2000

by Staff Writer

As a poor people led/indigenous people led organization we are extremely worried about the thrival and survival of our brothers and sisters in South Africa, Samoa, The Philippines, Malaysia, amd beyond.

The loss/decrease of land, water, air and other dire impacts of Global Climate Change on poor communities of color is one of the most important issues we are concerned with as indigenous peoples in relationship with Mama earth and each other.

Many of our local indigenous staff writers and scholars have family members struggling in Samoa and the Philippines therefore we are gathering contributions and working with local grassroots folks to support their relief efforts.

To help Samoan folks POOR Magazine is collecting donations to give to a local Samoan congregation (Assemblies of God where one of staff writers is a member-) Please send your donations to POOR Magazine and make them in care of "Samoan relief" at 2940 16th street #301 San Francisco, Ca 94103

To Help Filipino folks - please donate to one of the following locations listed above. For more information go on-line to www.sfchrp.org

by Marlon Crump, QUeennandi, RAM /PNN

I am tired of being a slave. A slave that has to work with a broken body that’s sacrificed

Just to put food on the table.

A slave who had to lay to rest a demised family, disrespected by tha world

Gone forever without justice.

I am tired of being a slave to the kourt Sssystem, where my terrible cries for help falls upon deaf ears

Life tampered with and tortured before leaving out, laughed at and ridiculed.

As my rights are stripped from me easily, like a loose fitting garment.

If I can’t protect myself and my family, WHAT AM I? WHO AM I? Nothing but a empty shell existing for profit, robbed of something that takes a LIFETIME to restore-


MY WOMANHOOD!


Don’t I sound like a female slave, captured centuries ago??? And they said HERSTORY doesn’t repeat itself…

I am tired of being a slave, who at 7 months pregnant was beaten by officers Miller and Shea…

If there were no witnesses, I’d be dead in my grave.

IS THIS THE LAND THAT THE LORD HAVE MADE?

Shot dead was my unarmed neighbor just the other day. Now Oscar Grant lies beside him in a King’s marked grave…

But… ALL THE UNJUST SPIRITS SHALL RISE!!! To tell their stories through US!

POSSESS MY VESSEL!!! I am tired of being a slave… I just want to be!!!


QUEENNANDI09- ALL POWER!!!

by Bruce Allison/PNN

After getting the fifth degree from a security guard who wanted to know
more about me then my own parents, I got approved to go into 1095
market street. A seven story building with only six or seven companies
in it. (also the site of POOR's previous office where we were unceremoniously gentrified out of!

I walked into environmental action non-profit, Green Actions’ headquarters for an interview with POOR Magazine family friend and long-time Bayview activist and power-house Marie Harrison. I sat down
while she had lunch, we had a half hour interview about Lennar, the
nuclear dumpsite, and biohazards all of which are located in Hunter’s
Point. The area where Lennar Corporation are planning to build low income housing
has been capped five times due to toxic and nuclear leakage.

As my interviewee explains “Newsom and his Auntie gave Lennar a 3 million dollar
loan” and magically Newsom’s brother in law got a job in Lennar’s
executive ranks. This area is so toxic that the Navy has lost all
records of how much has been dumped there. It goes back to WW2 when
Fat man and little boy were assembled there, and parts which weren’t
used were dumped into the water. Letterman Hospital in the Presidio
has records of animal parts being dumped there after experiments.
According to my host she mentions that pockets of retardation in the
hunter’s point area has been high for that community. A fire started
at a former hunting lodge that the SFFD was told not to put out, for
unknown reasons. My host also informed me “Us poor people have no
place to live because of Lennar”.

This area historically was a mixed use area through WW2, you had a
Japanese fishing colony and a hunting lodge in Hunter’s Point. During
WW2 a building was there for working people, which is presently the
ghetto, this building was for shipyard workers and their families
originally and was to be torn down at the end of the war. Now it’s the
Evan’s Street/Candlestick projects, this building was only meant to
last until the end of the war.

Also, the politicians that are involved in this fiasco goes as far as
Barbara Boxer, Dianne Feinstein, and Nancy Pelosi on the Federal
level. On the state level there is a friend of mine called Mark Leno
who I didn’t think would be so mean and Fiona Ma who is not a friend
of any poor person. On the city level those who are responsible are
Willie Brown former mayor and Gavin Newsom. Sophie Maxwell will get touchy if you mention the name
Lennar.

The housing set aside for the people who paid money for it will be 3 ten story towers that will be put in hunter’s point
where presently low income people are living. For the working people fifty percent of the area medium
income is $100,000 for family of three. The majority of these people
have already been moved across the bay to Oakland or other places
outside of San Francisco. This makes San Francisco have the lowest
population of families that live in a major metropolitan area.

From a sixth generation native of this city and an elder, my city has
been robbed and raped by many corporations and agencies, Lennar and the San Francisco redevelopment commission as their partner in
crime. The redevelopment commission is the back door the mayor uses to
do this dirty work without leaving his fingerprints on it.

by Hans Bennett/reprinted from Upsidedown.org

In her new book Blood & Capital: The Paramilitarization of Colombia, author Jasmin Hristov writes: For roughly forty years, the Colombian state has been playing a double game: prohibiting the formation of paramilitary groups with one law and facilitating their existence with another; condemning their barbarities and at the same time assisting their operations; promising to bring perpetrators of crime to justice, while opening the door to perpetual immunity; convicting them of narco-trafficking, yet profiting from their drug deals; announcing to the world the government's persecution of paramilitary organizations, even though in reality these illegal armed groups have been carrying out the dirty work unseemly for a state that claims to be democratic and worthy of billions of dollars in US military aid.

As the largest recipient of US military aid in the hemisphere, Colombia has long been the US's most important ally in Latin America. Simultaneously, Colombia has also become the hemispheres worst human rights violator, with Colombia's numerous paramilitary organizations recently taking center stage, as they've gradually become directly responsible for more human rights atrocities than the formal military and police. In the name of fighting narco-terrorism, poor people and dissidents are massacred, assassinated, tortured, and disappeared, among other atrocities done to eliminate particular individuals and to set an example by intimidating others in the community. 97 percent of human rights abuses remain unpunished.

In recent years, a variety of human rights organizations, as well as mainstream academics and journalists have found it impossible to ignore the astronomical human rights violations. However, even though these groups have accurately reported on the actual atrocities, Jasmin Hristov argues that in their reports, the atrocities are largely de-contextualized from the powerful forces in Colombia and the US that directly benefit from this repression. According to Hristov, this mainstream presentation serves to mask the fact that US and Colombian elites directly support (via funding, training, supervising, and providing legal immunity for) state repression carried out by the police and military, as well as illegal paramilitary groups that are unofficially sanctioned by the government. Whether it is murdering labor organizers or displacing an indigenous community because a US corporation wants to drill for oil on their land, Hristov passionately asserts that death squad violence is purposefully directed towards sectors of society that stand in the way of the ruling class efforts to maintain economic dominance and acquire more resources to make even more profit.

In her book, Hristov does make a convincing argument that Colombias notorious death squads are inherently linked to maintenance of the countrys extreme economic inequality. Particularly since the neoliberal reforms of the 1990s that have increased poverty, Colombias poor continue to resist their oppression in many different ways. In response, state repression on a variety of levels is needed to terrorize unarmed social movements and other community groups and activists.

Throughout Blood & Capital, Hristov seeks to expose the rational motivations behind state violence for capitalisms economic elites in the US and Colombia. In meticulous detail, Hristov shows how the super-rich benefit from state repression and how the violators of human rights have essentially become immune from any consequences for their actions. If death squads are truly to be abolished in Colombia, we must look honestly at how and why they exist today. Hristovs new book is a powerful tool for exposing who truly calls the shots.

Neoliberalism or Neopoverty?

Hristov asserts that it is not a mere coincidence that during the era of accelerated neoliberal restructuring, the deterioration in the living conditions of the working majority has been accompanied by an increase in the capabilities and activities of military, police, and paramilitary groups, as well as the portrayal of social movements as forces that must be monitored, silenced, and eventually dismantled. The scandalous epidemic of poverty in Colombia is key to understanding Colombian politics, and why the upper classes so fear political organizing among the poor, who could mount a formidable opposition to the status quo if allowed to organize unrestrained by state repression.

When neoliberal policies were adopted by the Colombian government in the 1990s, it dramatically increased poverty, and made an already terrible situation worse. Hristov writes that the essential components of neo-liberalism are trade liberalization, privatization, deregulation, and austerity. Trade liberalization entails the removal of any trade barriers, such as tariffs and quotas. Privatization requires the sale of public enterprises and assets to private owners. Through the removal of government restrictions and interventions on capital, deregulation allows market forces to act as a self-regulating mechanism Austerity requires the drastic reduction or elimination of expenditures for social programs and services.

She argues that the main cause that led to the official adoption of neoliberal policies by the developing countries in Latin America and elsewhere was the pressure to service their external debts in the late 1970s. In order to receive loans from the World Bank (WB), or the International Monetary Fund (IMF), nations had to agree to a program of structural adjustment that included drastically reducing public spending in health, education, and welfare, and much more.

Because Colombia had less debt than other Latin American countries, major neoliberal restructuring did not begin until 1990, under President Cesar Gaviria Trujillo (1990-94), when the country began to receive massive amounts of US military aid In addition to the significant social damage wrought by these policies, by the mid-1990s Colombia had to almost double its borrowing from the IMF because of the economic crisis brought on by the market liberalization, writes Hristov.

These drastic reforms have intensified since current President Alvaro Uribe came to power in 2002. After the IMF loaned $2.1 billion in 2003 on the condition that the reforms be accelerated, Uribe privatized one of the countrys largest banks (BANCAFE), restructured the pension program, and reduced the number of public-sector workers in order to cut budget deficits, as required by the international lending institution. Uribe also closed down some of the countrys biggest public hospitals, eliminating over four thousand medical jobs, and denationalized companies in the telecommunications, oil, and mining sectors, reports Hristov.

These are a few of the statistics compiled by Hristov, who writes that in a country of 45 million, around 11 million people are unable to afford even one nutritious meal a day. According to statistics from 2005, 65 percent of Colombians are unable to regularly satisfy basic subsistence needs. In rural areas, the poverty rate is as high as 85 percent In 2000 it was estimated that half a million children suffer from malnutrition and close to 2.5 million children between the ages of six and seventeen are forced to work. Furthermore, there has been a notable decline in school attendance, literacy, and life expectancy as well as access to child care and education over the past couple of years.

Blood, Capital, and the State Coercive Apparatus

Throughout Blood & Capital, Hristov details many horrifying ways in which the rich are empowered by violence from what she identifies as the states coercive apparatus (SCA). She argues that two intertwining motifs run throughout Colombias history: (1) social relations marked by inequality, exploitation, and exclusion and (2) violence employed by those with economic and political power over the working majority and the poor in order to acquire control over resources, forcibly recruit labor, and suppress or eliminate dissent.

Dating back to the European conquest of the Americas, Hristov asserts that violence has been central to the creation of modern-day Colombias government and economy. She writes that starting in the late 1500s, the conquerors began clearing the indigenous population from territories with desirable characteristics mineral deposits, fertile soil, access to water, transportation routes, and so on. The separation of the indigenous from their means of subsistence allowed the formation of a local colonial elite who transformed what used to be the native inhabitants communal lands into large estates or haciendas. The creation of landless peasants facilitated the supply of labor for the Spaniards ventures, such as mining and agriculture.

State violence supporting the economic elite continued, but became much worse in the 1960s under the direction of the US military. Alfredo Vasquez Carrizosa, President of the Colombian Permanent Committee for Human Rights reports that in the 1960s, during the Kennedy administration, the US took great pains to transform our regular armies into counterinsurgency brigades, accepting the new strategy of the death squads. This ushered in what is known in Latin America as the National Security Doctrine not defense against an external enemy, but a way to make the military establishment the masters of the game the right to combat the internal enemy this could mean anyone, including human rights activists such as myself.

As Edward Herman, co-author of The Washington Connection and Third World Fascism explained in a previous interview with Upside Down World, US support for repressive governments in Colombia and throughout Latin America was, and still is, part of a general policy towards third world populations. Focusing largely on US support for the Latin American National Security States, Herman and co-author Noam Chomsky argue that U.S. corporations purposefully support (and in many instances create) fascist terror states in order to create a favorable investment climate. In exchange for a cut of the action, local military police-states brutally repress their population when it attempts to assert basic human rights.

