Traviesa

We adopted a sweet black doggie from El Salvador. She was truly the cutest. She was blind, but we didn't care. She was ours. As she got older, her behaviors got more and more strange. She became aggressive, growling and showing her teeth at odd moments. We got a "slip leash" and confined her to the kitchen. "She's just a teenager," we thought.

One MRI later, we learned that she had severe hydrocephalus. As in, she only had a brain stem and a cerebellum - the rest was fluid. It was devastating. You can give dogs with hydrocephalus steroids for the swelling, but it won't bring their brain back.

We made the hard decision to put her to sleep. We watched as the injection went in, and the life slowly slipped out of her. I don't think I've ever cried so hard in my life! It was also the most peaceful death I could have imagined.

We loved that dog so much. But it was more than just a dog... she was like our first "child". I will be forever grateful for her, because she taught us that we could be caregivers. We worked as a team to take care of a complicated case, and we did everything we possibly could for the little pup.

The beautiful part of this story, the part I will remember most, is how kind all of our 'health care providers' were. From the dog trainer (Claire), to the vet (Dr. Meade) and her vet tech (Paisley), to the behavioral specialist (Dr. Orlando - who helped us get funds for the MRI!) to the neurology vet (Dr. Sampson). They were all part of our journey, and honestly... they had much better bedside manner than any medical doctor I have known.

Health care professionals don't realize what a difference they make. At our most vulnerable, we so need genuine, kind practitioners. This is something to remember as I go 'deeper' into learning mental health care as a social worker.

I am in grief, grief for my life in El Salvador, for my life in Minnesota, for my life in college, for my life in Ireland... Grief for all the relationships I built with all those wonderful people. I miss it, I want to go back...And then I think of all these amazing experiences I've had and I think, "What am I complaining about?"

Gratefulness is the heart of it all. That maybe there is no end point, no mountaintop. Just keep climbing, and enjoy the view.

"It is good to have an end to journey towards, but it is the journey that matters in the end."   -Ursula LeGuin

Thank you, Travi, for the journey. You were a little monster crazy dog, and we loved you. 

Sindicato

Like most North Carolinians I did not know much about unions. In fact, I thought that N.C. was a "non-union" state. Not true - workers here do have the right to organize. North Carolina is, however, a "right-to-work" state, which means that workers have a choice as to whether or not they want to join a union.

Today, I went to support the union movement in Mountaire Chicken Plant in Lumber Bridge, North Carolina. Home to over 2,000 workers, Mountaire workers earn low wages and work long hours. Over 6 months ago, a local union filed unfair labor charges against the Mountaire plant for : "disciplining employees for their union activity, threatening to have employees arrested, engaging in surveillance and coercion, interrogating employees, threatening termination and change in personal working conditions if employees support the union." 

Today while in Eastern NC we visited the pork plant Smithfield Foods, in Tarheel, NC. They do have a union, and while it is still a difficult line of work they have organized and it has made a difference in both worker pay and conditions. The workers there get paid $13.50 and up, depending on their job.

In contrast, Mountaire workers who work through a temp agency make only $8.25 an hour, and do not receive days off. The plant's workers are 50% African American,  30% Latino, 15% Haitian, and 5% other. According to national union organizers, there is a lot of discrimination especially against Haitians. This might include allowing others to take bathroom breaks before them, etc.

The Mountaire plant has a strong "anti-union" campaign. They allegedly have a sign inside the plant that says "we don't need a union - we're a family".

The UFCW (United Food and Commercial Workers) says that, ideally,  they need at least 65% of the union cards to be signed. They only need 30% to conduct elections (run by the government). However, it can take up to 45 days for the government to 'organize' the election, which means that the company has plenty of time to change the workers' minds.

In order to win, they'll need 50% plus one vote. Let us hope for that one vote.

Here's to Mountaire, to people everywhere who work hard in factories to make sure our meat gets to our table. Thank you for the food. Amen.

