What can I do: explore

I don't think there is any point in looking at what you can do to fight injustice if you have no desire to fight injustice. I doubt there is much that you can do if you have no knowledge of the issues and no will to see them eradicated. And it's so, incredibly easy to live our lives, our comfortable, secure lives, as if the issues don't exist. 

But they do.

And because they do, I don't think we can afford to let ourselves not care.

I am going to suggest specific ways that we can help, but I'm not going to suggest many, because I think that the way each of us will help will depend on who we are, on our skills, on our opportunities. And from the articles I've read, talks I've listened too, often I'm hearing the message that the traditional ways in which we look to help may not be working as well as we've thought they would. There have been large scale aid projects to set up irrigation in remote villages, but that haven't then been concerned with maintenance so, after a year, the village is back to square one, with no clean water. Or else, projects that haven't looked at the practicalities, for example, an organisation that provided computers to an area that had only sporadic electricity.

I don't want to sound negative, because the negativity is one of the things about these articles that gets to me. What I want to say is that we need new ideas, we need to get creative, we need to think out of the box.

So, instead of suggesting a whole lot of ways to help, I want to bring it back to one thing you can do: you can explore. 

I think that one of the most valuable things that each of us can do is to read about the problems, to talk to other people, to watch TED talks about social injustice, to watch movies or TV programmes that change our perspectives and make us open our eyes.

If we can increase our passion, that is when the ideas will start to flow. 

But it has to start with the passion.

For me, this journey was ignited almost like an explosion when I started reading "Half the Sky", a book written by two New York Times journalists on the greatest moral challenge we face in the twenty-first century. I don't know how to define what it was that lit the match that sparked the fire, all I can say is, read it and maybe you'll find out. 

If you don't want to start with a whole book, just start with the news. This week, in the New Zealand Herald, I read a story about a young girl in Pakistan who was raped and buried alive, only to dig herself out, and the police wanted nothing to do with it! I think I'm more aware of articles like this now, where previously, I probably just skipped over them and read the report on the latest All Blacks game or looked at this week's best and worst dressed. We don't have to look far for these stories, we just have to open our eyes to what is actually right in front of them. 

It seems that TED talks are all the rage now. I've only just started exploring them, but I have found some amazing, inspirational speakers out there, and hey, if reading isn't your thing, try watching instead. Don't know where to start? Here are a few I've discovered recently...

Sunitha Krishnan talks about the fight against sex slavery, having been gang-raped by eight men when she was fifteen.
Sheryl WuDunn, one of the authors of "Half the Sky" tells some of the stories of the women she has met, and where the solutions need to come from.
Kevin Bales talks about combatting modern day slavery. And if you're a more visual person, watch Lisa Kristene's talk, in which she shares photos that she has taken around the world that show slavery as it is happening today. 

So, this week, here's the challenge: watch or read just one of these things with an open mind, letting it lead your thoughts where they want to go. Let yourself be inspired, let yourself be educated. 
Maybe it will be the beginning of a new solution. 

(I'd love to know how you go on this and your thoughts...let me know how the week goes in the comments section here, or on my facebook page :) )

What I can do: Go

I don't believe that there is anything that will stir your heart and build your passion for justice and freedom than looking into the eyes of the oppressed and enslaved.


When I was seventeen, the summer before my last year of school, I went with a team of young people to the Philippines for a month. We were going to work with street kids. And how noble that sounded: heroic with a hint of undercover glamour and romanticism. 


I had images of the photos I would show to people when I returned - photos of myself surrounded by cute Asian kids as I polished my halo. 

I was going to make a difference in the world!

It didn't take me long to realise that the difference was going to be made in me. Driving to Alay Pag-asa, the home for kids rescued from the streets, after a ridiculous number of hours on a plane, the first things I noticed were the noise, the people, the chaos, the smells. Ah, the smells. Most of them, I couldn't identify. Most of them, I didn't want to. 