In the 1960s, the US and Colombian governments launched Plan Lazo, designed to target the internal enemy. Hristov writes that the military aid that was part of Plan Lazo (and all subsequent programs, including those in place today, such as the Patriot Plan) were given on the condition that Colombian forces would use terror and violence, since these formed a legitimate part of the overall anticommunist offensive. In 1966 the field manual US Army Counterinsurgency Forces specified that while antiguerrilla should not employ mass terror, selective terror against civilians was acceptable and was justified as a necessary response to the alleged terrorism committed by rebel forces.

Hristov asserts that while the US handled the financial and ideological aspects of building and strengthening the SCA, locally the Colombian elites also played a key role. It implemented many of the policies suggested by the US counterinsurgency manual in order to discipline the civilian population through measures such as press censorship, the suspension of civil rights (to permit arrest on mere suspicion), and the forced relocation of entire villages. President Guillermo Leon Valencia (1962-66) boosted the anticommunist campaign by declaring a state of siege whereby judicial and political powers were transferred to the military while the latter was freed from accountability to civilian authorities for its conduct.

With US financing and supervision, the Colombian armed forces have since become one of the most renowned human rights violators in the world. This despicable conduct eventually created significant local and international opposition, and under this pressure the SCA has been forced to adjust. In response, the responsibility for repression has shifted more towards paramilitaries, whose activities are officially independent of the government. In this situation, when paramilitaries target the internal enemy, the same goal is accomplished as if the government itself did it, yet the government cannot be officially linked to the violence.

The Paramilitarization of Colombia

The size and strength of paramilitary death squads in Colombia has steadily increased since they were first established in the 1960s. According to Hristov, the paramilitaries are now responsible for about 80 percent of human rights violations in Colombia, compared to 16 percent by the rebel guerrillas. The paramilitaries evolution, Hristov argues, is the result of perhaps the most creative and intelligent effort by an elite-dominated state to counteract revolutionary processes The Colombian parastatal system represents neither a traditional centralized authoritarian regime, as those that existed in Argentina, Chile, and Brazil, nor merely a collection of autonomous armed bands dispersed over rural areas, each ruling locally, as in Mexico. What we see in Colombia is a mutated SCA that has assumed a nonstate appearance.

The function of the paramilitaries in Colombia was explained well by Captain Gilberto Cardenas, former captain of the national police and former director of the Judicial Police Investigative and Intelligence Unit in the Uraba region. In 2002, testifying against the commander of the Seventeenth Brigade of the Colombian armed forces, Cardenas told representatives of the United Nations and Colombian authorities that The paramilitaries were created by the Colombian government itself to do the dirty work, in other words, in order to kill all individuals who, according to the state and the police, are guerrillas. But in order to do that, the [the government] had to create illegal groups so that no one would suspect the government of Colombia and its military forces members of the army and the police even patrol side by side with the paramilitaries.

The paramilitary system first began in the mid-1960s when the Colombian government passed legislation that authorized citizens to carry arms and assist the military in repression. Hristov argues that paramilitary forces entered the scene to perform two main functions. The first was to participate in combat at a local level, as described by the 1966 US Army Counterinsurgency Forces field manual, which stated: paramilitary units can support the national army in the conduct of counterinsurgency operations when the latter are being conducted in their own province or political subdivision. Second, Hristov writes that paramilitaries were intended to monitor and gather intelligence on the rebels, their civilian supporters, and social organizations by establishing networks throughout the country.

While these early paramilitaries did play some role in state repression, it would not be until the 1980s that they really began to increase in size and influence. Hristov writes that the 1980s were the golden age of paramilitary development, as many new groups formed, expanded, and rapidly acquired financial and military strength...This second wave of creation enacted by large-scale landowners, cattle ranchers, mining entrepreneurs (particularly those in the emerald business) and narco-lords took place in a particular context, characterized by five main features: a shift in the states (unofficial) policy toward the partial privatization of coercion; the states fusion with the elite; a legal framework that had set the ground for the design, training, equipping, and administration by the state military of armed bodies outside its institution; a prevailing anticommunist ideology; and militarized patches of the country that served as models to emulate.

This second wave was given another boost in 1994 with the creation of the Community Rural Surveillance Associations (CONVIVIR) by current President Alvaro Uribe Velez, who was the governor of the department of Antioquia at that time. Hristov writes that Uribe made CONVIVIR into a replica of the original paramilitary bodies designed in the 1960s. As it had thirty years ago, now the civilian counterpart of the SCA was to take on a central role in the Dirty War under a legal mantle. By the time CONVIVIR was outlawed, in 1999, most of the numerous paramilitary self defense bodies had united, attaining an organizational and military capacity unsurpassed by paramilitary forces in any other Latin American country.

In August, 1998, just before the legislation supporting CONVIVIR was abolished, hundreds of members publicly announced that they would be joining the AUC paramilitary network, which became the most prominent paramilitary network in Colombia. The AUC had been created in 1997, mostly under the leadership of Carlos Castano and his paramilitary group, the ACCU, which became the largest group in the AUC federation. Others that operated in this loose confederation of paramilitary groups included Bloque Cacique Nutibara, the Bloque Central Bolivar, and the Bloque de Magdalena Medio.

Following official peace negotiations between the AUC and the Colombian government which began in 2002 with an official AUC ceasefire agreement, the AUC officially disbanded in February 2006, as part of an overall public disarmament of many paramilitaries throughout Colombia. However Hristov argues that there are many factors challenging the legitimacy of the peace process. First, during the entire period of the cease-fire announced by the AUC, its groups regularly engaged in military actions against civilians, thereby committing human rights violations (and such activities continue to take place). Second, often those who claimed to be demobilizing were not the real paramilitary combatants but hired criminals, or drug dealers who had bought the AUC franchise. Third, large quantities of arms that should have been turned over were not. Fourth, fighters who are officially considered demobilized are in reality already active militarily in new organizations, where their skills of terrorizing the civilian population for economic gains are necessary and valued.

Since 2006, there have been several government initiatives that give the formal appearance of the Colombian government working to combat paramilitaries. Hristov explains that early in 2007 the Supreme Court began investigating numerous connections between paramilitaries and important state actors, such as senators, representatives, deputies, councilors, and mayors. As time went by, the public learned of more and more cases in which the legal (state officials with their political authority and legitimacy) and the illegal (paramilitary groups with their economic and military power) had entered into alliances to advance their mutual interests. Through mid-2008, 38 percent of members of Congress have been implicated in this parapolitica scandal.

While Hristov recognizes some importance in these recent investigations, she feels that their real impact has been extremely limited. She argues that despite all the cases that have been exposed, parapolitica is not likely to be eradicated from the Colombian political system. On the contrary, the flood of revelations about politicians connections to the paramilitary actually allows serious crimes, such as complicity in massacres, to get buried under waves of minor offenses, and eventually the entire issue becomes just another corruption scandal.

In their 2009 report on Colombia, Human Rights Watch concluded that there are many threats to accountability for paramilitaries accomplices, reporting that the Uribe administration has repeatedly taken actions that could sabotage the investigations. Administration officials have issued public personal attacks on the Supreme Court and its members, in some cases making accusations that have turned out to be baseless, in what increasingly looks like a campaign to discredit the court. In mid-2008 the administration proposed a series of constitutional amendments that would have removed what are known as the parapolitics investigations from the Supreme Court's jurisdiction, but it withdrew the proposal in November. The administration also blocked what is known as the empty chair bill, which would have reformed the Congress to sanction parties that had backed politicians linked to paramilitaries.

Hristov concludes that the centrality of paramilitaries to Colombian politics will not be disappearing anytime soon, mostly because repression has been necessary to enforce the countrys stark social/political/economic injustice. Hristov argues that the paramilitaries have become an essential tool of repression, and because Colombias poor majority will continue to resist this outrageous poverty, the paramilitaries repression will continue. Seen in this context, the recent demobilization process is only a tactical restructuring of paramilitaries and the SCA, similar to their restructurings in the 1980s and 1990s. Hristov sees this restructuring as an adaptation response to assure its future survival in the face of the reality of resistance and opposition by numerous sectors of society against further dispossession, with the states ultimate goal being the institutionalization of paramilitarism and the legalization of capital accumulation through violence.

War on Narco-terrorists?

Since the official end of the Cold War in 1989, US rhetorical justification for allying itself with and providing military aid to the Colombian government has shifted from fighting communism to fighting narco-terrorism. Hristov argues that official rhetoric may have changed but its still easy to expose this fraudulent war on narco-terrorism as actually being a war against poor people. Concerning the so-called war on terrorism, how can the hemispheres worst human rights violator fight terrorism? Then, similar to the absurd notion of a terrorist fighting terrorism, how can a government heavily complicit in the drug trade claim that it is fighting a war on drugs?

The Colombian government's multi-faceted complicity in drug trafficking extends all the way to current President Uribe, who was listed by the Pentagon itself, as one of the most wanted international drug traffickers. A declassified National Security Archives report dated September 23, 1991, explicitly accused Uribe of being a collaborator of the Medellin cartel and a personal friend of Pablo Escobar. This report states further that Uribe was one of the more important Colombian narco-terrorists contracted by the Colombian narcotics cartels for security, transportation, distribution, collection, and enforcement of narcotics operations in both the US and Colombia. These individuals are also contracted as HIT MEN to assassinate individuals targeted by the extraditables, or individual narcotic leaders, and to perform terrorist acts against Colombian officials, other government officials, law enforcement agencies, and groups of other political persuasions.

It's not just the Colombian government! Hristov argues that the US government's Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) has in reality been converted largely to an instrument of drug traffickers and paramilitaries. To support this assertion, she cites a 2004 memorandum issued by a lawyer at the US Department of Justice named Thomas M. Kent, which accused the DEA of extreme misconduct. Kent states that strong evidence of misconduct is routinely ignored by the control agencies of the Department of Justice. Hristov summarizes key points made in Kent's memorandum, including to supplement their $7,000 monthly salary, some DEA agents have managed to negotiate with Colombian drug dealers .DEA personnel have been implicated in the killing of informants. Members of the AUC [paramilitaries] have been assisted by DEA agents in money laundering. DEA agents have participated in the extortion of drug traffickers awaiting extradition.

On another note, Hristov makes the important point that drug trafficking and the rise of paramilitaries have both fed each other in two key ways. First, the groups involved in trafficking needed to protect their laboratories, illegal cultivation, and clandestine airstrips in rural areas stimulated the emergence of local armed groups outside the state. Second, many drug dealers had begun to invest their capital in millions of hectares of the best agricultural land in the country and they needed armed forces to protect their lands. Hristov adds further that the preexisting concentration of land ownership in the hands of the elite and the displacement of impoverished peasants was aggravated dramatically by this trend.

To further expose this fraudulent war on drugs, it should be noted that the US government has a long history of complicity in drug trafficking, particularly in Latin America. While author William Blum has written the definitive short article on the topic, Alfred McCoy has written the most comprehensive book, titled The Politics of Heroin, documenting the CIA's relationships with drug traffickers around the world, including in France, Italy, China, Laos, Afghanistan, Haiti, and throughout Latin America. In 1989, a Senatorial Committee chaired by Senator John Kerry documented that during the 1980s, while working with the anti-Sandinista Contras, the CIA and other branches of the US government were complicit in trafficking cocaine into the US from Latin America. The Kerry Committee concluded a three year investigation by stating in their report that there was substantial evidence of drug smuggling through the war zones on the part of individual Contras, Contra suppliers, Contra pilots, mercenaries who worked with the Contras, and Contra supporters throughout the region. US officials involved in Central America failed to address the drug issue for fear of jeopardizing the war efforts against Nicaragua. In each case, one or another agency of the US government had information regarding the involvement either while it was occurring, or immediately thereafter.

The Kerry Committee's report and the story behind it has been analyzed well by authors Peter Dale Scott and Jonathan Marshall in their book Cocaine Politics. In 1996, investigative journalist Gary Webb wrote a series of articles for the San Jose Mercury News (later expanded and made into a book in 1999) which directly tied Contra cocaine traffickers Danilo Blandon and Norwin Meneses (both protected by the US government) to Los Angeles drug kingpin Freeway Rick Ross, who played a key role in starting the crack-cocaine epidemic of the 1980s. The mainstream media launched a smear campaign attacking Webb's story that eventually caused even the Mercury News to denounce Webb. However, several prominent journalists came to Webb's defense and challenged the mainstream media's smear campaign, including Norman Solomon, Robert Parry, and Counterpunch co-editors Alexander Cockburn and Jeffrey St. Clair.

