The history really defines the response and the vulnerability of Haiti to the earthquake. One of the most obvious ways it does that is the reason why the people got to the hillsides where they were most vulnerable to the earthquakes. They got there because they or their parents or grandparents were pushed out of Haiti’s countryside, where most Haitians used to live. And they were pushed out of there by policies thirty years ago, when it was decided by the international experts that Haiti’s economic salvation lay in assembly manufacture plants. And in order to advance that, it was decided that Haiti needed to have a captive labor force in the cities. So a whole bunch of aid policies, trade policies and political policies were implemented, designed to move people from the countryside to places like Martissant and the hills – hillsides that we’ve seen in earthquake photos. Full article.
Author: mara.ahmed
Facebook unites a former Guantanamo Bay Guard with Prisoner
This is incredible.
Brandon Neely, a former Guantanomo Prison Guard, decided to join Facebook and upon signing up, begun searching for former army acquaintances. He came upon the profile of Shafiq Rasul, a former prisoner and decided to send him a message. To his astonishment, he received a reply.
The initial message spun into a longer conversation, eventually resulting in a face-to-face meeting. Full article and video.
URGENT APPEAL: Haiti 7.0 Magnitude Earthquake
Haiti, the Western hemisphere’s most destitute country, has just experienced a crippling blow in the form of a 7.0 magnitude earthquake. The earthquake, centered just 10 miles from Port-au-Prince, has devastated sections of the city and knocked out important infrastructure, including telephone communications. It is the worst earthquake in 200+ years in the region. Full article.
Beck – Loser
In the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey
Butane in my veins so I’m out to cut the junkie
With the plastic eyeballs, spray paint the vegetables
Dog food stalls with the beefcake pantyhose
Kill the headlights and put it in neutral
Stock car flamin’ with a loser and the cruise control
Baby’s in Reno with the vitamin D
Got a couple of couches sleep on the love seat
Someone keeps sayin I’m insane to complain
About a shotgun wedding and a stain on my shirt
Don’t believe everything that you breathe
You get a parking violation and a maggot on your sleeve
So shave your face with some mace in the dark
Savin’ all your food stamps and burnin’ down the trailer park
Yo, cut it.
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(Double-barrel buckshot)
Soy un perdidor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
Forces of evil in a bozo nightmare
Banned all the music with a phony gas chamber
‘Cause one’s got a weasel and the other’s got a flag
One’s got on the pole shove the other in a bag
With the rerun shows and the cocaine nose job
The daytime crap of a folksinger slob
He hung himself with a guitar string
Slap the turkey neck and it’s hangin from a pigeon wing
You can’t write if you can’t relate
Trade the cash for the beef for the body for the hate
And my time is a piece of wax, fallin’ on a termite
That’s chokin on the splinters
Guantánamo: Shaker Aamer’s Daughter Delivers Letter to Gordon Brown
Shaker Aamer was cleared for release from Guantánamo by a military review board in 2007. Difficulties securing his release appear to hinge on questions about whether he should be sent back to Saudi Arabia, the country of his birth, or to the UK, where his British wife and four children live, but is also apparent that the US authorities have continued to regard him with suspicion, despite clearing him for release.
This, essentially, is because he has been the most vocal opponent of the human rights abuses inflicted on prisoners in the “War on Terror,” and as I mentioned during a speech outside the US embassy yesterday (report and photos here), I believe that it’s possible that his release in the UK — where he would be able to speak freely, unlike in Saudi Arabia — would be embarrassing for the US government because of his extensive knowledge of the abusive regime at Guantánamo, and embarrassing for the British government, because of his claims (which are making their way through the UK courts) that British agents were complicit in his abuse when he was held in US custody in Afghanistan, before his transfer to Guantánamo. Full article.
Peace and War in Oslo
The president claimed that the United States “has never fought a war against a democracy.” But he failed to mention that CIA operations have subverted democracy and overthrown legitimately elected governments in Iran (1953), Guatemala (1954), Chile (1973) and other countries. Full article.
Pakeeza: CHALTE CHALTE YUNHI KOI MIL GAYA THA
Amy Goodman: Sick With Terror
The media have been swamped with reports about the attempt to blow up Northwest Airlines Flight 253 on Christmas Day. When Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab, now dubbed the “underwear bomber,” failed in his alleged attack, close to 300 people were spared what would have been, most likely, a horrible, violent end. Since that airborne incident, the debates about terrorism and how best to protect the American people have been reignited. Meanwhile, a killer that has stalked the U.S. public, claiming, by recent estimates, 45,000 lives annually—one dead American about every 10 minutes – goes unchecked. That’s 3,750 people dead – more than the 9/11 attacks – every month who could be saved with the stroke of a pen. This killer is the lack of adequate health care in the United States. (Amy Goodman)
Full article here.
HOWARD ZINN: “Holy Wars”
Howard Zinn is an American historian, social critic, and activist. He is best known as author of the best-seller “A People’s History of the United States.” He spoke at Boston University on November 11, on the subject of American “Holy Wars.” Watch here.
UAE ruling family member acquitted in torture trial
A member of Abu Dhabi’s ruling family was found innocent on Sunday of the torture and rape of an Afghan in a case that embarrassed the Gulf Arab emirate and raised questions over human rights. Full article.
The Other Plot to Wreck America – NYTimes.com
What we don’t know will hurt us, and quite possibly on a more devastating scale than any Qaeda attack. Americans must be told the full story of how Wall Street gamed and inflated the housing bubble, made out like bandits, and then left millions of households in ruin. Without that reckoning, there will be no public clamor for serious reform of a financial system that was as cunningly breached as airline security at the Amsterdam airport. And without reform, another massive attack on our economic security is guaranteed. Now that it can count on government bailouts, Wall Street has more incentive than ever to pump up its risks – secure that it can keep the bonanzas while we get stuck with the losses. Full article.