That month was a struggle.

One day is etched in my mind. It was over ten years ago, but I can play the scene as if I just lived it. I can remember the feelings as if they still have a hold on me.

On that day, that oppressively hot day, we followed our guides, people who worked in the Alay Pag-asa to a place where some of these kids hung out. They explained to us that mostly, these kids had run away from home, away from worse situations. The better option for them was to live on the streets.  

We first stopped in a beautifully air-conditioned mall to buy them food. The place where they hung out was at the back of the mall, beside an abandoned petrol station. As we walked towards it, they saw us coming and, recognising our guide, began to come to us. They seemed to emerge from everywhere: they came over fences, they appeared from behind walls. And just as I was getting my loving missionary face on...it all changed.

These young boys were, I would guess, between 6 and 16 and they were all wearing clothes that had so many holes in them that they may as well have not been wearung them. We noticed that they would keep ducking their heads under their threadbare shirts and as we got closer, we saw that they were sniffing glue. I remember, so clearly, the looks on their faces when their heads popped back up from their shirts vacant, glassy expressions in their eyes, eyes that looked through us rather than at us. Eyes that have no place on a 9 year old's face. 

I knew that I should have felt compassion, I knew that I should have loved them. I knew that's what I was there for. There I was, "working with street kids" and all I wanted to do was get as far away from that place and those kids as I could. I'm not proud of that feeling. And I desperately want to tell you that I overcame it and changed lives that day. But I can't, because, that day... mine was the only life changed. 

I think I have seen a swing in how we think about that kind of overseas trip. At that time, it almost seemed like a fashionable thing to do. But I noticed that, as I went through university, there was almost a feeling that it was just a lot of money that could be better spent on sending to the organisations who were already doing the work, there was a feeling that these trips were just glorified holidays, there was a feeling that maybe the trips didn't even do much to help the locals.

And I don't think that mission should be a selfish thing, but I have seen first hand the ripple effect it can have. It may have taken me years, but when I put myself back in that scene, the feelings I feel now are anger that there are not systems to help those kids, pain at knowing that 8 year olds are addicted to drugs and fire to do something about it. 

I'm not saying that I have done great works since then. What I am saying is...GO. Get on the plane, go to those places, meet those people, smell those smells and feel the pain that they are feeling.               

Because I think that may be one of the best

ways to begin changing the world: 

putting yourself in a position where 

you first allow the world to change you.

What's going on out there?

As I write I'm sitting on my big double bed with the cat asleep on my lap. I've just had a big breakfast of three different types of cereal and some freshly ground coffee. Later, I'm going to take a drive out to the beach, go for a bit of a walk. On Monday, I will go to work, in a good job. I live in a country where there are systems in place that mean I will be looked after if unimaginable things happen. 

Life is comfortable.

I know I can't make generalisations and I don't know the situations facing all of you who read this, but I imagine that most of you are living in similar circumstances. Most of you have a bed to sleep in, most of you had a good breakfast this morning. Most of you are surrounded by stuff: some things that you need, a lot that you don't.

And often, in the midst of that, it's easy to 

forget that there are millions of people 

for whom reality looks very different.

In India, there is Meena, who was kidnapped and taken to a brothel when she was 8. There, she was beaten with sticks and rods and threatened with death if she didn't do what the brothel owners told her. When she escaped and went to the local police station, the police mocked her and sent her away.

In Ethiopia, Woineshet was kidnapped and raped by a man who wanted to marry her. This is common practice in Ethiopia for men who know they will not be accepted by the girl's family or cannot afford the dowry. The rape disgraces the girl, making it unlikely that she will be able to find someone to marry, therefore almost forcing her into a marriage with her rapist. The law says that a rapist cannot be prosecuted if their victim later marries them.

In Congo, the soldiers see it as their right to violate girls. Dina was in her mid teens when she was raped by five men, and then had a stick shoved inside her, causing horrendous internal damage.