Unmasking The Unholy Alliance

The relationship between the US and Colombian elite is truly an unholy alliance. With US President Barack Obama praising the Colombian government and attempting to build several new military bases in Colombia, it is more important than ever to expose the truth about who supports death squads and why. Hopefully Blood & Capital will receive the attention that it deserves, and Hristov's meticulous research can be used to truly disarm the state coercive apparatus in Colombia.

--Hans Bennett is an independent multi-media journalist whose website is
www.insubordination.blogspot.com. This article was first published at
www.UpsideDownWorld.org on September 3, 2009.

by Picture the Homeless

by Staff Writer

La siguiente historia de "Chispita" es un extracto de las muchas historias de viaje de gran alcance incluido en Los Viajes - una antologia literaria de la resistencia

The following story of "Chispita" is an excerpt from the many powerful journey stories included in Los Viajes - a literary anthology of resistance

For English Scroll Down

De Oaxaca, Mexico....
por Chispita

Aqui estoy. Sentada en todo lo que tengo, una banca publica, viendo a mi nino Jesus con lagrimas en sus ojos. Le duele mucho, se puede ver. Sus ojitos me miran pidiendo ayuda, trato con todo mi ser no mostrar en la cara desesperacion, y me es imposible evitar que las lagrimas rueden por mis mejillas tan abundantes como cascadas. Yo volteo hacia arriba por ayuda, y veo que los pasillos se hacen interminables, las bancas crecen al tamano de paredes, y las luces fluorescentes casi me ciegan. Oigo los pasos de miles de gente, siento el temblor de las turbinas, y miro las caras de todas estas personas. Todos contentos, se van de vacaciones, o quizas visitar a su familia. Todos arrastran equipaje y saben para donde van. Todos menos yo.

"Ma, Ma"

"No llores Chui, ya casi vienen por nosotros."

�Donde estaran? Ya son cuatro horas y todavia no llegan. Chui esta muy grave y necesitamos ayuda. Veo sus ojos y hay tanto dolor. Que hago? Han pasado horas desde que comimos algo pero ya se me acabo la lana. �Que hago? Duermete Chui, duermete.

Nunca habia pensado que un aeropuerto en Tijuana me pudiera dar tanta angustia. Mi nieto y yo estamos a miles de millas de casa y ya solo queda continuar con nuestro viaje, pero mi cuerpo se estremece al momento de pensar que no vamos a sobrevivir. Mi Chui ya estaba enfermo cuando nos subieron al avion para aca, y su condicion solo empeora. Ya le llame a mi contacto que nos dijo que pronto nos iban a recoger, pero eso hace cinco horas. Quizas aqui nos vamos a quedar toda la noche, en el aeropuerto de Tijuana

"Senora.Senora. Despierte Senora."

"�Si?"

"�Eres, Chispita?"

"Si"

"Finalmente llegaron! Chui despiertate. Subimos a un van y nos llevaron a una casa cerca de la frontera. En pocas horas se llevarian a Chui que estaba aun mas palido para cruzar en coche. Ha llegado la hora de despedirnos. Me duele muchisimo que se lleven a mi nieto, pero si se queda aqui, en esta casa conmigo de seguro se morira. Chui no queria irse, y mucho menos despedirse de mi. Sus ojitos nublados me miraban y lloraban. Nos abrasamos fuerte y yo le prometi que pronto nos volveriamos a ver, y tambien veria a su mama. El abrio sus brazos y me abrazo una ultima vez. Lo metieron a un coche y se fueron. Su manita y su rostro no dejo de voltear hasta que desaparecio en la carreteara.

En ese momento, parada alli en esa calle, todas mis preocupaciones y miedos se manifestaron en mi cuerpo en un rio de lagrimas. Llore y llore hasta que la duena de la casa salio y me abrazo. Me dijo que Chui estaria bien. Su nombre era Amalia, y estaba enferma. Me dijo que para ella que estaba enferma y mayor, ya no habia esperanza, pero en el caso de Chui, me dijo que el esta enfermo y es un nino, por lo menos tiene la esperanza de sobrevivir por estar joven y su cuerpo resistira mas. Amalia tenia un tumor en su estomago y sufria de depresion.

La Noche De Fiesta

Despues de una semana de que se llevaron a Chui, Amalia me dio un regalo de sorpresa, un vestido de fiesta. Primero, no supe porque me habia regalado un vestido de fiesta y casi me olvido dar gracias, casi.

"Muchas Gracias por el vestido Amalia, pero, �cuando me voy a vestir tan bonita? �A caso vamos a ir a una fiesta?"

"Es tu vestido de despedida... y de entrada."

"Despedida y entrada? como?"

"Bueno, te despides de mi, y entras a los Estados Unidos para reunirte con Chui."

"No entiendo. Quiero ver a mi Chui y me encanta el vestido, pero no veo como este vestido me va llevar cerca a mi Chui."

"Manana, te van a venir a recoger unos compas mios. Todos van a estar vestidos para una fiesta. Van a llegar a la frontera, y van a caminar sobre el puente hacia una fiesta en los Estados Unos. Asi de facil."

Se oia tan facil. Simplemente voy a ir a la frontera, caminar sobre el puente, sonreir al agente de migracion, y cruzar como que si fuera ciudadana. Se oia tan facil, pero esta nueva situacion me provocaba movimientos en el estomago y un virtigo en la cabeza. Llego la noche y el coche de fiesta me esperaba.

"No te preocupes nina, vas a cruzar, y vas a estar cerca de Chui otra vez."

"Gracias Amalia, por todo. Que Dios te lo page, y nunca te voy a olvidar."

Amalia me acompano al coche, nos despedimos, y nunca la volvi a ver. En el coche habia un silencio incomodo flotando entre los dos hombres, la mujer que estaba a la par mia. Yo se que sabian que yo era la mas nerviosa del grupo. Se acerco la mujer. "No se preocupe senora, nosotros estamos en mas peligro que usted. Jure no hacer esto nunca pero su nino me conmovio y deseo que pronto este con el. Esa enfermedad si es curable. Dios le va ayudar."

Llegamos a la frontera en lo que se sintio un viaje de dos minutos. No se si la casa de Amalia estaba tan cerca o mi sentido del tiempo se habia ido con mi mente, pero llegamos a la frontera y todas las luces, los coches, los retenes, y el puente me recordio en mi estomago que yo no estaba lista. Corri al bano para vomitar pero no salia nada. Esperaba que si me salia el vomito, me iba a sentir mejor, pero no paso asi. Intente e intente a vomitar, y no salia nada mas saliva y cada vez que intentaba me senti aun mas mareada. La ultima vez que trate de vomitar, ya ni sentia que estaba parada en piso fijo, sentia como que estaba flotando sin control en un mar tormentoso de todas mis preocupaciones y temor. En medio de esta tormenta oi que entro alguien al bano. Era la mujer.

"�Que pasa Gloria? Todos te estamos esperando. Mira, no te preocupes, hay tanta gente pasando ahorita y a ninguno de ellos los pararon. No mas tienes que pensar y creer que vas a una fiesta. Ponte en ambiente de fiesta y no te van a parar. Encomiendate a Dios... Pero si te detienen, no nos conocemos, solo regrasate y lo volvemos a intentar."

Sali del bano con la mujer, era tanto mi panico, que no recuerdo su nombre. Pero sus palabras me ayudaron bastante. Me concentre en lo que tendria que hacer para estar junto a Chui. Tendria que actuar como una dama de fiesta que la unica preocupacion en su mente es verse bella, y divertirse. Tendria que actuar como que las ultimas semanas de mi vida incluyendo esta noche, casi no me matan. Tendria que actuar como si no tuviera un nieto enfermo que dependia de mi al otro lado de esta frontera. Tendria que actuar como si no fuera yo.

No se cuanto tiempo me tarde en ese bano porque mi realidad en esos momentos fue como que si estuviera mirando una pelicula de suspenso, en la cual yo era la artista. Antes de salir del bano, si recuerdo pidiendole a Dios que me ayudara en ese momento.

Sali del bano con una sonrisa y con un paso que casi bailaba. Yo iba a una fiesta y estaba muy emocionada. Pase cerca del grupo y casi no me reconocian hasta que logre ver la mujer y en sus ojos esos destellos de bondad que siempre nos damos las mujeres, "gracias," le dije y continue actuando. Caminamos en el puente hacia las oficinas de inmigracion riendonos y gozandonos. Llegamos hasta adonde paran a las personas, y les piden sus identificaciones. Recuerdo que cinco pasos antes de llegar a ese poste adonde estaba el agente de inmigracion, mi risa se paro.

Empece a pensar en Chui, y sabia que si yo no tenia exito al cruzar esta noche, estaria solo con esos tremendos dolores. Senti que me desmayaba al pensar que me detendrian. Uno de los hombres del grupo me vio que caminaba mas lenta y con la cabeza abajo. Estaba a dos pasos del poste. El tiempo se congelo, y voltio a ver el hombre. Su sonrisa me recordo que ibamos a una fiesta. Vi que ya habian pasado la mujer y el otro hombre ahorra solo faltabamos nosotros. Un paso del poste. El hombre a la par mia, dijo algo para llamar a sus compas, pero solo se rieron y continuaron caminando. El se rio, y finalmente estabamos en frente del poste. El tiempo se congelo otra vez. El agente nos dio una mirada de pies a cabeza. Yo trate de sonreir... y no desmayarme. Muchos sentimientos se revolvian en mi cerebro y la tierra de oportunidad para todos, para mi era la oportunidad de apoyar a Chui, y proveerle la atencion medica que el necesitaba.

Volvi al poste. Mire hacia el agente, y no sabia si todavia me estaba sonriendo. Los ojos del agente miraban hacia atras de nosotros. Voltee a ver. Era un grupo grande, y se miraban borrachos. Los ojos helados de ese agente me miraban una vez mas. Sin quitar la mirada nos dio una sena con su mano, una sena que nos comunico que continuemos. El tiempo se congelo una vez mas. Este momento de mi vida nunca lo voy a olvidar. Lo hice. Si que continue a caminar, pero no sentia mis pies. No sentia mi cuerpo. Solo sentia mi alma saltando en mi corazon, y sali en mi cuerpo en forma de lagrimas.

No me recuerdo mucho mas de esa noche. Pero ahora que me recuerdo, si era una noche de fiesta, para mi. Mi alma gozaba que pronto estaria apoyando a Chui. Mi alma gozaba ya en este pais, tendria la oportunidad de seguir luchando para mantener a Chui sano. Mi alma gozaba porque esa noche en la frontera de Tijuana, tuve la fuerza de sobrevivir, y es con esa misma fuerza que hasta hoy he sobrevivido en este pais.

Ingles Sigue

Here I am. Sitting on all I have, a public bench, watching my child Jesus with tears in his eyes. It hurts him a lot, it shows. His little eyes stare at me asking for help. I try with all my being to not show desperation on my face, and it is impossible for me to avoid the tears that roll down my cheeks as abundantly as cascades. I turn my head upwards seeking help, and I notice how the hallways become indeterminable, the benches grow the size of walls, and the florescent lights almost blind me, I hear the footsteps of thousands of people, I feel the tremor of the turbines, and I stare at faces of all of those people. All of them happy, they are going on vacations, or maybe to visit their family. They all drag their luggage and they know where they are going. Everyone except for me.

"Ma, Ma"

"Don not cry Chui, they are almost here for us."

Where can they be? It has been almost four hours and they still do not arrive. Chui is in very critical condition and we need help. I see his eyes and there is so much pain. What can I do? Hours have passed since we last had something to eat but I have run out of cash. What can I do? "Sleep Chui, sleep." Never did I think that an airport in Tijuana could ever give me such anguish. My grandson and I are thousands of miles from home and continuing our journey is the only thing that is left, but my body shakes at the moment when I consider that we might not make it. My Chui was already very ill when they put us on the plane headed here, and his condition only worsens. I already called my contact that told me that they would soon be here to pick us up, but that was five hours ago. Perhaps we will stay here the whole night, in the airport of Tijuana.

"Senora. Senora. Wake up Senora."

"Yes"

Are you Chispita?

"Yes"

Finally! They arrived! "Wake up Chui." We get in a van and they took us to a house near the border. In a few hours they would take Chui, who looked even paler, so that he can cross by car. The time had come for us to say goodbye. It hurts me so much when they take my grandson, but I know that if he stayed with me in this house he will surely die.

