i thought i had dealt with and reasoned away.

i thought i'd finally come to grips with a philosophy called "Christian Realism", which entails a desire for peace via peaceful methods, but a realisation that there are certain situations in this world, ALL (in my belief) affecting civilian casualties and the defense thereof. it is the belief that Dietrich Bonhoeffer acted justly in his reaction to Hitler's war on the Jews and half the modern world over 60 years ago. Bonhoeffer, a German minister, was in league with a group intent on assassinating the Fuehrer. and on numerous occasions they very nearly did. and as a result many of them, brother Dietrich included, were executed within a narrow margin of War's End in Europe.

so that's where i think i normally am. i spend my time reading the writings of men like Ernesto 'Che' Guevara, Reinhold Niebuhr, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and (most painfully and obviously) my dear brother Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., the one i feel closest to as i read his words or hear his voice.

and, like i said, it is painful to read Martin's words on peace and nonviolent resistance.
it is hard to feel so strongly against oppression and know that there are situations in which i would take up arms to defend the weak, the poor, the oppressed, and frankly any kid who needed help and couldn't get it any other way.

but then, there are situations where nonviolence works to get the point across, if not to completely begin a surge in liberation... though in the case of the US Civil Rights Movement it is often a longer, slower battle to continue to suffer for.

i found a video today that changed my perspective on other social struggles and movements around the world in which nonviolence is used and definitely gets the point across.

EZLN supporters (i.e. the People) storm a military outpost, unarmed. i'm not sure what's going on or what their intent is as they storm in, but it's the coolest thing ever to watch them break the barbed wire fence and march right up into the outpost, forcing the ARMED soldiers back against the walls of the central building.

just watch. there's hope in nonviolence that i didn't know existed beyond these borders.
blows me away!

i lose

one of my favourite games of all time is Risk.
i think i have this vague sense that at some point in history i won that game once.
but as a general rule, i know i always lose.

and yet it is still among my favourites.
while sitting here before church, reading about suffering for the Name (a Name i believe is also so often attributed to true justice and righteous acts for the sake of the people) from the sermon on the mount, and listening to Coldplay's Viva la Vida, it occurred to me exactly why i love that game so much!

i love fighting hard--to the last man--until my imminent defeat against an enemy so big that i know they'll crush me, but until that moment, until that day, I'LL GIVE 'EM HELL!


in that sense it feels like reality, the way i expect my life to play out if God puts me where i think he'll put me--
before an unjust enemy.

write your letters
grit your teeth
say your prayers
lock and load.

routinized, scrutinized, mutinized

two of the title words are not recognized by the google dictionary spellings. they're not usually turned into verbs in this way, they are meant to be nouns and things that just happen without any intent. overtly.

however, i feel like college has begun to routinize me, which is not exactly what i would desire for myself, or for anyone i care about. it strips away my ability to frequently make random calls and break from the "normal". classes are great, as i've already said, but i feel mildly constrained by the routine that these classes are pushing on me.

it makes sense to me then that i scrutinize the system that does this to me. after all, are we not taught to think for ourselves in school? ;) i'm not trying to write this in an annoying way, or a rebellious manner. i say this pretty light-heartedly, but i like to examine the vague irony of it. i am routinized by things that i love, and by someone i love, whose voice every night is so calming and intoxicating that it soothes my mind and body to sleep, even if my heart denies me sleep by pounding fiercely inside my tossing and turning body, until i wrap my arms around my pillow and "pretend i am kissin the lips that i am missin".

that's the kind of routine i used to hate about having a girlfriend, but things have changed since that sort of routine came after getting to know her so much better on a friendship level for nearly two months, spending at least an hour or two in conversation with her nearly every single day, face to face, shopping with her for foods both of us can eat, sodas she'll make me finish after her first sip, and tiny pieces of manufactured and discovered oddities in jewelry stores that accentuate beautiful characteristics of her or of any other soul that dons them.

the routine of her voice every night these past two weeks has been really helpful for me. and really enlightening, as well.

so, due to the scrutiny
i've placed on the layers of routine
that affect my every day's and "some day's"
i have determined that i will break away from all of the unhealthy routines
and focus only on the healthy ones, allowing the rest to fit in place
and my branching out--i'll call it mutiny--
will allow me to make some changes
in the way this world views justice.