El Enojo y la Culpa

I have to admit something. And it's something I wouldn't normally admit, but because I am in social work school and social justice class I think... it's time to get real.

I feel guilty.

There, I said it. I feel like I pulled the trigger. 

I have not acknowledged Michael Brown and the shooting in Ferguson. Sure, I talked about it with my husband and my parents... we agreed that it is awful. That it's so sad that racial profiling still exists in America. I haven't spoken to my friends about it, nor Facebook. I haven't signed any petitions or taken any action.

So, perhaps I am not the oppressor. But by allowing racial violence to happen and not even whisper, "no!" am I actually approving Michael Brown's death? And what about Trayvon? And all the thousands before him? What about the thousands of black people that were lynched right here in North Carolina not so long ago? Why are we, as a people, not FURIOUS?

It breaks my heart. That so many have died. That I have no idea what it's like to be a minority in America. That peace has not yet come. 

Silence may be okay for some people. But I do not intend to live my life asleep to the injustices in our world. Nor do I intend to be a "coffee shop anarchist", who perhaps is awake but frozen in their own fear. You're going to hear me roar.

In high school, I was an activist. I knew in my heart that I could stop the Iraq War, with the help of the other members of the protest movement. I started an organization at my school, I traveled to Washington D.C. The day the war started, I lost something. Hope. It has taken me a long time to get that back. 

When we admit defeat, we are allowing the system (corporate America, our government, greed) to continue feeding the injustices. They continue to grow, to take new forms.

Activism is anger, made into positive action. Social justice is not a quick fix. It is a conversation. Let's talk about it.

A Cherokee elder was teaching his grandchildren about life.

He said to them, “A fight is going on inside me… it is a terrible fight between two wolves. One wolf represents fear, anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, hatefulness, and lies. The other stands for joy, peace, love, hope, humbleness, kindness, friendship, generosity, faith, and truth. This same fight is going on inside of you, and inside every other person, too.”

The children thought about it for a minute. 

Then one child asked his grandfather,

“Which wolf will win?”

The Cherokee elder replied…

“The one you feed.”

Campesinos Alimentan el Mundo

Today is Labor Day in the United States. We all like to get the day off, and grill out with our friends. But what is Labor Day, really?

As journalist James Warren wrote in this article in the New York Daily News, it is "the day to celebrate the American worker and his sacrifices and economic and social achievements". Oooh. Now that sounds a little more interesting. According to Warren, it all started in 1894 when Pullman railroad workers had a walkout against unfair wages and poor living conditions. Federal marshals and the Army killed 30 of them. This event led to the government proclaiming an Annual Labor Day, to honor the American worker.

I began my internship at Student Action with Farmworkers. I have to say it is one of the most unique organizations I have ever learned about. Its mission is to bring students and farmworkers together to learn about each other's lives, share resources and skills, improve conditions for farmworkers, and build diverse conditions working for social change. It is a true social justice organization - I am so excited to be a part of it!

So today on Labor Day, I invite you to consider the American worker. How can you even begin to describe them? Black, white, Indian, Asian, Latino... the list goes on and on. We are a diverse workforce. And we have a long way to go before everyone receives a fair wage and safe working conditions.

Farmworkers are paid as little as 40 cents for a bucket of tomatoes they picked. Minimum wage laws only apply to workers on large farms (how is that fair?) The Fair Labor Standards Act does not provide overtime for farmworkers. The legal age for a farmworker is 12, not 16 like other jobs. (Source: United States Farmworker Fact Sheet)

Farmworker conditions are still very similar to slavery. They share rooms and substandard houses with many other workers. Many do not have transportation to leave the property. Only 10% of farmworkers have reported that their employer provides insurance. They are exposed on a daily basis to pesticides, which puts them at risk for toxic chemical injuries. 