Chui did not want to go, and much less say goodbye to me. His blurry eyes stared at me and cried. We hugged tightly and I promised him that we would see each other again, and that he would also see his mom. He opened his arms and gave me one last hug.

They put him in a car and they left. His little hand and face did not stop turning towards me until they disappeared on the highway. In that moment, standing there on that road, all of my worries and fears manifested themselves in my body as a river of tears. I cried and I cried until the owner of the house came out and gave me a hug. She told me that Chui would be ok. Her name was Amalia, and she was ill. She told me that since she was an elder and ill, there was no hope for her, but in Chui's case, well he is sick, but he is a child, at least he has the hope of surviving because he is young and his body will resist more. Amalia had a tumor is her stomach and suffered from depression.

The Night of the Party

After the week that Chui was taken, Amalia gave me a surprise gift, a party dress. At first I did not know why she had given me a surprise gift, and I almost forgot to give her thanks, almost.

"Thank you very much for the dress Amalia, but when am I going to get dressed up so pretty? Or are we actually going to a party?"

"It is your dress of farewell, and of entry."

"Farewell and entry? How?"

"Well, you will say farewell to me and enter the United States to reunite with Chui."

"I do not understand, I want to see my Chui and I love the dress, but I do not see how this dress can help me get close to my Chui."

"Tomorrow several friends of mine will come to pick you up. All of them will be dressed for a party. They will arrive to the border, and they will walk along the bridge to a party in the U.S... It is as easy as that."

It sounded so easy. I will simply cross the border, walk along the bridge, smile to the immigration agent, and cross as if I was a citizen. It sounded so easy, but this new situation provoked movement in my stomach and a vertigo in my head. The following day, night time came and the party car was waiting for me.

"Do not worry girl, you will cross and you will be close to Chui once again."

"Thank you again for everything Amelia. May God repay you, I will never forget you."

In the car there was an uncomfortable silence floating amongst the two men, the woman was on my side. I knew that they knew that I was the most nervous one of the group. The woman came close.

"Do not worry senora, we are even in more danger tan you are. I swore to never do this, but the situation your child has moved me and I wish that you will soon be with him. That sickness is curable. God will help you."

We reached the border in what seemed a two minute trip. I do not know if Amalia's home is really that close or if my sense of time has left along with my mind, but we arrived to at the border and all of the lights, the cars, the check points, and the bridge reminded me in my stomach that I was not ready. I ran to the bathroom to throw up but nothing came out. I was waiting for the vomit to come out, I would feel better then, but it did not turn out that way. I tried and tried to throw up and nothing but saliva would come out and I felt even dizzier. The last time I tried to vomit, I did not even feel that I was stepping on the firm ground, I felt as if I was floating without control, in a tumultuous ocean of all my worries and fears. In between all this torment I heard that someone came into the bathroom. It was the woman.

"What is going on Gloria? Everyone is waiting for you. Look, do not worry, there are so many people passing right now and none of them were stopped. You only have to think and believe that you are going to a party. Get in a party going mood and they will not stop you. Entrust yourself to God, but if they stop you, we do not know each other, just return and we will try again."

The woman left the bathroom. My panic was so much that I forgot her name. But her words helped me so much. I concentrated on what I had to do to be with Chui. I had to act as if I was a lady going to a party, who's only concern was to look beautiful and have fun. I would have to act as if the last few weeks of my life including this night did not almost kill me. I would have to act as if I did not have an ill grandson that depended on me on the other side of that border. I would have to act as if I was not myself.

I am not sure how long I took in that bathroom because my reality in those moments was as if I was looking at a movie in suspense, it which I was the actress. Before leaving the bathroom, I do remember asking God to help me in that moment. I came out of that bathroom with a smile and with a step that almost danced. I was going to a dance and I was very excited. I walked close to the group and they almost did not recognize me until I was able to see the woman, and her eyes sparkled with the type of kindness that woman always give each other-- "thank you," I told her, and I continued acting. We walked on the bridge towards the immigration offices, laughing and having a good time. We came all the way up to where they stop people and ask for their identification. I remember that within five steps of reaching that post where the immigration agent was, and my smile stopped.

I began to think of Chui, and I knew that if I did not succeed in crossing that night, I would only be left with those horrible pains. I thought I would pass out at the idea of being detained. One of the men in group noticed that I walked more slowly and with my head down. I was at two steps of the post. Time froze and I turned towards that man. His smile reminded me that we were going to a party. I saw how the other woman and man had already passed and now we were the only ones left. One step to the post. The man on my side told something to stop his friends, but they only laughed and continued walking. He laughed and finally we were in front of the post. Time froze once again. The agent gave us a look from our feet to our heads. I tried to smile, and I did not faint. Many feelings were mixing in my brain. The land of opportunity for all of us, for me it was the land of opportunity to help Chui and to help give him the medical attention that he would need.

I returned to the post. I looked towards the agent, and I did not know if I was still smiling. The eyes of the agent looked past us. I turned to look. It was a large group, and they looked drunk. The cold eyes of the agent stared at me once again. Without removing his stare he gave us a sign with his hand, a sign that communicated that we continue. Time froze once again. I will never forget this moment in my life. I made it. I know that I continued walking, but I could not feel my feet. I did not feel my body. I only felt my spirit jumping in my heart, and came out of my body in the form of tears.

I do not remember much more about that night. But now that I remember, it was a party night for me. My spirit rejoiced that I would soon be there to support Chui. My spirit rejoiced that I was already in this country, I would have the opportunity to continue fighting to keep Chui healthy. My spirit rejoiced because on that night on the border of Tijuana, I had the strength to survive, and with that same strength, I have survived in this country till this day.

Los Viajes

Poor Magazine's Podcast

by Zackary Whitehead

Hegemony--The predominant influence, as of a state, region, or group, over another or others.

In my last revolutionary worker scholar article entitled, "You Sexy Thing", I wrote about my experiences working as a security guard in a supermarket. In this bad economy, it is the only job I can get. Many people tell me, "You should be thankful you even have a job". Believe me, I am on my knees every night giving thanks to the Gods of private security and loss prevention (LP for short) for allowing me to wear the uniform of 100% polyester, neckline covered in fur and, of course, badge with the security guard company logo.

Something interesting happened during my shift that is worth noting. I was monitoring the activity in the store near the entrance/exit doors. I was in a highly visible position, nestled between stacks of sports drinks and dingdong/hoho (or hoho/dingdong) cakes. I was trying to look alert and attentive but I was in a different place, a different reality. I was daydreaming of getting into the electronic buggy for disabled shoppers and plowing full-speed into the store manager's ass (complete with painted-on bullseye), bumper car style (A la bull goring matador). I imagined doing donuts in the aisles and parking lot and popping wheelies and leaving skidmarks while flapping my arms and making chicken noises. This is the best part of security for me--being able to let the imagination run loose down the aisles while the manager makes announcements over the loudspeakers about various perishables.

As I stood near the dingdong/hoho cakes, a co-security guard whose post is in the parking lot approached me. "Hey", he said, "There was a guy who came in earlier, I think he walked out with a beer". There was a pause. "What you need to do", he continued, "is walk the aisles so you can see what these guys are doing". I gave him my most sincere and confounded look. "I didn't see the guy", I said, "What did he look like?" The guard looked at me and said under his breath, "He was a young black guy. He came in yesterday too". I began to notice a pattern among these supermarket employee folk. I heard them say things like, They're stealing from "us", when referring to shoplifters. Who the hell is "us" i'd whisper to myself silently. I witnessed a Raza store clerk run after a young African descended woman whom she thought was shoplifting. The lady was merely placing her basket down near the entrance doors and obtaining a larger basket on wheels.

I stood in silence feeling as if I had betrayed some secret code of security guards. Here was this guard (an ex mortgage broker, bless his altruistic soul) trying to school me, trying to bring out the empathy that was dormant in my soul for the Budweiser Beer Company that just got beaten for $1.25. Shame overcame me like a flood of florescent light. I felt the need for a bathroom run followed by a drink (Presumably one I'd pay for, 1.25 to be exact). I recalled a conversation I'd had with POOR Magazine co-editor Lisa Gray-Garcia (AKA Tiny) about people like this. They identify with the man to the degree that they start believing that they own what the man owns, said Tiny. What they own is hegemony.

"Follow me", said my security guard comrade. He led me across the aisles past the sodium, fat and high fructose corn syrup laden foodstuffs. We went up a flight of stairs until coming to a door that said, "Manager". We walked inside. The manager sat at a desk strewn with papers and orange rinds. Her hands were folded into a little pyramid. "I heard you have a different outlook than the others", she said, leaning back in her chair. "What outlook is that?" I asked. The manager looked at the other guard, then at me. "You know very well what I'm talking about". She opened her drawer and pulled out a medicine bottle and tablespoon.

She approached me and unscrewed the cap. I looked at the bottle, on it was the word: Hegemony. The other guard grabbed me from behind in a Full Nelson. "Open wide", said the manager, the syrup oozing onto the tablespoon like a disease. "What is that, I asked. "It's good for you", she replied, "We get the stuff by the truckloads, at marked down prices. Open up!" She put the spoon to my lips. I opened my mouth and took the tepid liquid. It burned into my tongue like a freshly lit match. In a flash I spit it out, wanting to expunge the medicine and everything it stood for in the annals of supermarket history. The liquid landed on the manager's face like a frenzied molecular species that had just been let loose from the lab. She screamed like a hyena (which is an insult to that species). The guard shoved me against the wall and landed 2 knees to my groin--the left first, then the right. "Get him the hell outta here!" the manager screamed.

The guard led me down the stairs by the scruff of the neck like a bad little boy who disturbed the class--past the aisles with dog food, floor wax, snack cakes, clothes detergent and frozen fish sticks. He led me through the exit door and out of that market and into the street. The birds were perched on a wire waiting for me. I walked away from that market leaving behind a current opening for a security officer.

by tiny aka Lisa Gray-Garcia, poverty scholar, daughter of Dee

“ We want Oakland our way – we demand a right to stay,” community voices in resistance to the predatory lending, eviction and foreclosure of poor folks of color rolled down the 94th street block of East Oakland this week past boarded up houses-remnants of lost families, lost communities and lost cultures.

“Thanks to all of your support, my family, my friends and neighbors, I have been able to remain in my home,” Karen Mims, resident of 9401 cherry street in East Oakland spoke through tears to a crowd of over 50 people gathered on her lawn in protest to a year long battle Mrs Mimms has been having with Aurora Loan Services to stay in her home of 12 years.

“My personal story is that I was with another lender – Homecoming (another lender), who never took responsibility for my loan and lost my payment and then sold my loan to Aurora loan services.” Mrs Mimms went on to explain that after that bankers bait and switch game Aurora Loan had agreed to place her in a repayment plan, but instead sent a speculator out to her home last year to inspect her home for foreclosure.

“We have been besieged by lenders who write loans that people can’t afford and then lay in wait for them to default, foreclose on the loans and leave our families on the streets which tears apart the neighborhoods of East and West Oakland,” said Ray Leon with councilmember Larry Reid’s office in district 7 where Mrs Mimms resides. Leon concluded, “It appears that most of these predatory lenders are waiting for these foreclosures to happen.”

As I stood on the corner of 94th street, a street littered with for sale and foreclosed signs, I was taken back to the not to distant past of me and my poor mama being evicted and landless in both East and West Oakland for years throughout my childhood. How no matter how hard me and my mama fought the evictions which in our case were from rental properties, if corporate interests, rich lawyers and unjust systems were stacked up against us as they are against Mrs. Mimms, we never had a chance. For us eviction meant homelessness. Thankfully, there are powerful resistance groups like Just Cause Oakland, who have been working in solidarity with Mrs..Mimms to fight this unjust land take-over by any means necessary.

“Our fight today and this complete fight is to defend our right to stay zone,” Robbie Clark, Organizer with Just Cause placed Mrs Mimms situation in the larger context of Right to a City and Take Back the Land resistance efforts happening across the nation, which questions who should be in control of neighborhoods and land and how corporations, governments and agents of the state are empowered with the ability to cause whole communities to become landless and without a roof.

The days rally of neighbors and advocates, re-ported and sup-ported on by POOR Magazine/PNN and many more allies ended with triumph. Because of the community pressure put on Aurora and the support of conscious legislators like Ray Leon and Larry Reid, the eviction was postponed. Now the pressure must continue.