i declare mutiny against the harmful status quo.

i may only have a semester here at this particular institution, which means i've got a few months to make a mark and make sure as many in the region as possible, are aware of injustice on a global scale, and have begun to find methods of fighting back.

routine scrutinized produces mutiny.

i like it this way ;)

Darfuri Mercenaries?

as you know if you've read anything on here from last week, i've been coming to terms with a more active (rather than passive/pacifist) idea of justice.

i've been reading authors--trusted men--who wrote of ending violence and oppression with violence.

i've been struggling immensely in the past few years with this and, seeing now that either ideal fails me, i'm falling in line with "christian realism", a concept attributed to a christian ex-pacifist named Reinhold Niebhur.

he reasoned that this is a fallen world, where ideals such as ever-enforced, strict pacifism is no longer a realistic option.

violence should only ever be the last resort, when sanctions and politics and other forms of diplomacy and peaceful campaigns no longer work.

in Darfur, after about 5 YEARS, no such thing as peaceful attempts at change are working anymore.
Blackwater, yes Blackwater, has agreed to step in and train 1000 of the 9000 African Union Peacekeepers already in-country to be a mobile urgent-response force to combat Janjaweed and other factions preying on civilians in the region.

frankly, i never wanted the obstinate President Omar al-Bashir to ever let it get this far, but seeing as how he's not likely to turn himself in to the International Criminal Court and thus stem the onslaught in western Sudan, i am thankful that more immediate action will be taken to protect the civilians of Darfur who've already endured so much loss of life and livelihood.

i know there is much controversy surrounding the exact inner-workings of Blackwater. it's almost intimidating to think of how "organized" they are, according to Marshall Adame's comment.

but to be even more frank, this is likely the lesser of two evils, and i support upgraded protection of civilians whole-heartedly.

unbreakable: three words brought to you by Bruce Willis

i recently watched the film 'Unbreakable' with my mom, sister, and brother, while dad was out of town. i'm talking about the one by M. Night Shyamalan starring Bruce Willis and Samuel L. Jackson.

i was thinking about how Bruce Willis' character, David Dunn, actually does something about the horrible crimes he learns of, and fights back to rescue people and to bring justice.

if we know that something is going wrong, and we know we can keep someone from getting hurt... why don't we?

i could have gone deeper and written more, but i think those three words are all that need saying:

if we can help people, save people, rescue people,

WHY
DON'T
WE?

How to NOT vote pro-life:::

i read this on my friend Kristy's sister-in-law's blog...

http://theheidaway.blogspot.com/2008/05/now-this-just-makes-me-angrydoes-it-not.html

i work at Target, pushing carts. i see a lot of bumper stickers in a given day.

i see this one a lot, surprisingly:

"i vote pro-life". an american flag waves in the background.

this sticker reeks of two things i hate.
1. nationalism (as a Christian recognizing a global family, christian and non-christian, this is elementarily disgusting and elitist as a concept--especially when it provokes war)
2. the term pro-life (which in-and-of-itself should be concerned with ALL HUMAN LIFE. not so, with the republican party, whom i would imagine they are meaning to show support for, by donning this sticker)

"pro-life" should mean what it says, but since there's not one political party (i can find) that dodges nationalism and a pro-death stance... i think it's BS to vote for any single party ALL the TIME!

don't tell me you vote pro-life. we can't vote pro-life. i can't vote pro-life, but i can try to influence senators and representatives and candidates for all positions of power to lean away from killing american babies too, since at least the democrats are less happy about killing Iraqi babies, so far.

i hate double standards.

get angry. tell somebody else. try to change things and REALLY work for a pro-life stance. right now, obviously not enough people are.

and yes, i have every intention of tagging every single person in my friends list. hopefully i'll get a reaction, sisters and brothers.

instead of "voting pro-life", elect to live pro-life!

PAX.

