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.

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.

~a poli sci major~

that's what i am.
and i'm proud of it
excited for it
intoxicated by it

never thought i'd see the day where i'd love class ha!
not when i was in seventh grade, no way, man!

but here i am, loving all my classes!

it's strange, but totally cool!

you know it's a good class when you're unable to sit still, leaning forward too eagerly, laughing too much, and smiling like an idiot. normally those would all be signs of lunacy. or, perhaps, even now they are! either way, i've really enjoyed my four classes so far!

Chinese 101: Introduction to Chinese
Political Science 130: American Government
Political Science 280: Comparative Political Systems
History 202: American History 1877-Present

this morning, sitting in my Pols 130 class, i couldn't help but feel a lot like i do when i listen to Coldplay's 'Viva la Vida'! yesterday afternoon, for class, i read the Declaration of Independence and was struck by the similarities of all the things Jefferson indicated warranting a revolt, and all the things that've pissed me off about the Bush administration.

the problem is that there's not enough to engage the masses in such a movement against the standing government. the Declaration even outlines the need and permissions for "abolishing" the government if "abuses" continue. Jefferson also makes allowance for the larger portion of the colonists being willing to "suffer, as long as evils are sufferable" and to feel no larger reason to take action and declare a new Rule.

at this point, in all fairness, what i perceive to be evils in the current government's way of handling things, are not entirely insufferable. i recognize that there is little that can be done at this point, save from joining movements that wage a more figurative war, fought by the People and for the People, in the modes of the common People.

armed struggle is not even yet a remote option. there's not yet any need. as long as there is any semblance of democratic form in the government that stands in reign today, there is certainly apt opportunity to change for the better, to sacrifice the goods of the few for the good of the many.

i am not opposed to armed struggle under duress, in such a situation as it becomes the unavoidable last straw.

UPRISING, the film:

the Jews are being marched out of the ghetto for the express purpose of being carted out to the concentration camps and extermination camps.

a covert handful of the Jews is armed.

as they turn a corner and the column of Nazi troops is no longer connected in a direct line, madness and chaos interrupt the stoic march as this collective of citizen-soldiers opens fire on the soldiers that would coral them to their deaths.

one bullet, one Nazi.

in this firefight there is an open for hope to eek into the darkness of the ghetto.

the Nazis take a surprisingly long time to deal with the uprising, and by the time everything is dealt with, entire companies of soldiers have been exhausted against less than 50 untrained, passionate rebels.

it's in this saga of struggle and sweat and blood that some of the Jews make it to freedom via the sewers. in this saga justice is the victor.

...

i am a political science major, hell-bent on bringing heaven to earth, even if for a fleeting moment, in the lives of the oppressed.

i don't want enemies, but it comes with the territory.

it's the kind of life and future that i must lay everything else down for, and it is so incredibly exciting to be getting more and more involved with other people who are willing to fight and die for such a beautiful cause as justice, for such a sacredness as Shalom.

i'm going deeper.
the oxygen down here is sparse
many will fall back before the end
many will faint
and before i can even get there
many will be lost

but i will not stop.
as long as there is injustice in the world, the Christian's work is not finished.
the Disciple of a Just God must learn to love Justice... and to love it so much that the thirst for it burns in their throat in the most difficult of global regions, while they know that there will be no way to quench such a divine thirst without expending oneself completely in the struggle for truth and beauty and justice.

let it be a final song, perfectly in tune with God's greatest masterpiece!

Shalom, sisters and brothers.

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.

not the norm.

i am going to break a lot of rules by writing what i will write next.

if you have a weak stomach, are patriotic, or know anyone who'd be offended by condemnation of particular US soldiers, or would be offended by an affront to the American psyche of super-importance... then stop reading this entry.

---

i first read a story of a woman named Maria Osman, a Mogadishu resident, about two weeks ago. Yahoo News journalist Kevin Sites has been touring the world's conflict zones for about a year. he stopped in Mogadishu and met a woman named Maria.

her arm is useless. rendered so by the bullet wound that she earned for trying to reach the crushed body of her dead young daughter... under US Black Hawk helicopter Super Six One. When the first Black Hawk went down on October 3, 1993, it would herald the end for 18 American soldiers.

and the same fate came to roughly 600 to 1,000 Somalis.

we glorify the black hawks.


and we ignore Maria Osman's story.


the film makes no mention of the girl crushed by Super Six One.

' "I hate the Americans," she says, her eyes maintaining their empty sadness rather than shifting to anger. "I hate them for what happened to my daughter. If I saw one I would cut them up into so many pieces." ' -Kevin Sites quoting Maria Osman

if you think this is wrong, i agree with you. i think hate is a horrible thing, but i can see where it comes from.
but apparently she's not the only one guilty of this.

"An anonymous man wearing a US Special Forces T-shirt is a war criminal, if his three-minute YouTube interview is to be believed. In it, he claims to have taken part in routine torture of Iraqis — Hajji’s in soldier slang — in the infamous Abu Ghraib prison..." -Captain Eric May, on Soldier X's Youtube interview (i won't put the link to it, but search "soldier x interview" if you absolutely don't believe me in any other way. but please, don't view it unless you're completely ready to hear what he has to say, while smiling)


last month i joined the All Somali Forum. i wrote a blog on there about the war crimes of the Transitional Federal Government in Somalia, and when someone read it, they posted a comment asking me if i am anti-TFG.

i told them that i am, for the time being, since they are committing war crimes and getting away with it. i am against any war criminal. frankly, as you can guess, that does mean tat my enemies include many americans. by far, hopefully not a majority, but definitely more than i'd normally think.

there are always people against people. but if it's going to go that way, it should only be the armed against the armed. civilians should never be targets. and there is such a thing as War Law. so if you're going to lose your head, at least do it by the rules.