In Cameroon, Prudence had no prenatal cate. When she came to give birth, the baby couldn't come out and after three days in labour, her birth assistant sat on her stomach to try to force it out. This caused Prudence's uterus to rupture. She was eventually taken to hospital but her family couldn't afford the price of the emergency caesarean. She and her baby died.

Even as I write these things, the thoughts that enter my mind are along the lines of, "maybe I shouldn't say that, maybe that's too brutal to tell, maybe that will make people uncomfortable", but what I'm realising is that maybe we need to be made uncomfortable. It is too easy for us to switch off, to block those things out because they are not in front of us but we need to know what is going on in the world, this same world that we live in.

Through most of these stories, one of the things that overwhelms and kind of scares me is the lack of help from the authorities. Here, in NZ, I know that if something terrible happens, there are systems of justice, systems that help. But in many of those countries, there is no one. And I think that's one of the reasons it is so vital that we get involved. Someone has to help. Over the next few weeks, I'd like to look at what that looks like. 

For now, if you take nothing else from this, take this: horrendous things happen every day to people who are people, just like us. Those things have to stop and that means that we have to stop ignoring them. 

*Stories taken from 'Half the Sky' by Nicholas D Kristof and Sheryl Wudunn. Read it.

A Reluctant Advocate

Social justice: this is going to sound bad but, for a lot of my life, those words have made my mind switch off. Hearing about the problems of the world has not sparked any interest in me.
I'm not really sure I can explain what has happened, but right now, my mind is very much switched on. 
Maybe it's after seeing 'Mr Pip' this week (great, if horrific movie about the war in Bougainville in the 1990s), maybe after reading 'Half the Sky' (an engrossing book about changing the world), but whatever it is, it's been a week of thinking, wondering, analysing how it's possible not to care about what is going on in the world and my role in it.

I still have a bit to think about and a lot to talk about, so I'm going to take these next few blogs to look into this. If you can relate to what I said about switching off, please stay with me for just a moment. 

I'm coming to see that this is far too important to ignore.

Human trafficking. 
            Child soldiers. 
                           Slavery. 
    Violence against women. 
               Sex-selective abortion.
                                  Honour killing.

...why don't we care?

Here are some of the factors that I think have caused me to push those things to the back of my mind in the past:

RELEVANCE

How does a woman being sold to a brothel in India relate to me and my life? It's so far away and unlikely to ever have any effect on me, so why should I bother? As I write that, it sounds so, incredibly selfish that I hate to admit that I've ever felt like that. But, even if it's a struggle to admit it, is there a chance that it is the most common reason for not caring? It's so much easier to be concerned with your exam results or the fight you had with your friend or your money stresses.
As I walked out of the movies on Tuesday after seeing Mr Pip, after watching a portrayal of the crimes against people, the one thought that I couldn't escape was, "those things happen". Maybe the story wasn't true, but it was based on true events and I guess, was a fairly accurate depiction of what happens in war. THESE THINGS ARE REAL and if that is the case, we need to look beyond ourselves. Your struggles are important, but I would guess that most of you have the support systems to be able to deal with them. That is not the case for most of these people. Who will help if we don't?

POWERLESSNESS

I am one person. I have no special skills. I could have all the passion and drive in the world, but what does it matter if I can't do anything? 

This is something I hope to find more answers for over the coming weeks. Because I think that there is some way in which every person can help. I'll be honest, I'm not completely sure what it is yet, for you or for me, but I want to find it.

I am only one, but still I am one. 

I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; 

and because I cannot do everything, 

I will not refuse to do something that I can do.

Helen Keller 

APATHY

Every time you turn on the news these days, you will see a story about starving children in Africa, or the war in Syria, or terrorists in Afghanistan. So, rather than the issue of knowing nothing about these problems, we often are so bombarded with them that it's easy to say, "just another report on mass murder, just like the one last week." 