Mrs. Mimms, a soft-spoken revolutionary closed with, “We are asking for the support of all the people involved in this battle – we can fight these battles, we cant just keep moving on and leave people in the streets.”

Postscript: WE must keep on the pressure. Mrs. Mimms needs our support. Please call Aurora Loan Services, please call their legal representative: Nicole Kim at 720-945-3217 and the loan officer in charge of Karen’s loan: Carrie Black at (720)945-4566, We are demanding they rescind the eviction for Karen Mims, loan number: 0021802152

Just Cause is also asking for people to make donations to Karen so that she can stay in her home, the rent that Aurora is asking her to pay is $50/day, if you can donate a day, or part of a day, that would be greatly appreciated, to make a donation contact Just Cause Oakland at (510) 763-5877

by Muteado/PNN Migrant and Poverty Scholar

Scroll Down for English

La piel se me hizo chinita y senti un nudo en la garganta al ver mis hermanos Africanos bailando Guapango en la tarima con las hermanas Veracruzanas. Tuve la oportunidad de ser testigo de una galeria en el museo de la cuidad de Oakland El Agosto pasado que se llamo La presencia Africana en Mexico, de Yanga al presente, que se trato de una instalacion de fotos y pinturas que revelaban la presencia Africana en Mexico de la que poco se habla. Yanga fue un revolucionario que peleo contra los espanoles para mantenerse libre de la esclavitud y se unio con la gente indigena de la region de Veracruz, Mexico para crear una comunidad libre.

Yanga vive la lucha sigue

Los primeros barcos de esclavos que llegaron a Mexico llegaron al borde de un levantamiento de los esclavos contra sus captores en la cuidad de Mexico en el ano 1537; el levantamiento asusto a los Espanoles que no se lo esperaban. En esos tiempos un quinto de Mexico estaba asegurado por los Espanoles,y la constante amenaza de una invasion de Indigenas del norte y del sur era una realidad. Los escritores del Rey escribian que si la rebelion seguia y los Africanos y Indigenas se organizaban podian planear una masacre contra los blancos.

En 1540s hubo dos levantamientos de Africanos cerca de la cuidad de Mexico. Por muchos lugares circulaban rumores de que se planificaba un levantamiento en la mera cuidad de Mexico en los anos 1600s.

Durante los anos, 1560-1580s Africanos huyeron a las minas de Zacatecas y se unieron a la tribu Chichimec localizada en la parte del norte de Mexico, que todavia no habian sido colonizados. La poblacion Africana se concentro en las orillas del Atlantico y Pacifico; donde plantaciones de cana, en la costa de Veracruz, ocupaban su labor para producir la mayoria de la riqueza del imperio.

Yanga fue la rebelion mas memorable, donde dejo las files de cana sangrientas en el ano 1570. El lider rebelde, Gaspar Yanga era un esclavo de la nacion Africana de Gabon, y se decia que provenia de una familia royal. Yanga llevo su rebeldia a las montanas, donde crearon un pueblo pequeno de 500 personas. Los Yangas aseguraron su estabilidad, saqueando caravanas de los Espanoles que traian comida de las montanas de Veracruz.

Buenas relaciones fueron establecidas con vecinos que tambien eran esclavos e Indigenas. Por mas de 30 anos Yanga y su banda vivieron libremente y su comunidad seguia creciendo en numeros.

Los espanoles concluyeron que Gaspar Yanga tenia que ser eliminado. Con eso en la mente un escuadron partio de la cuidad de Puebla en el ano 1609. Pero no pudieron lograr su objetivo. Enves antes que Yanga falleciera, ya tenia un tratado en su mano donde los Espanoles, se pusieron de acuerdo a liberar a sus seguidores y dejarlos que establecieran un pueblo libre.

Mi sobrinito que es Black-xican tiene una herencia de culturas bellas con mucha historia

En estas epocas que vivimos es importante analizar que tenemos mucho mas en comun con nuestros hermanos y hermanas de descendencia Africana y Indigena de lo que nos imaginamos. Es muy importante unirnos en la lucha para liberar a nuestros pueblos oprimidos. Como dijo Shaka de Hairdoo, nosotros somos los responsables de crear el Puente que une a los Latin@s y Afro American@s para liberarnos como seres humanos.

El Poder a la Gente, y Hasta la Victoria Siempre

En los Estados Unidos, l@s Afro American@s y Latin@s somos la mayoria en las carceles. La mayoria de la cantidad de homicidios son en contra de la gente Latina y Afro Americana, en esto somos los numero uno. Les hago un llamado a la gente consciente que miremos este tema con mucha importancia porque es la llave de nuestra liberacion. El sistema esta ganando en separarnos y en conquistar a nuestras comunidades. Hay que imaginar que pasaria si los Afro American@s y Latin@s nos unimos y que seria el impacto que podemos crear en este sistema opresivo?

Cierro con esto por ultimo: Que Vivan Las Adelitas, George Jackson, Mother Jones, Cesar Chavez, Fred Hampton, Geronimo, Huey Newton, Gaspar Yanga y las Muxeres por todo el mundo!!

Ingles Sigue

My skin got goosebumps and I got a knot in my throat as I saw my African brothers dancing Guapango on the platform along with the sisters from Veracruz, I had the opportunity to bare witness of a gallery that focused on the African presence in Mexico, at the Oakland Museum this past August. The art gallery was titled, African Presence in Mexico, from Yanga to the Present; it revealed through a series of photographs and paintings the African presence in Mexico, which is rarely mentioned. Yanga was a revolutionary who fought against the Spanish for his freedom from slavery. He joined the Indigenous movement of Veracruz, Mexico, to create a free community.

Yanga lives; the struggle continues

The first African slave ships arrived to Mexico where they were on the verge of an uprising against their masters in Mexico City in 1537; the uprising scared the Spanish because it caught them off guard. At that time, the Spanish already colonized one fifth of Mexico, and the threat of an invasion from the Indigenous of the North and South became a real threat. The King's writers, documented that if the rebellion continued, and the Africans and Indigenous became organized, they had the potential to plan a massacre against the white colonizers.

In the 1540s there were two African uprisings close to Mexico City. During the 1600s rumors circulated that the Movement was planning an uprising in Mexico City.

During the years of 1560-1580, Africans fled the mines of Zacatecas and joined the not yet colonized Indigenous tribe, Chichimec, located in the Northern part of Mexico. The African population concentrated on the Atlantic and Pacific coasts, where sugar cane plantations on the coast of Veracruz used their labor to produce most of their wealth.

Yanga was the most memorable rebellion, where it left numerous rows of sugarcane filled with blood, in 1570. The leader of the rebellion was Gaspar Yanga, who was an African slave from the nation of Gabon, and was said to come from a family of royalty. Yanga took his rebellion to the mountains, where they created a small village of 500 people. The Yangas, secured their village, by robbing caravans from the Spanish colonizers that brought food from the mountains of Veracruz. Relationships were created with other African and Indigenous neighbors. For more than 30 years, Yanga and his band lived free, and their community grew in numbers.

The Spanish concluded that Gaspar Yanga had to be eliminated, and with that goal, in 1609, from the city of Puebla, they sent out a death squad. However, they did not manage to meet their objective. Instead, before Yanga died, he had a contract in his hand, where the Spanish agreed to liberate his followers and allowed them to create their own free city. This powerful installation made me think of my own family. My nephew who is a Black-Xican has an inheritance of beautiful cultures with so much history. As Raza peoples it is important to analyze that we have much more in common with our African and Indigenous brothers and sisters than we can imagine. It is imperative that we unite in the struggle to liberate our oppressed communities. Like Shaka de Hairdoo, said, we are responsible for the creation of the bridge that unites Latin@s and African Americans to liberate ourselves as human beings.

Power to the People and Until Victory Always

In the United States, African Americans and Latin@s are the majority in the prison system. The majority of homicides are against Latin@s and African Americans, here we are at number one. I make a calling to all my conscious people, that we take a look at this issue with a keen eye, as it is the key to our own liberation. The system is winning, by separating and seducing our communities. We have to imagine what were to happen if the African Americans and Latin@s were to unite and the impact this would have on this oppressive system?

Long live Las Adelitas, George Jackson, Mother Jones, Cesar Chavez, Fred Hampton, Geronimo, Huey Newton,

by Tiny aka Lisa Gray-Garcia, PoorNewsNetwork poverty scholar

"There are millions of poor people in this country who have very little, or even nothing, to lose, if they can be helped to take action together, they will do so with a freedom and a power that will be a new and unsettling force in our complacent national life"
Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

"In Durban, South Africa, it is not racism, it's poverty that's affecting us now." I was blessed to meet Mazwi Nzimande, youth and poverty scholar leader with Abahlai base Mjondolo (The Shack Dwellers Union) in South Africa, a revolutionary group of landless folks in Capetown and Durban, South Africa, who were one of the organizations sharing scholarship at the Poverty Scholars Program Leadership School held in West Virginia in August of 2009.

Myself and Laure McElroy, poverty scholars, co-madres and staff writers with the welfareQUEENS project of POOR Magazine, and our sons, POOR Magazine youth scholars Evander McElroy and Tiburcio Garcia-Gray traveled for over 9 hours and three consistently late plane connections to be here, leaving unpaid water bills, unfunded programs, unsent unemployment checks, racial profiling, po'lice abuse and almost unpaid rent to make sure our voices and scholarship could join with over 120 other scholars from across the globe to re-ignite Dr. Kings dream.

With scholars from Scotland to New York, from Africa to Detroit, we were educated on multiple models of resistance and struggle throughout herstory, organizing through art and faith, multi-lingual inclusion and systemic change in the face of the often talked about but rarely understood economic downturn.

There is money to build housing but the money is being spent to build stadiums,
Mazwi went on to explain how the homes of the shack dwellers in Durban and other cities in South Africa are being systematically demolished so the poor people remain at least 50 kilometers away from the upcoming World Cup stadium. In an act that will permanently criminalize landless South Africans, the current government is trying to pass the Slums Act which allows the eviction of families by saying that certain areas of South Africa must be slum free.

When the people of South Africa challenged this unconstitutional act, they faced a judge who fell asleep while on the bench supposedly adjudicating their case, similar to the cases of many of the judges and lawyers in Amerikkkan Criminal Un-Justice System that have convicted poor black men and sent them to death row in Texas while sleeping throughout the trials.

"We have a very nice constitution in South Africa that states no-one can be evicted once they have lived in a place for over 24 hours without due process, but its dust now, no-one follows it", Mazwi concluded. Mazwi told us how poor children who are found living on the streets are put in jail for weeks at a time if tourists are expected to come to Durban. Mazwi's stories of removal and criminalization reminded me of the ways that encampments of landless folks in the Bay Area are arrested and washed away with high pressure power washers when they are found in settlements under the freeways, under the bridges, in doorways, and other outside residences.

As of 2007, 37 million people are living in poverty in the US, that's up from 5.7 million in 2003, the powerful week of knowledge sharing and coalition building began with youth leaders from Philadelphia Student Union (PSU) and Media Mobilizing Project, breaking down the numbers of people struggling to stay fed, housed and employed in every city in the US today.

Yo soy Angelica Hernandez, y yo soy trabadora domestica, (I am Angelica Hernandez and I am a domestic worker) Angelica explained that she worked with an organization called Domestic Workers United in New York, an organization that many of PoorNewsNetwork's migrant and poverty scholars have worked with to achieve worker rights for migrant scholars.

Christine Lewis, also with Domestic Workers United explained how many amazing women have spearheaded the fight to create a domestic workers bill of rights which makes sure that domestic workers are paid decent wages and given proper protection and recognition for the crucial work they do.

We must root our struggle in the history of all peoples struggle, and that includes all of our struggles across organizations and regions, religion and race. In a training on multi-lingualism sponsored by Voluta Interpreters collective based in Philadelphia, Willie Baptist, long-time organizer and one of the poverty scholar leaders involved in the Leadership School, articulated the current goals of the campaign.

After all of these powerful women and men shared their resistance struggles my eyes traveled outside the window of our plenary session. I watched drops of thick warm rain as it rolled down deep green leaves onto fertile West Virginia earth. Land once tilled and harvested by Shawnee, Iroquis and Seneca peoples before guns and treaties and more guns stole it away. Earth stained with the blood of coal miners, former slaves and migrant peoples struggling for workers' rights, civil rights and human rights and now land rights.