Food Not Bombs

i just called their number that i found listed in a couple places online, and i talked to a very friendly and easy-going Desiree, who's gotten hundreds of calls, probably, as so many people have been looking for FNB apparently.

she took my email and is going to pass along that and my number to people she's in contact with where she's at in Bloomington now.

apparently they're going to be camping out in northern indiana to block the building of a mexico-canada interstate, this May.

i don't know if i can join them, but i'd love to once i learn more about the situation.

basically, this is pretty cool, just thought i'd share it since i feel like i could really get involved in some stuff now!

PAX.

oh the places i'll go!

there's a forlorn city on the Horn of Africa that's been bombed to hell a thousand times over and the people are aching...

i want to go there.

there's an old prison-turned-museum where the photographs of history's victims are fading with age, in Cambodia...

i want to go there.

there's a 5,000-year-old city on the Syrian coastline that's full of old books with words that read from right to left...

i want to go there.

there's a country of real people outside the green-zone, where guns trounce dogs as man's best friend, and war rages...

i want to go there.

there's a world outside my world, beyond my New York Life, that bustles with real human heartbreak and laughter...

i want to BE there.

Adonai, my dad in Heaven, help me be as you.

Waterboarding & Torture: read and tell me you still like Bush

http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20080214/pl_afp/usbushcongressintelligenceveto

i hate this. absolutely HATE it.

it'd be great if we could have someone mature in office sometime soon.

i should shut up now before i say something really bad.

so much for bloody human rights is the grand ol' US of A.

i hate this.

along this track, why don't we just go back to the "good old days (ways)" of breaking the Geneva Conventions and committing war crimes...


execution of a Vietcong soldier; photo taken at exact second of cartridge explosion.

way to go Captain America... you endorsed this.

Mogadishu

"hello, my name is ________________, and i'm a US citizen living in ______________. i'm calling on behalf of a man named ________________ living in Mogadishu, in Somalia, seeking asylum here..."

i called the UNHCR DC Office.

this is how my voicemail started. obviously, for protection all around, things had to be changed here, in this publishing.

the man i mentioned above, a Somali journalist, has been threatened by both sides, for his work with foreign journalists.

one of the journalists he's worked with in the past several months works for a big newspaper based not far from my house. i'm working with both of them, as well as a woman in the 11th District Office in Ohio, working for Representative Stephanie Tubbs-Jones.

hopefully this action will all count for something.

Human Rights in Somalia

i've got a lead. a Somali journalist living in Mogadishu. could be the key i need to unlock a lot of the shrouded stories of Mogadishu's past, present, and future.

pray for me, my sisters and brothers, and pray for my contact. they face danger on a daily basis. several journalists have been killed (often targetted) in the past year, in Mogadishu. just pray.

and act.

politics aside

Post Author: Archer

i read this AP article last night thru Yahoo News:
http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/world/20080130-1256-kenya-ethniccleansing.html

-'12:56 p.m. January 30, 2008
KISUMU, Kenya – The young man hefting a machete at the burning roadblock was frustrated. He'd been looking for five days, but could not find a member of the Kikuyu tribe to kill.
Members of Kenya's biggest tribe have disappeared in their thousands from Kisumu, making it the first – but perhaps not the last – city to be ethnically cleansed.'-

as i said in my last entry, i am no fan of Kibaki, and right now the thought of facing a Kikuyu in the streets terrifies me (and i fear for my dear friend Furaha, a non-Kikuyu Kenyan surviving in Nairobi right now and attempting to find a safe way back to her home in Kakamega, northwest of Kisumu, in western Kenya, not far from Lake Victoria.

i am no fan, indeed, but this is just digusting.

-'“If we find any Kikuyus, we're going to slaughter them or burn them alive,” 19-year-old Daniel Odongo said Wednesday, who wielded the machete...'-

KENYA!!!! shut up and listen! It seems your leaders don't care about you anymore at all, or else the over 800 dead would be enough to get them to sit down and talk. Face to Face.

KENYA!!!! ignore your leaders! let them deal with the politics themselves, but grow up and face your countrymen with love! put down your machetes and torches! let the civilians be civil and the government govern! Damnit, we don't want another Rwanda, or another Darfur, or another Somalia!

KENYA!!!! you used to be the beacon of light in East Africa! what happened?! were these ethnic hatreds too unbearable that suddenly you can't sit down to share the same bowl just because you disagree about who's won the election?!