Immigration to the United States increased greatly in 1994, when NAFTA (the North Atlantic Free Trade Agreement) was signed and over 2 million Mexican farmworkers were driven out of business. This article offers an upsetting list of all the damage NAFTA has done, both in the loss of jobs in the U.S. and Mexico.

...It's interesting with farmers markets on every corner, and everyone talking about local food and concern for their diet... Very few people are talking about farmworker rights. I like this SAF fellow's take on it all. It takes a village. On this Labor Day and all days, may we take the time to educate ourselves, and may we begin and continue to take action. 

"In this day-to-day struggle, it sometimes feels like we are spinning our wheels in deep mud. So this is what I’ve really learned this summer: it takes a village. It takes Araceli and Selena lobbying in Raleigh to protect the legal rights so easily stripped from farmworkers. It takes Jessie in South Carolina helping migrant children stay in school. It takes Ramon working with Legal Aid to make sure human rights are not violated in the farmworking community. And it takes me, in Burgaw, working with one patient at a time to make sure those who produce our food stay healthy. It takes a village for this movement, no one person or organization in this fight can stand alone, and together we can move towards real, evident change. Adelante juntos, hasta la victoria!"

-Miranda Schartz, SAF Fellow

"Every time we sit at a table to enjoy the fruits and grain and vegetables from our good earth, remember that they come from the work of men and women and children who have been exploited for generations" 

-Cesar Chavez, co-founder of United Farm Workers

Noventa Mil

What does it mean to be grateful?

Being a white woman in middle class America, I will never fully comprehend how lucky I am and how easy my life is. The restaurants that I eat at, the trips that I take, the ease of going back to school and finding a job and buying the things I need when I need them. The luxury of being able to go out at night, and to feel safe in my own home.

Then I think of all the children that have crossed the U.S. border illegally, sent by their families in hopes of having a better life. Most years about 20,000 children attempt to enter the country illegally, this year we are likely to reach 90,000. 

The young people and families I know that have attempted crossing the border have done so for two primary reasons: 1) Their mother or father lives in the United States and they want to be together 2) They have been threatened by a gang, or may be in the future.

In the 1980's the United States began supporting the El Salvadoran government in the civil war, by training the soldiers in violent war tactics and providing thousands of weapons. Unfortunately, the weapons are still around as is the culture of violence. Many El Salvadoran men sought refuge in the United States during the war, and became involved in gangs out of Los Angeles. These Los Angeles gang members continue to be deported back to El Salvador every day, where the gang population continues to grow.

So I consider, if I had a son who was asked to join a gang in El Salvador, what would I do? If he says no, they will most likely kill him. If he says yes, he will most likely be killed in gang violence. If I send him to the United States to cross the border illegally, he will struggle. But - he may make it. He could survive. But, immigrating illegally to the United States is usually a permanent move - I may never see him again.

A mother's love for her child. That is why there are so many children arriving every day to the "frontera" in hopes of a better life.

People sometimes say "protect our freedom". I'm not sure what freedom is. I do know about safety. I am grateful for safety. To be able to walk through the streets, without fear. 

Someone recently asked me why immigrants can't use the $5,000-$10,000 that they normally pay a coyote and instead fly to the United States and just stay there. The U.S. has made it very difficult to travel from Central America legally. There is a $200 charge to apply for the visa, and then you may get an interview. Almost all the people I know in El Salvador have been denied a travel visa to the United States. They look for financial stability (a regular, larger paycheck) and that you have a family in El Salvador to come back to. 

Planes from El Salvador to the United States are filled with elderly grandmothers, from my experience. I suppose by that age the U.S. embassy just says, "go ahead and go" since they are not physically able to work. They may be seeing their children for the first time in 30 years. Many families may never see each other again, maintaining a relationship over the phone with their parents for the rest of their lives.

I guess what I'm saying is, count your blessings. Whether near or far, it's good to know that you will see your loved ones again. Tell the people you love that you love them.

Berrinche

It's easy to live life in a state of constant tantrum. I don't want this - I want that! I don't want to leave - so I'll just stay! My life is horrible - everyone else is happy!