"Mountain-top removal is causing weekly flooding round these parts, we are losing our land, our homes, and our jobs", Gerry Randal, a life-long resident of Matewan, West Virginia, said, explaining how corporations like Massey Energy, one of the largest coal producers in West Virginia which is part of the "clean coal" movement and has been destroying the land his family has lived on for hundreds of years. "We are poor people we have nowhere to go", Gerry concluded and then in a deep West Virginia drawl, told me to have a nice day miss..

The corporate-fueled, flagrantly illegal land destruction in the name of development reminded Laure and myself of the poisoning of communities by private housing developers like Lennar Corporation who is attempting to gentrify and destroy the Bayview/Hunters Point district of San Francisco, even if it means poisoning our children and families.

I ran into Gerry while I was on a tour provided by the institute through Matewan, the town known for a shoot-out between the town's sheriff and the thugs hired to kill, evict and harass any coal miners who were suspected of union organizing. On this tour we learned the bloody and deadly herstory and histories of repression by coal companies of their workers. We also learned the inspiring stories of resistance like the true meaning of "red-necks" and the "red-neck army:--a group of over 1700 coal miners who were known for wearing red scarves around their necks and dared to take up arms against the brutality of corporations like Massey Coal, who paid their workers in script worth cents on the dollar and only redeemable in Massey company stores.

We left Matewan, the heat and humidity dripping slowly down the backs of the chewed on mountains. Carpet green hills, forests dense with deep brown and red. Spirits of poverty scholars and amerikkkan survivors seemed to sway with songs of lost ancestors.

When John Henry was hammering on the mountain

And his hammer was striking fire

He drove so hard til he broke his poor heart

And he laid down his hammer and he died

He laid down his hammer and he died

He laid down his hammer and he died John Henry was a black railroad worker who the legend has it died working on the rails in West Virginia

Rivers large and small, wide and narrow.. winded through the land that we passed, carrying life, time, dreams, and resistance. In these rivers and forests of immense beauty and devastating struggle, my Mama Dee came forth, her tears that I cry often for--her struggle as an unwanted, abused and tortured mixed race child living in poverty and later as a poor single mother of color who became disabled and houseless with me her daughter, and later my struggle to care for her when she was unable to work followed, then, by my ongoing struggle to raise a child while struggling with houselessness, her struggle is my struggle, the struggle of all of our mamaz and children, entwined, threaded, with the struggles for land.

It is for my mama and all our mamaz and daughters, daddys and sons, grandmothers and grandfathers that POOR Magazine has launched the Homefulness Project, a sweat-equity co-housing project that distributes equity to landless families not tied to how much money they have access to. HOMEFFULNESS includes a small farm and intergenerational, multi-lingual school and several micro-business projects to support economic self sufficiency for poor folk moving off the grid of budget cuts, corporate gentrification, Slavemart (Walmart) and (Safeway) Slaveway food poisoning, english language domination, the non-profit industrial complex and poverty pimpology.

And then our magical tour bus of change arrived at the West Virginia Historical Society, which contained a powerful exhibition about the New Deal and the towns of Allendale, Preston and Daily, three resettlement communities for unemployed workers created by Eleanor Roosevelt in the time of the severe depression and the New Deal when millions of US residents were living without food, housing or jobs. Each resettlement community included a farm, carpet factory, furniture factory and a school. Omigod, I dreamed, what a truly revolutionary way for that much talked about stimulus money to be used in the 21st Century for our current poor and landless families.

This is Chemical Valley, said pastor Amanda Gayle Reed a fifth generation native of West Virgina, about the land around the Camp. At a community bbq sponsored by the Leadership School I met Pastor Gayle only to be terrified by more corporate poisoning. She continued,"the levels of MIC (Methyl Isocyanate, the chemical released in Bhopal, India in 1984 that killed more than 3,800 People) from the Dow chemical plant buried in this valley are higher than they were in Bhopal, India when they had the explosion, we have shelter in place warnings all the time because the chemical levels here are so high."

I have been to the mountaintopDr. Martin Luther King Jr

On our final day at the institute my son and I talked about the power of resistance of our elders and ancestors that came and fought before us like Dr. King and John Henry, Uncle Al Robles and Mama Dee, as we gazed upon the land. We meditated on the words of Dr. King, our teachings this week and our own lives as a poor, landless family in resistance in the US. And finally we reflected on one of the messages that were proven this week at the Institute which we teach on often at POOR Magazine--the connections between all of our shared struggles for land, food, freedom and voice in South Africa, New Orleans, Mexico, West Virginia, Oakland, Guatemala and beyond,now, we thought, lets work to keep the revolution of truth-telling and cross-movement mobilization flowing so we can continue Dr. King's walk up all of Pacha Mama's ailing mountain-tops.

We are the keepers of the mountain

Love them or leave them

Just don't destroy them

If you dare to be one to.. Larry Gibson, fighting the removal of his families mountain by Massy Coal

To support the families in struggle to keep their land contact Larry.gibson@mountainkeepers.org or call 304-542-1134

For more information on the Poverty Initiative program go on-line to www.povertyintiative.org

by POOR Magazine/PNN staff & family

POOR Magazine denounces the denial of parole for Indigenous elder, scholar, activist and protector of Turtle Island Leonard Peltier by the United States Parole Commission. Peltier's parole hearing was his first since 1994. His next hearing is scheduled in 2024, when he will be 79 years old. Leonard Peltier has spent more than 3 decades in prison for the killing of 2 FBI agents on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota 1975. Despite evidence and thousands of pages of documents that would prove his innocence, the US justice system has perpetuated its culture of vengeance, not only against Leonard Peltier but against all political prisoners and indigenous peoples of Turtle Island. Poor Magazine recognizes and has implemented the UN Declaration on Indigenous People that states that indigenous people have a right to remain on and have control of the land and to the resources thereof. Poor Magazine stands in solidarity with the American Indian Movement (AIM), United Native Americans and millions of supporters worldwide in resistance to the warehousing and ownership of people to fuel and propagate the prison industrial complex (PIC). We call on the millions of Leonard Peltier supporters to not give up the fight to contact President Barack Obama and demand a full pardon for our brother and elder Leonard Peltier

by Bruce Allison and Thorton Kimes

SSI and SSP will be cut by $20 a month beginning July, 2009. This will create a deficit in the personal budgets of anyone with a disability, or seniors enrolled in those programs. California pays $200 more on these grants than the federal government, which gives The Governator room to cut and still give more than other states. The President’s Stimulus package makes it possible for the cut to be only $5 a month by this poverty scholar’s math.

Other cuts devastating to poor folks include cutting home care workers’ pay from $11 to $9 per hour. Many home care workers are providing services for their own parents or other relatives in need of their help; many home care workers provide these services instead of working in other fields for more money--they could even have ended up being some of the people we love to hate for the current state of the economy, except that they had a conscience and chose to help family.

These workers have been helping the California economy by keeping them at home instead of in more expensive nursing facilities. A great example of this is Poor Magazine’s own Tiny Lisa Gray Garcia, who was her own mother’s care giver as well as being a mother herself—and running a fabulous publication—before becoming Communications Director of Justice Matters, a non-profit advocacy organization that helps youth of color get a better education.

People who receive MediCal benefits are also going under the knife, as the Governator is now calling dentistry, vision, podiatry, chiropractic, acupuncture, and some psychiatric out-patient services “cosmetic”. This will inevitably take patients straight to the Emergency Room of the nearest hospital, spending the money Schwarzenegger wants to save anyway.

Last of the knife cuts is to families of three or more, cutting their monthly CalWorks grant from $760 to $690. Many of my friends and Poor Magazine co-writers will be enduring this particular indignity. After paying the rent and utilities there will only be $300 left to get through the month. This is tough for a single person to do, let alone a family.

Please think of them as having some dignity in their lives. It is hard enough to ask someone else for help, they did not ask for this and do not deserve it. Please ask/demand that the Governator change these decisions, as there are other cuts he could make to save money that wouldn’t hurt anyone. Disabled and Senior folks in the state prison system could be paroled and save approximately $100 million.

There are some other solutions this poverty scholar would like to make, but they are not very polite, so dear readers, you must use your imaginations. Consider this article an exercise in anger management!

by Joseph Bolden

The errors are from trying to work fast and not giving myself enough time in the day to complete all my work and starting again the next day.

The computer dedicated duty is to keep track of dates of writing not realizing human sometimes with not enough time will continue their work another day.

This being a two part effort with near similar titles confuses the programing hence all the dates of creation and/or recreation.

From now on I'll make time for columns written completing them in the same day even if they were thought up days before.

Once again my apologies.

by Pamela Juhl

(Hello Illin-N-Chillin Readers! As I approach middle age I want to display my rich family's history so I talked to my White, non disabled Sister in Demark through Skype and she wrote this below.)

It has always been a state of mind to observe, like the fly on the wall - and all through childhood, while growing up in the heart of New York City - this was my motto. The circus of life - the haves and the have nots, the sane and insane, the druggies and the hippies, the kind and the evil doers - this city had it all during the 70s and 80s. The only question I used to ask myself, who was responsible for this mess? It all just seemed like complete chaos, and yet somehow it all just worked in its dysfunction. That became the norm - the abnorm - the crimes, the violence, the street gangs, the bullies, the rich avoiding the poor - and the poor evaporating into the subways, as the city became a tourist hotspot for the Giuliani Mayor regime of let's get NYC cleaned up.

As a child, I never thought much about color of the skin, until my best friend (whom I consider my sister) and I needed to run from racist white kids who wanted to kick our asses because she was dark skinned and I was light skinned. My family was not rich and the whole concept of money was a stressful issue, and as I felt my own family's struggle to keep things together, I saw those less fortunate than us hangin' out on the street corners - lookin' for ways to make a life better - either in a jam, a funk, a jive, a jig, a crime or a line. And as the perverts followed me home at age 9, it became a reality that life, as my mother used to say, was not fair.

My mother's best friend Lela (The Moore family) had 3 kids; my brother and I considered them our family - our brother and two sisters. We all spent summers together, and I was able to see how the world treated us - a family of mixed race - The normal stares were a standard, the racial comments, the ill treatment, the whispering behind backs - it all seemed so strange - and never at one point, did I think it was us with the problem - for we, as a family, were happy together - enjoying each others’ company and learning from each other. The white neighbors, who lived beside The Moore family, seemed like rancid, bitter monsters of hate in their way of treating my family (all of us) differently because of our skin color. I felt, at times, deeply ashamed to be white, because I could see how it made people treat me better than my dark skinned brother & sisters. I learned to be clever and to use the whiteness of my skin as a tool to open up doors for others of a darker shade, and till this day - I consider my skin color a key to doors locked for others, and I realized that what I was born with, I could use it and share it to provide for others in this "unfair" world - until the real change came to eradicate all racism. These moments, as a child, were fraught with insightfulness into the minds of the prejudice and discriminating entities - the attitudes & learned behavior from adults and the surrounding environments which promoted separation and individualization as opposed to togetherness and cooperation.

As I walked through my childhood, never really knowing what it was like to have any kind of physical disability, only the ones in a mental sense (insecurities, peer pressures and societal expectations), my brother, Leroy, the son of my mother's best friend Lela Moore, showed me how to care with humor. My sister, Melissa and I, used to watch over Leroy "Roy", especially after he had one of many hip operations. We used to take him for “walks” around the block on a flat piece of wood with wheels, while his whole lower part of his body was in a cast. And as I reflect back on those moments, we never saw him as different, but rather the "boy" who got to see inside how we "girls" lived; what we spoke about, and how we processed the world. I remember the suburban white community, where the Moore family lived, and how the neighbors looked upon Roy. This confused my understanding of what I thought a small community should be like. They were afraid of him, and used to make fun of him. I compared it to NYC, and thought to myself, wow “ these neighbors are mean; but I knew from NYC, that people were mean and treated people differently based on color and ability. My sister and I only saw Roy's physical disability as an opportunity to be the first ones to run for the ice cream truck or find ourselves first in line for a morsel of something good from the kitchen. I never actually thought about his hardships and pain until later in life. My sister and I simply included him in our moments of girlhood, where other boys were not allowed to be; a peek into the world of young women and how we thought about things. We were always conscious of his presence, and I felt he was a part of our world; a part of our understanding of what we were experiencing as kids. I felt bad, at times, when my sister would be harsh to Roy, but in the end, I was just happy he was there. To me, he was a “boy” first; where we girls got the opportunity to expose to our “girlish” ways of doing and seeing things – in front of him, without him having the power to run or dominate.