KENYA!!!! believe me, brothers and sisters--we ALL have our opinions of who really won, and who should be in power and who should not! one of my friends, Doreen, has absolutely no intention of killing our friends Furaha and Patrick just because they voted for Odinga! i just spent five months surrounded by about 15 Kenyans who were divided politically, and there was absolutely no bloodshed!

KENYA!!!! you say you are Christians.... your nation is supposed to be EIGHTY PERCENT CHRISTIAN!!! where is your love, o brothers?!

KENYA!!!! show courage when you're not holding a machete! show courage and strength when called on to remove a roadblock, rather than light a huge tire on fire! show humility and be content with disagreement!


...if you cannot coexist in love and humility, may God have his way with you all, my beloved brothers and sisters.

stop staining your land, o beautiful Kenyans... stop killing your families...

God bring them peace before you bring them judgment. Yet not my will, but yours be done.

--Archer

Kenya: Kikuyu: Kibaki

i'm only a several hours' drive from Nairobi, here, possibly the closest i'll ever be to Kenya's capital in the next several years, sadly.

and everything in Kenya has been pretty much shot to hell.

i've become so absorbed with all the news from Kenya since things started getting fishy only several days after Christmas, with the Election Commission delaying in publishing the winner of the race.

and a couple nights ago i had coffee with John, the base leader here, his wife Jesinta, K-K, Jeff, and Megan. John and his wife are Kenyans, living here in Arusha, running the base. the other four of us are all from the west.

Jesinta left us as the conversation shifted toward politics and the night wore on, for she had children to tend to for bedtime.

a couple other guests had already left, and gone to bed. thus it was only the five of us, with John and i in the thick of it, since i'm the only westerner who's really been following the whole thing.

i found out that Kibaki, the "president" of Kenya (who nearly undoubtedly won by mass rigging of the votes), who has already run the country for 5 years, has nearly backed himself into a corner. i pointed out that i'm surprised no one's assassinated him yet.

John told me that if things keep going the way they are for maybe only another two months, it's not too far-fetched of an idea.

either way, among his options are:
resigning.
going to court.
calling for a re-election which will bring about the first two options, probably, since he'll lose.
or being killed.

brother Kibaki, what have you done?
i do not pity you. i do not sympathize with you at all. if you even still cared about your own people, the Kikuyus, then maybe i'd feel bad for you. but you don't. their deaths and displacement mean nothing to you.

you are my brother, only as long as you remain human. you're nearing that boundary, and i fear you'll cross it, brother.

i cannot wait for justice to be dealt to you and yours.

step down and allow Odinga to save your countrymen.

not good enough. period.

i looked at Amnesty International's page today, and i'm presently sitting in front of a computer screen in Ngaramtoni, about 10 or 15 minutes west of Arusha, Tanzania.

i am reading a report on Mogadishu, Somalia. (which means if i'd hop two borders i'd be there!) it's dated July 22, 2007.

it's the latest report i can find from Amnesty.

i love Amnesty, i'm a member, and have been for almost a year or so. i've worked with them on Darfur, and i hope to continue my work again as soon as i get stateside in ten days.

i love them, but something's wrong if i can't get public access to a report on Somalia's situation that isn't nearly six months old. especially on Somalia, probably the country that would need a "status update" every three or four months. or weeks.

in the "What You Can Do" menu at the top of the page, i am instructed that i have these options:
"Act Locally"
"Take Action Online"
"Activist Toolkit"
"Member Center"
"Join US"
"Donate"
"Shop Amnesty"

that's not good enough. not for me. shouldn't be enough for anyone.
period.

in four years i should be there. i still don't know exactly what group will carry me into the Mogadishu airport, but i'm almost dead certain i'm going.

with all this fire burnin in me, all i can say is:

Lock. And. Load.

why, oh why does the bluebird sing?

if you see a bluebird singing, and you ask him why he is, he ought to have a good reason for stringing together a song.

if he doesn't have a good reason, then you may politely ask him to be quiet.

if he doesn't take a hint, just tell him to shut up and sit down.

if he still doesn't abide... cuff 'im.
and then he'll have to come up with a good defense for court.
....
if you see or hear me making a lot of noise and standing firmly on something, and you ask me why i feel as i do, i ought to have a good reason for roping together my slogans and outcries.

if i don't have a good foundation, then you may politely ask me to be quiet.

hopefully i will.

Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, i kindly request that you challenge me to know why i believe and say the things which i believe and say.

i will tell you i believe in a God of love, because i am in love with him.
i will tell you i believe in a world of suffering, and i probably don't need to point to all the evidence--we see and feel it every day.
i will tell you i believe in justice, because without it, somebody would've already pulled the trigger of the pistol pointed at my head.
i will tell you i believe in Jesus, because without him being a servant would have no rewards--and i would not personally like being on the floor, washing your feet.
i will tell you i believe in evolution, because there's a fossil record to back it up, and such beauty and ingenuity in the designs that span the eras that we would be cheating God to say humanity was the first on his canvas.
i will tell you i believe in a God of love, because we humans have been created in his image, a specific design set apart from everything else on the fossil record--beginning with the Old Man (Adam) and culminating in the New Man (Jesus, Son of David)--that we may have love and compassion for our neighbors (and even our enemies)... that we may grow closer to one another, and, most importantly, to him.

i will tell you this because this is one thing i must stand for, and i beg you never to make me sit down and shut up about.

i would prefer, without a doubt, with every ounce of devotion, humility, and eagerness to be no greater than my master (Matthew 10.24b), that you see that i will not abide, and that you cuff me.

you have no choice...

"...Peter was hurt that Jesus asked the question a third time. He said, "Lord, you know everything. You know that I love you."
Jesus said, "Then feed my sheep. (John 21.17b NLT) Verily, verily, I say unto thee, When thou wast young, thou girdest thyself, and walkedst whither thou wouldest: but when thou shalt be old, thou shalt stretch forth thy hands, and another shall gird thee, and carry thee whither thou wouldest not." (John 21.18 KJV)

...another shall gird me, and carry me whither i wouldest not.

i should tell you...

...that i'm back now. to some that might be exciting, interesting, and jolly news. to others, however, it may be a drawback because Krissi's writings have been so interesting! they'll no doubt continue, but every now and then i'll be chiming in too!

Mwanza was great, but way hotter than Arusha. glad to be back to the city where i can actually sleep with a shirt and pants on inside my sleeping bag!

while there, i fell in love with Somalia.
...i forded a river south of Lake Victoria--barefoot.
...i have washed my hands in Lake Victoria, the day after Christmas.
...i have walked several kilometers barefoot through the fields between Magu and the Lake, with three Maasai warrior friends of mine (who have all killed lions)!
...i have gotten a worm and recovered miraculously in a day (as opposed to the standard week or so it should have taken. (and got to ride on the back of the pastor's motorcycle to and from the hospital! awesomeness!)
...i preached the truth of the grace of Jesus being enough in a society where good works is all that matters.
...i preached the truth that we are still sinners and no better than the non-Christians around us, in a society where distinction between "saved" and "unsaved", and titles like Uingelisti (Evangelist) are status symbols.
...i also started my own "bar ministry" with my friend Jeff across from our open-air meetings, and simply by playing pool with a bunch of the guys every night, i think they saw Jesus' real love for them.
...i was also yelled at by other members of the Church for spending time with the guys at the bar when we did, which makes me wonder if maybe we were really doing something right there!
...and (possibly the best story of all) i have been stung by a scorpion, and lived to tell the tale (even though for the first twenty seconds i thought i was a dead man, and even forgot to pray, as i was so consumed by panic!) thanks to the simple remedy of rubbing graphite into incisions cut around the sting point!

God has been good.

oh yeah, one more thing...
...i've also decided to try to make it two years single, just devoting my attention to God. so, come Christmas eve, 2009, i'll hopefully have grown so close to God that no girl can distract me. and i've also decided the only girl i want is one who brings me closer to God when we talk. i might already know who that is. i'm not sure. i'm praying. maybe she is, too. yeah, she probably is.

God has been good.
and more importantly,
God has been.

and i've come to learn that that's often more than enough!
i've gotta go write a really important letter to that girl i hinted at, above, so i'm gonna leave you with the peace of Christ. and with the grace to know that you're all he wants. not your works, your religion, or your service. no, just simply you.

PAX.
-archer