A New Strategy for America
My new strategy begins like the old, with “shock and awe,” but this time let us “saturate” the cities and the villages of Yemen not with explosives and incendiaries, but rather with food, potable water, clothing, medicines and even money. For a change, let our policy be one of supporting life rather than causing death. Phase Two of our offensive will target the cities and villages with payloads of books, tools and building supplies to construct homes, hospitals and schools. For a change, let our policy be one of healing and of construction rather than of causing injury and destruction. Full article.
Thievery Corporation – Lebanese Blonde
The Poetry of Jalaluddin Rumi
The Sufi saint Jalaluddin Rumi (1207-1273) is considered “the supreme genius of Islamic mysticism,” and has been called, “the greatest mystical poet of any age.”
As a young boy he showed all the signs of saintliness and his father called him Maulana, “Our Master.” By age twenty-four he was an acknowledged Master of Arabic grammar, Islamic law, Koranic commentary, astronomy, and Sufi lore.
But it wasn’t until he met his Master, Shams-I Tabriz, at the age of thirty-seven, that he came to experience the highest truth. Many legends surround this meeting, and they all tell of the dramatic destruction of Rumi’s books by Shams, and Rumi’s recognition that book-knowledge could not lead him to the highest truth. Rumi’s son wrote: “After meeting Shams, my father danced all day and sang all night. He had been a scholar – he became a poet. He had been an ascetic – he became drunk with love.”
But the ecstatic unity with his Master soon ended. Two years after meeting Shams – whom Rumi described as “the Beloved clothed in human form” – his Master suddenly disappeared, and was never seen again. Rumi was left with an unspeakable emptiness, and a grief that he tried to fill with singing and dancing.
It was at this time of longing that an endless cascade of poetry began to pour from Rumi’s lips. Thousands of verses flowed out as he called and called to his lost Beloved. In the end, Rumi found that he was calling to himself, that the Beloved he longed for was with him all the time. In one of his quatrains Rumi writes: ‘All my talk was madness, filled with dos and don’ts. For ages I knocked on a door – when it opened I found that I was knocking from the inside!”
(From “The Inner Treasure” by Jonathan Star)
My Worst Habit
My worst habit is I get so tired of winter
I become a torture to those I’m with.
If you’re not here, nothing grows.
I lack clarity. My words
tangle and knot up.
How to cure bad water? Send it back to the river.
How to cure bad habits? Send me back to you.
When water gets caught in habitual whirlpools,
dig a way out through the bottom
to the ocean. There is a secret medicine
given only to those who hurt so hard
they can’t hope.
The hopers would feel slighted if they knew.
Look as long as you can at the friend you love,
no matter whether that friend is moving away from you
or coming back toward you.
Quietness
Inside this new love, die.
Your way begins on the other side.
Become the sky.
Take an axe to the prison wall.
Escape.
Walk out like someone suddenly born into color.
Do it now.
You’re covered with thick cloud.
Slide out the side. Die,
and be quiet. Quietness is the surest sign
that you’ve died.
Your old life was a frantic running
from silence.
The speechless full moon
comes out now.
Love Is the Funeral Pyre
Love is
The funeral pyre
Where I have laid my living body.
All the false notions of myself
That once caused fear, pain,
Have turned to ash
As I neared God.
What has risen
From the tangled web of thought and sinew
Now shines with jubilation
Through the eyes of angels
And screams from the guts of
Infinite existence
Itself.
Love is the funeral pyre
Where the heart must lay
Its body
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
(From “The Essential Rumi” – translations by Coleman Barks, with John Moyne)
“For Mohammed Zeid of Gaza, Age 15” by Naomi Shihab Nye
In Naomi Shihab Nye’s first volume of poems, Different Ways to Pray, she writes, “My grandfather told me I had a choice./Up or down, he said. Up or down./He never mentioned east or west.” A compiling of life’s choices, and the decision to fulfill them all, comprise a sort of ars poetica for Nye. This restless strain, seeking to encompass more than the poet sees around her, runs through Nye’s words and those of her speakers, across continents and generations.
She calls herself a “wandering poet,” and, growing up in St. Louis, Jerusalem and San Antonio, she has spread her own roots wide. Nye writes with a deep affection for people and places, while always remaining conscious of the social, spatial, and personal rifts that tear us apart, and keeping an eye toward the volcano in whose shadow we all live, telling it soothingly, “We would be happy if you slept forever.” William Stafford has said that Nye’s poems “combine transcendent liveliness and sparkle along with warmth and human insight,” while the The Grand Rapids Press adds, “When she exhales, the world becomes different. Better.” (the poetry center, smith college)
For Mohammed Zeid of Gaza, Age 15
by Naomi Shihab Nye
There is no stray bullet, sirs.
No bullet like a worried cat
crouching under a bush,
no half-hairless puppy bullet
dodging midnight streets.
The bullet could not be a pecan
plunking the tin roof,
not hardly, no fluff of pollen
on October’s breath,
no humble pebble at our feet.
So don’t gentle it, please.
We live among stray thoughts,
tasks abandoned midstream.
Our fickle hearts are fat
with stray devotions, we feel at home
among bits and pieces,
all the wandering ways of words.
But this bullet had no innocence, did not
wish anyone well, you can’t tell us otherwise
by naming it mildly, this bullet was never the friend
of life, should not be granted immunity
by soft saying—friendly fire, straying death-eye,
why have we given the wrong weight to what we do?
Mohammed, Mohammed, deserves the truth.
This bullet had no secret happy hopes,
it was not singing to itself with eyes closed
under the bridge.
From You and Yours (CBOA Editions, 2005)