In the mid 90's, I worked for the private corporations, while attending the university at night. I used to sit on a brownstone stoop during lunch off of Park Avenue, and cry as I saw the complete injustices of those sleeping on the streets in card board boxes (begging for a quarter), while the suits and ties walked right by, not even flinching an eye - talking on their cell phones. I dove right into a plan to get out - make a difference and I wound up in Panama with the Peace Corps. I was soon to realize, the bigger plans of bureaucracy did not always include those less fortunate; it was more about what things looked like on paper than the reality. And as I integrated into the mountainous lifestyle of the campesinos of Panama, my heart grew even more fierce and determined to make a difference. Seeing the children with no shoes, toothpaste, school books, bed linen, food or proper education burned me to the core. And in their lack of resources, there was still a kindness and compassionate warmth in their being that I had yet to experience in the hearts and minds of the busy NY City streets.

After Panama, I yearned to know who were my other brothers and sisters - suffering and dreaming of a better life. I moved to Mexico, and there, I volunteered at several orphanages where I saw another kind of poverty and hardship. I will never forget the eyes of these little children who, even in their hardship, carried a kindness in their hearts, and a curiosity of compassion expressed in simple ways of being. They lived in the now, and learned to survive, all the while, having a depth of purity and innocence that pervaded their conditions. No one can justify these outrageous states of being for our children of today, and everyone’s hands carry the burden of its manifestation.

Now I live in Copenhagen Denmark, and see social injustices of yet another kind. The one that says - it's "us vs. them" (the foreigners invading the "purity" of Denmark). It's a strange feeling to be a foreigner here - and especially for those with darker skin or of another faith - like Muslim; it can be even worse than strange - down right painful. Imagine a world where people don't look at you, don't acknowledge your presence, and don't even converse with you on a basic social level on a cue at the market, on the bus, in the park or on the streets. A place where it is uncommon to hold the door for someone or to say “please” or “thank you”. I remember when I first came here, many Danes used to say, "OH, you won't amount to anything here unless you learn Danish." I thought to myself, but I already am something, can't you see? It frustrated me to think that the doors of acceptance were based on learning their language. Yet, many foreigners here, who learn the language, are still marginalized and ostracized by the society and culture. Why? for the simple fact that they are different. To be different here is a threat and not widely accepted. In my opinion, it is a nation of followers - with few possessing leadership qualities - and the idea of co-existence is foreign. My goal has been now to find the few Danes who do not agree with the norm of the culture and its ruling political party prejudice agenda towards foreigners, and to work together with them to create positive integration between various people, cultures and traditions.

As an international press photographer, and a humanitarian activist supporting the voice of the voiceless through photography, TV, journalism, multimedia, and activism, I see that with each and every problem any society faces, irregardless of its origin of source, is everyone's problem. Thus, we are all responsible for all that we are faced with today. I have come to the conclusion about the social injustices of the world; in order to heal any situation, one must begin from within. This entails certain conditions of letting go of the ego, learning how to forgive, learning how to let go of our past, and learning how to be in the now with compassion, respect and understanding of our differences. I realized in all these years working as a press photographer that I am no different than the one I am shooting - we are all the same - just on the outside we appear different - it is up to us to decide that which we see, and if we see ourselves as individuals searching for our own piece, this is what we will find.

Multimedia is the key to linking those who are like minded at heart, and it has become a tool of the future for those who are considered cutting edge Doers in humanitarian rights, activism, social justices, and the like - however, we must remember that what would happen if our internet were cut off, our connection and dependency to the multimedia world just simply vanished - and we had no way to communicate internationally to each other? And what truly would stop the powers that be from doing this, perhaps one day. I ask you now, to think about this, because as big brother becomes even bigger, and tax payers keep pouring money into military, war, political agendas of the elite and the corporations - at some point it will come to a simple fact.

And then the question of communication gets very basic - how are you with your neighbor? Are you kind, open, caring, forgiving, understanding, or bitter, angry, resentful, cross, and full of rage.

How well you treat people on a daily basis throughout your day, this is the real way to create an environmentally effective change. Sure, we can all join a group, speak out, collect in numbers, and this does work as well. However, if you have joined a cause, or are marching in a demo, or simply sitting back in your home connected to all causes via internet - what does it all mean if you cannot be kind and caring in the moment which you are living in - the now. A simple smile can change a person's whole day, and this, after all these years in the field of media, is what it boils down to - the kindness extended to another - no matter what they look like or who they are - we are all human first. Hate is the very emotion which feeds the beast which enslaves our people.

As I see racism and injustices here in Copenhagen Denmark against the immigrants and asylum seekers here - I hold one thing true - integrity of action - how am I being today? What have I done to improve the well being of another? These are the questions which will lead us to a better world - to be bold enough to make a stand, to support a voice, to move forward into the unknown with a surety of heart and kindness - that breeds compassion in others - for we are only the action which we take in the moment - and every moment needs to be cleansed of the ills which we have been conditioned to have - for we know now that there are some who benefit from our dysfunctions. We must heal each other and be there for each other; to embrace that which scares us the most - and face our fears - act boldly for those in need. Look deep inside yourself, and do one good deed from the heart today - and see how it feels. There is freedom in this; true freedom deep within our being - nothing can take away the bliss of being compassionate and in alignment with love for all, including yourself.

We must all begin to see that we are all together in this mess, and it is simply about those who are compassionate for others and those who choose to abuse others - in power and control - we will prevail - and we cannot be chained - for our freedom is from within - extending out to all. The social injustices, the senseless murders, the exploitations, the abuse of our planet - its all because we are conditioned from the greedy and ego minded ones not to believe in our power to be. If there is anything in my life that I have learned - it is me who is responsible for this mess - because we are all connected - thus - I am obligated to be love, to be kindness, to be compassion, to be a bridge, to be the platform for the voice of the voiceless - in hopes that that we all will eventually see without eyes but with heart, that we are all one. If we all saw through our hearts, no one could hurt another - and every piece of bread would be shared equally.

by Muteado/PNN Migrant and Poverty Scholar

Scroll down for English

El tambor hablo y el humo difundió una energía positiva por todo el sitio. “Dicen que toma un pueblo para criar a un niño, sin embargo, también toma un pueblo para poder mandarlo al colegio. Entonces el pueblo salió y hablo. El concierto, “Educación or the Bullet” (Educación o una bala) tomo lugar en el centro cultural de SOMArts. Organizado por HOMEY (Homies organizando a la Misión para apoderar la juventud) el evento se enfoco en la prevención de la violencia y la enseñanza de jóvenes, para que busquen maneras creativas para poder expresarse y motivar a los jóvenes que vayan al colegio.

Varias organizaciones comunitarias como: POWER, que se enfoca en temas que afectan a comunidades de color, MECHA, una organización estudiantil, Back Student Unión (Unión Morena de Estudiantes), Clínica Martín Baro, Huaxtec, Cultura Pherma Indígena, la comunidad Filipina y POOR Magazine vinieron a apoyar el evento.

El evento se comenzó con danzantes que bendijeron el edificio. Los MC’s presentaron a Deuce Eclipse, un artista de la área de la bahía, que hizo que comenzara la fiesta al compartir su música de consciencia. Desde el comienzo hasta el final, el evento estuvo lleno de grandes talentos, poetas, y raperos, no solo de la bahía, pero también de Los Angeles. Cihuatl-Ce Una Mujer MC compartió una letra poderosa, hablando sobre la opresión de las mujeres en todo el mundo. Cuando se le pregunto porque tomo parte de el evento, ella respondió, “Amo el área de la bahía y la energía de la juventud que hay aquí.” Le pregunte porque no hay tantas mujeres MC’s y ella respondió diciendo, “Hay muchas mujeres MC’s. Hasta hice un MySpace de solo mujer MC’s pero algunas veces no somos invitadas. Eso es lo positivo de este evento que organizo HOMEY.” La presentación de Cihuatl-Ce Una Mujer fue impactante, con un “slide show” pasando en el fondo mostrando estadísticas y datos sobre la realidad de la opresión de las mujeres en todo el mundo, mientras que ella cantaba.

“Como la historia ha sido escondido de nosotros”

El grupo HAIRDOO también bendijo el escenario con consciencia e unidad como siempre lo hacen. Tuve la oportunidad de hablar con Shaka, uno de los miembros de HAIRDOO y pregunte, “¿Por que vinieron a el evento de “Education or the Bullet?” Bueno, tenemos una conexión intima con Alejandro y BRN BFLO. también pensamos que apoyar este evento es importante porque hay hermanos convirtiéndose a victimas de homicidios y alguna de nuestra propia gente son los que están matando, la separación entre la comunidad morena y latina. Nos tenemos que unir para no solo derrotar al imperio, pero para también levantarnos, para poder conectar ese puente hacia la liberación como seres humanos.”

“Tenemos que conseguir nuestra educación por cual quieres medios necesarios.”

Big Dan de el grupo BRN BFLO que también participaron en el evento dijieron, “Nosotros estamos aquí apoyando a HOMEY, apoyando el movimiento y apoyando a los estudiantes indocumentados, porque todos merecemos una educación. Entonces tenemos que ser el cambio que queremos ver, hay que hallar lo que nos gusta hacer y hacerlo.”

“Welfare Queeeens!”

Las WelfareQueens de POORMagazine también estuvieron presentes. Hablando sobre la opresión de la mujer, que viene de el sistema y la separación de generaciones impuesto por la manera de pensar de el Oeste. “Las mujeres bien portadas nunca se meten en problemas” y las WelfareQueens no se portan bien. Compartiendo la verdad y hablando sobre las condiciones en que vivimos, trajeron con ellas su energía y compartieron su palabra.

“Ayude a su gente”

Somos One, de BRN BFLO, también compartió algunos pensamientos sobre el evento, “No, nomás somos artistas, somos maestros, estamos en el movimiento, estamos para apoyar a la juventud, para apoyar el evento de HOMEY. El evento estuvo muy bien organizado gracias a Alejandra, Nancy, Erik y que sigan participando en lo que les guste y ayude a su gente.”

“Que se joda la policía, que se jodan!”

Ise Lyfe también estuvo y compartió sus rimas y difundió consciencia sobre la opresión policíaca en nuestras comunidades de color y hablo sobre la matanza de Oscar Grant en una de sus nuevas canciones.

“Ahora salio un articulo donde decía que los latinos son el mayor porcentaje de gente encarcelada en Los Estados Unidos de Amérikkka.”

Mientras que tomaba el BART para regresarme al Este de Oakland, Sagnicthe- de Huaxtec y un organizador de la área de la bahía- hablo sobre la comunidad Latina y la educación. “HOMEY y Huaxtec han trabajado juntos y han tratado temas que afectan nuestras comunidades Latinas. Nosotros entendemos que la educación o la falta de educación es un problema con que la comunidad tiene que liriar. Vemos que lo que se le ofrece a la comunidad es la militar, el complejo industrial de las prisiones, o las calles. Es triste que mucha gente peleo por el sistema educativo que hoy tenemos y no lo aprovechamos, algunas veces lo recibimos con una actitud de resistencia y nos enfocamos en maneras negativas de expresarnos. Necesitamos cosas positivas para nuestra comunidad.

El evento de HOMEY, “Education or the Bullet” fue un concierto impactante que discutió la educación en los Estados Unidos de Amérikkka. Como sobreviviente del sistema publica de escuelas, veo la necesidad que hay, en apartarnos del enfoque europeo, y salir del sistema que ha sido construido para que comunidades de color salgan derrotadas.

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Education Not the Bullet

HOMEYSF sponsors an event focusing on the education system in Amerikkka

As the drum spoke and the smoke spread positive energy through the room, the danzantes blessed us with their moves. A voice spoke, “Every danza has a meaning and the next danza is meant to clear the bad energy in the room.” They say it takes a village to raise a child but it also takes a village to send a child to college and so the village came out and spoke. The "Education or the Bullet” concert took place at the SOMArts cultural center. Organized by HOMEY (Homies Organizing the Mission to Empower Youth) the event focused on violence prevention, teaching young people to look for creative ways to express themselves and encouraging young people to go college.

At the event, different grassroots organizations like POWER, who deals with issues that affect communities of color, MECHA, a student organization, Black Student Union, Clinica Martin Baro, Huaxtec, Indigenous Pherma Culture, Filipino Community and Poor Magazine came out to support.