We aren't shocked by the images anymore, we don't even see the faces of these people. All we see is a mass of people who look different from us, scenes that could as easily be from the latest block busting movie, situations that we will never find ourselves in.

Maybe it sounds brutal, morbid, but put yourself there. Imagine yourself in that crowd as the bomb goes off, imagine the sound of gunfire, imagine the feeling of having had no food for days. Can you still ignore it?

INADEQUACY

When I've heard people speak about the great things they've done, the money they've raised, the trips they've been on to third world countries, the people they've influenced, I often haven't been inspired. Instead I've thought, "I am not like them, I couldn't do that." And you know what, maybe that's true! 

But just because I can't do what they're doing, doesn't mean I can't do anything. And the fact is that those people, they can't do everything either. 

Maybe they are amazingly talented speakers, but when it comes to organisation, they can barely plan what they're having for lunch. Maybe they have the vision and a plan to end human trafficking but don't have the resources or desire to commit the money to it. Maybe they can stir thousands of people to action, but wouldn't know how to cope if a victim of a land mine was at their feet. Each of us has our own gifts and abilities...each of us must use them.

I hope you'll stick with me as I get into this more, as I look at the need and what I can do and what you can do. If you have questions or thoughts, please let me know. Leave them on my Facebook page and I'll see what I can do!

When the hard words are the best words

Every time I watch the movie 'Taken', there's one scene that really gets me. After proudly telling everyone within earshot that Liam Neeson is from Northern Ireland too, the same thought always strikes me during the kidnapping scene.

Brief  summary of the storyline: Liam Neeson is a 

former CIA agent whose daughter goes to France 

for the holidays. There, she is kidnapped by a group of 

Albanian human traffickers. Liam goes to Paris to find her and, 

using his very particular set of skills, tracks down the kidnappers and...

I won't spoil it all. 

Liam's daughter is on the phone to him when the kidnapping happens. She runs into a bedroom and hides under the bed, terrified. When she tells him what is going on and that her friend has been kidnapped, he tells her simply, "you are going to be taken". When he says those words, I stop for a second and think...woah, woah, woah, um, don't you mean, "it's all going to be ok"? Or "don't worry"? Or even "stay strong, you'll be fine"? 

I want him to reassure her!

I want him to take away her fear! 

I want him to make her feel better! 

And isn't that what we usually all want? Or at least, think we want...for someone to tell us that it's all going to be ok, that our choices are the right ones, that what we're doing is fine. 

But what if those words are not the ones that take us where we need to be? 

What if the ones we need to hear are the hard ones?

If you are about to enter a relationship 

and all around you can see is going to end in hurt, 

what if everyone tells you they're happy for you 

when they can clearly see that you're headed for disaster?

If you're making choices that make you happy 

in the short term but are ultimately going to lead to pain, 

do you want your friends to smile with you in 

your short term happiness or make you confront your long term prospect?

If you're on the other end, in the middle of disaster, 

do you want your friends to give you a token, "don't worry, it'll be fine", 

or would you prefer them to say, "actually, it's going to be hideous, 

it's not going to easy to get out of this, 

but here's what we're going to do about it"?

While Liam's daughter is still on the phone, after telling her that she is going to be taken, he tells her that, as they take her, she needs to yell out all the details about them that she can. These details are the keys in Liam's hunt for the kidnappers, so ultimately, the things that save her.

It's difficult on both sides:

It's difficult to hear the hard words...

...and it's difficult to say the hard words.

But I'm becoming more and more convinced that sometimes 

love means being honest even when it hurts. 

I can recall particular instances when friends have told me to snap out of self-pity, or told me that it's actually not going to be ok and I need to deal with that, or warned me against something that I'm happily falling head over heels into. And in those times, I've been angry, I've looked for reasons not to believe them, I've wondered if they are really friends. But I can tell you, the people in those instances are people whose friendships I now have no doubt of, the ones I want to keep around. 

Truth hurts... but surely there can't be love without truth.