When the tantrum is over, how do we pick ourselves off the ground, and move on?

This summer, I am nannying for a 5 year old with autism named Jack. He delights in the smallest things. We saw a butterfly on a flower, and he said, "Jenna! The butterfly's saying hello to me!" We saw a flower that needed water and he asked with great concern, "Jenna, is the flower sad?" He also notices things other kids wouldn't, like me missing my turn while driving- "Jenna! I want to go HOME!" or that my coffee cup is in the car from the previous day - "Jenna, is your coffee yucky and old?"

Jack has a hard time leaving things he enjoys. We make regular trips to the museum, a magical place with lemurs and trains and paper airplanes. The last time we went, I gave him warnings: 20 minutes, 15, 10 and 5. Still, at the "times up, let's go home" moment, he sat down and wouldn't move. 

His tantrums are not the yelling type. He just sits there, like he's gone into a catatonic state and physically cannot move nor hear me. 

At least 5 minutes went by. Finally he looked up at me: "I want to ride the elevator, he said". So, we rode the elevator up and down. He proceeded to sit down in the elevator. I held the door open. It began to beep its scary, emergency beep. It was time to move.

"Ok Jenna, let's go," he said. And we ran through the weather exhibits and the building blocks, and made it finally to the car. I was frustrated - what did I do wrong? I wanted him to have a good time and then immediately be ready to go.

Perhaps all Jack needed was a little time. At the end, he didn't hold on to his anger. He left with joy, ready for the next adventure.

And so am I.

"You do not need to know precisely what is happening, or exactly where it is all going. What you need is to recognize the possibilities and challenges offered by the present moment, and to embrace them with faith, courage and hope."

-Thomas Merton

Adios

It has been over a month since we left El Salvador, and so much has changed. We live again in a world of carpeting and air conditioning, cars and credit cards. I cling to the internet like a blanket, as if it's going to keep me safe. There are things I like about all this. But it feels lonely.

Goodbyes are never easy. At the end of the party, you have to pry yourself from the people you love, get on the plane, car or bus and physically leave. The rest of the goodbye comes later, in the reflection and slow passing of time. It feels violent and sudden, no matter how much you prepare for it. Saying goodbye to a community of people you have come to love. 

We have done this twice recently, once in 2012 leaving Minneapolis, and again in 2014 leaving El Salvador. I feel homesick for both places and all the people too. 

I am not a "better person" for volunteering for 2 years in another country. I don't believe God works on a points system. I have been enriched and filled with gratitude for the experiences that I had and the opportunity I had to share my gifts. In two years I taught: poetry, photography, skateboarding (supervised), choir, music education, music therapy, beginning English, intermediate English, English conversation class, computer skills, drama club (Snow White), preschool camps, and yoga. An incredible smorgasboard of experiences and adventures. I taught in a rural community (La Mora) once a week, and they accepted me with open arms. My dear friend Rina fed me lunch every Wednesday, shared her sweet daughters with me, her stories and her friendship.

I miss my weekly English lunches with Karilyn, my walks down to the lake with Wendy. My English class made up of young adults who truly wanted to learn. We laughed so much. My yoga classes taught in the open air surrounded by the Centro Arte garden. I miss the food... chicken, rice, beans for breakfast, licuados, pupusas... I miss walking by the school and the children yelling "Senorita Jenna!!" 

They knew me. I knew them. Community.

What will stay with me through all these memories?

The relationships. The smiles on the children's faces, the thoughtful gifts and cards that came from people that have so little, the feeling I had when I was singing with them. "You are the best teacher I have ever had," one of the cards said.

Did I really have to leave? 

Here I am, nannying for a wonderful family who can afford a nanny. Taking a class on nonprofit management 2 nights a week. Driving my car. Buying cleaning supplies. Listening to ads about laser hair removal on the radio. 

Letting go.