The event was kicked off by some powerful Danzantes who blessed the building. The MC’s introduced Bay Area’s own, Deuce Eclipse, who busted out some conscious lyrics and got the party started. From beginning to end, the event was packed with amazing talents, poets and rappers not only from the bay, but also L.A. Cihuatl-Ce Una Mujer MC ripped the mic with powerful lyrics, speaking on the oppression of women in the world. When asking her why she took part of the event she replied, “I love the bay area and the energy that the youth have out here.” I also asked why there are not as many women MC’s and she answered: “There are a lot woman MC’s. I even created a myspace with only MC women, but sometimes, we don’t get invited. This is the positive thing about this event that HOMEY organized.” Cihuatl-Ce Una Mujer’s performance was powerful; she had a slide show and put out facts and statistics on the oppression of women in the world, while performing.

“How history has been hidden from us.”

HAIRDOO also blessed the stage with consciousness and unity like they always do. I had the opportunity to talk to Shaka, one of the members of HAIRDOO and asked, “What is HAIRDOO doing out here in ‘Education or the Bullet’?”

“Well, we have a close connection with Alejandro and BRN BFLO. [We] also think is important to support this event, because there are brothers becoming victims of homicide and some of our people are doing the killing, the black and brown separation. We need to unify ourselves not only to defeat the empire, but to also uplift each other, to be able to connect the bridge to the path to liberating ourselves as human beings."

“We need to get our education by any means necessary.”

Big Dan from BRN BFLO who also participated in the event said, "We are here to support HOMEY, support the movement and support the undocumented students, because we all deserve an education. So be the change that you want to see, find what you love to do and just do it.”

“Welfare Queeeens!”

Poormagazine’s own WelfareQUEENS were also in the house speaking on the oppression of women by the system and the separation of generations imposed by Western thinking. “Well-behaved women don’t get in trouble” and the WelfareQUEENS are always in trouble. Speaking powerful truths and telling it like it is, bringing their offspring into the stage, and sharing their powerful words.

“Ayude a su gente”

Somos One, of BRN BFLO, also dropped a couple of thoughts about the event, “No, nomas somos artistas, somos maestros, estamos en el movimiento, estamos para apoyar a la juventud, para apoyar el evento de HOMEY. El evento estuvo muy bien organizado gracias a Alejandra, Nancy, Erik y que sigan participando en lo que les guste y ayude a su gente.”

“Fuck the police, fuck em!”

Ise Lyfe was in the building, sharing rhymes and spreading conciousness about police oppression in our communities of color and speaking on the killing of Oscar Grant with his new piece.

“Ahora salio un articulo donde decia que los latinos son el mayor porcentaje de gente encarcelada en Amerikkka.”

“Today, I saw an article that said Latinos are the highest percentage of people incarcerated in Amerikkka.”

While riding BART back to East Oakland, Sagnicthe-from Huaxtec and an organizer in the Bay Area-spoke about the Latino community and education. “HOMEY and Huaxtec have done work together on issues that affect our Raza communities. We understand that education or the lack of education is a problem is our community that we have to deal with, we see that what is offered to our community is the military, prison industrial complex or the streets. It is sad that a lot of our people fought for the education system that we have now and we don’t take advangtage of it, sometimes we have an attitude of resistance and tend to focus on negative ways to express our selves. We need positive things for our community.”

“It takes a village to raise a child.”

HOMEY’s ‘Education or the Bullet’ concert was a powerful event that addressed the education in Amerikkka. As a survivor of the public school system, I see the need to ‘un-euro-centricize the educational system and move to be a more diverse curriculum in order to become relevant to our youth, who often drop out because they feel left out, powerless and cannot relate to an educational system that has been set up for them to fail.

by Staff Writer

As a result of Peltier's recent parole denial, Ben Carnes, Choctaw Nation, and a Sun Dance Chief, states he will go to Washington, D.C. to stand and fast in front of the White House between September 5th - 12th, in hopes of securing a meeting with President Obama.

Earlier this year, the LP-DOC sent a letter to President Obama to discuss the case of Leonard Peltier, but the reply from the White House declined to invite members of the committee for a meeting.

Leonard Peltier has been an international symbol of American injustice based upon critical questions surrounding his conviction in 1977 in the deaths of two FBI agents. Amnesty International has designated Peltier as a political prisoner and a U.S. prosecutor has admitted in court during an appeal hearing that he did not know who killed the agents and cannot prove who did. A federal judge who heard this statement was unable to afford any relief wrote a letter to Sen. Inouye to ask the president to grant clemency.

Carnes is a recipient of the 1987 Oklahoma Human Rights Award for his stand against forced hair cutting of Native prisoners. He has been asked to speak before congressional committees and has served with numerous human rights, interfaith and Native organizations. He has worked tirelessly on behalf of Peltier for over 28 years, and first became a national spokesperson in 1991. He is also national support group coordinator and advisory board member for the Leonard Peltier Defense Offense Committee.

"The basis of Peltier's denial by the parole commission is one of hypocrisy. It is also beyond belief that the chair of the US Parole Commission, Issac Fullwood, who is lectures on ethics in law enforcement, would turn a blind eye to the FBI's abuse of the investigative process. And Ms. Patricia Cushwa, commission member, and Chair of the Maryland parole commission recently supported a pardon for a man who had been executed, because there were questions about the case." said Carnes. He said that there are questions about Peltier case that remains unanswered, and with this denial, the parole commission have made Peltiers life sentence a sentence of death as he won't be eligible for parole for 15 years when he is 79 years old. Peltier will observe his next birthday on September 12 when he will turn 65. He has already served 33 years in prison.

Supporters are calling for a world wide 24 vigils on September 11th - 12th to begin at 8:45 AM.

by Mission Resistors

They say the universe was created by the destruction of another in a Big Bang. I know mine was destroyed and created by 2 Big Bangs. When I was 26, I was in and out of situations where I was getting free housing. My parents were going to my grandparents’ 50th wedding anniversary so I stayed at their place in Alsea, Oregon for the weekend. This place was a typical doublewide mobile home with medium brown false wood walls and burnt orange carpets. I invited my friend Jon Smyth over to watch a movie. We watched “Tomb Raider” all the way through and started “Fire Birds.” We wandered around, in and out watching the movie and doing other stuff. He went to the bathroom and wandered into my parent’s bedroom and came out with the “Hand Rifle”--my father’s .44 magnum revolver. He said, “’J’ sit down.” I looked and saw him with the gun. He repeated, “’J’ sit down.” It took me a moment to process what was going on and in the mean time the First Big Bang occurred to destroy my old universe and send things speeding in millions of directions. He had fired a warning shot across my bow. My hands went up in surprise. The shot went through my left pointer finger, the tip of my right pointer finger, opened my right middle finger at the first knuckle, and continued through my right thumb and hit the lamp on the other side of the wall. I had to look down to know all this. Again he said, “’J’ sit down.” I sat down. He walked over to the phone. I asked him, “Why are you doing this?” He answered, “Because life sucks.” In response I said, “That doesn’t mean you have to hurt me.”

“I do not intend to hurt you," he retorted.

I concluded, “You already have.”

He did not answer. I said, “I need to go to the bathroom.” He nodded as he picked up the phone to make a call. I went to the restroom and washed off my hands to see how bad they were damaged. They looked like hamburger. During the same instant I was doing this my friend was asking for a girl by name. When she answered he said, “This will teach you to mess with men’s hearts.” And then he fired one last shot. I knew this was his final act. This was the second Big Bang. As tragic as this was it was the action that started my new universe. From this point forward, things started to slow down and recoil less. I went into the front room and saw my friend laying face down on the floor in the exact position he used to sleep, in a face down fetal position. It was still so obvious that he was dead that I did not need to check for vital signs. The next thought that went through my mind was whether or not I should see if the girl was still on the phone and help her. I decided it was more important that I get help for myself. I hung up the phone and called 911. I waited for the local E.M.T. when they got there I was very grateful that I was in a small community and knew all the E.M.T.s. When they wanted to keep me talking I told them I needed to talk as little as possible so I could concentrate on keeping conscious the pain was so great. They transferred me to the main ambulance and they took me to the hospital to start my road to healing. Later when I was asked how I got though it all I could say was, “It happened, nothing I could do about it.” And that is how my new universe started.

Things like this in my life and the lives of others start hidden disabilities. These disabilities are the kind that other people that don’t have them can’t see. This is a major problem because it is these kinds of disabilities that are hardest to overcome. So it is nearly impossible to get help because nobody will admit that we are in need of help.

by Jasmine Hain, Youth Poverty Scholar/PNN

"I am my father's daughter", said Georgia Congressperson Cynthia McKinney to a standing room only crowd on a warm Sunday in August. She was at the theatre below POOR Magazine's offices in the Redstone building to speak as part of a benefit tour organized by POCC Block report radio in support of the Bay View Newspaper. She spoke on a wide range of topics from Hurricane Katrina, the murder of Oscar Grant and her struggles with the Israeli government in support of Palestine to her early life as the daughter of a another Georgia politician who spoke the truth, her father, and how he inspired her to begin her political journey.

There were many parts of her speech that evoked strong feelings of agreement and understanding in me.

When the interviewer Marcel Diallo, from Black New World asked her what or who had inspired her to venture into the world of Public Policy and Social Justice through Politics, she said that her father, ex-Georgia House member, was her driving force. When she mentioned this I couldn't help but make the connection between my mother and I. I have fought along side my mother in the political field around Welfare reform and social justice for welfare families and children. She mentioned that her many attempts to reach out to white farmers communities in Georgia were difficult if not impossible to get through due to racial tension, Cynthia McKinney being of African decent. This reminded me of when my mother and I spoke in legislative meetings in the state capitol where republican legislatures would try to avoid our topic or try to control how many representatives spoke on welfare policy from the non-profit organizations that came to speak. It reminded me of the struggles of trying to get through to another party of people who are on the other side of the spectrum and how at times both my mother and I felt very outnumbered. Later in her speech as I was thinking this, she said, "Politics changing Public Policy changes those statistics," By this point in the speech she had fully captured my attention.

She also spoke on the struggles she had faced in Gaza and the controversy and opposition she has faced with the Israeli Government. Her thoughts on the bombing ordered by George Herbert Walker Bush in Gaza are "For me this was just another example of the U.S. bombing another country where the people look like me," She had addressed the fear of conflict the government possesses pertaining to the Israeli Government and how ultimately this fear is costing peoples' lives. She stated, "Many congressmen live by fear. They are afraid of the pro Israel lobby and wait for the people to counteract them," She was able to speak from the perspective of a person who was formerly incarcerated in Gaza due to the Israeli influence and negative impact in Gaza. Her opinion on the government's neglect to change was it's impossible to turn a blind eye to murder and genocide that we are paying for and the Government is responsible for. She had, in my opinion, addressed a problem that isn't just international, but local. This is one of the main problems with public policy we deal with nationally, as well as internationally. People in office are afraid of change and conflict and sacrifice the well-being of the people in order to preserve this peace among the higher-ups.

This idea also played into the section of her interview that touched on the subject of Hurricane Katrina. She was asked what she thinks the people should do to address the neglect in New Orleans. Her response was to let the people tell their stories and struggles from their own mouths and to expose the hardship for what it really is. She said we can tell the story of what happened and we can recommend policy. This idea comes from the so-called radical idea that the people that are directly affected by public policy should be the ones creating that policy, for who would be a better representative in this case, then the victims of the hurricane. I thought that she had put a very new and revolutionary idea across to people, especially people in the political field.

Cynthia McKinney was asked about her opinion on the Murder of Oscar Grant and what her feelings were on how it was being handled by the youth, who are the primary leaders of the movement against police brutality. She said, "I can't thank the youth enough for bringing to life the murder of Oscar Grant." She spoke about how important it is for youth to rise up and take a stand up and create social change.

The most effective way to change policy is to become an elected official and create policy. When Cynthia McKinney made this comment, I felt it hit very close to home. As a youth activist, I find that it is integral for youth to create positions within the government and within the community that can create change. We need to bring back the roots of our communities as youth and create more grass roots originated policy and change. "We have to find a point of commonality", Cynthia said when the topic of non-native organizations out numbering native-run organizations in Oakland and throughout the Bay Area is addressed. I feel that the youth movement and the efforts to generate more of a community effort can be combined. Cynthia's words on her struggle with creating political change with her father, and her opinions on what is wrong with policy change today and how the youth can change those problems struck me profoundly and I hope that she continues being a revolutionary thinker in the political field.