Story Archives 2002

by Alexandra Cuff/PNN media intern

As the sun climbed higher in the July morning, the strip of shade, offered by the charcoal block of awning at the check-cashing mart on 19th and Mission, receded into the crumbling brick of the wall. When I finally moved up in line far enough so that I was inside the building, I had already been waiting on food stamps for 30 minutes. I was definitely going to be late for work. Damn, I had already spent 3 full mornings sitting in the waiting room of DHS for my GA application to be reviewed and accepted. And now, late for work again, chances are I’ll lose the job. As a child growing up in a white middle-class family on long island, I did not know poverty. The word "welfare" did not ever conjure up an image at all. It was a word maybe mentioned in a social studies class. It was a word used to describe other people. The first time I saw a food stamp was while working in a small grocery store in a poor town in North Carolina where parents would come in with lots of kids and buy a month’s worth of meat to freeze and boxes of nutritional-free cereal. I didn’t necessarily blame them for being poor – hell I was a poor (and privileged) student – but I didn’t think that I would ever be on welfare.

After my experiences in applying for welfare in San Francisco, I know well the inefficient mode of getting people help. It causes us to spend more time running around for documents, filling out paperwork than it does being out in the fresh air, taking care of children or looking for a job. Looking back, I feel like I was waiting in line for a month. Each time I felt I was getting closer and closer to the abstract castle which Kafka’s "K" is seeking out in his bureaucracy-bashing novel the Castle. I know now that this system works in machine-like inhuman ways designed to beat back those in need.

I was excited when I was assigned to cover the July 19th media briefing on welfare reform at the World Affairs Council building in downtown San Francisco. Between Gavin Newsome’s insidious plan to slash GA benefits and welfare reform up for reauthorization this year, there is a lot of unchecked power at hand that can seriously affect the poor folk both here in the Bay Area and nationwide. Even as a welfare recipient, I was not aware of the history behind the last reform nor did I know the extreme provisions being proposed by the Bush Administration this time around. I don’t think that most of us, especially those not on welfare, know the injustice and idiocy around current and possible future policy.

In 1996, Bill Clinton’s welfare reform (or welfare deform) ended Aid to Families with Dependent Children (AFDC) and introduced a block grant program called Temporary Assistance to Needy Families (TANF). The 3 most consequential changes included a five-year limit on cash aid to adults with children, a rigorous work requirement, and the elimination of benefits to legal immigrants. This did nothing to reduce the poverty or homelessness in California. There are 1000 more families on welfare in California now than there were in October 2000, an increase of almost 40 families a month. The only thing it reduced was the caseloads. A new welfare law will be passed in the next couple months and we could be looking at increased work requirements, insufficient funding for childcare, transportation, higher education and vocational training, and a new "marriage promotion" program. What will this mean for the 700 families who will hit their 5-year time limit for welfare benefits in 2003?

On Friday morning, I met with other people who are concerned with finding out the truth about how welfare reform impacts the families and communities most directly affected by these issues. The media briefing was sponsored by the Coalition for Ethical Welfare Reform, Independent Press Association, Media Alliance, Pacific News Service, and National Campaign for Jobs and Income Support. We represented women, people of color, low-income families, and grassroots organizations that are, for some reason, not part of the policy making.

It’s interesting that a country so concerned with family values and with a president who apparently thinks that government-supported marriage promotion is the end all for poverty and violence, would put childcare at the bottom of the priority list with less than $6 billion in funding for the fiscal year 2002 to be divided by 50 states!! There is a correlation between single mothers not having affordable childcare (would free childcare be too much to ask from the richest country in the world?) and not being able to make a living wage. Contrary to the mainstream view of single mothers and other welfare recipients, this is not laziness. They don’t have people to take care of their children! This could be the difference between working and leaving your babies at home alone. Elected officials will never admit it but our society simply chooses not to invest in childcare.

Star Smith loves her job. She works 20 hours a week for the Coalition on Homelessness doing outreach to families living in SROs. In 1999 she was convicted of a drug felony. After being incarcerated and going through a drug treatment program, Star gave birth to her first son. When the father of the baby left she was responsible for both earning a living as well as providing uncompensated childcare. So she applied for welfare. Welfare, a supposed income-support program designed to help if you lose your job or are otherwise financially disadvantaged and have little money left to pay rent and feed yourself and family.

For Star there is no support. Due to her history of one felony, she is banned from all welfare for the rest of her life. She works 20-hours a week advocating for and supporting other poor families in San Francisco, sells jewelry to supplement that income and supports herself and her son. She is not eligible for subsidized childcare, training or education money, HUD or section 8 housing. She even moved in with her partner upon the suggestion of her caseworker after being told she can’t make it alone. Ask Star how she feels about the current welfare system: "Try to do anything in life when the government is putting up roadblocks. I paid for my crime through the criminal justice system, I shouldn’t have to pay for it through the welfare system." As far as I’m concerned, this is a big Fuck You to working families in general.

When the briefing was over, I spoke with 22-year old Rina Phou. Rina’s family has been on welfare since they moved to the United States from Cambodia. Rina’s father is disabled and her mother stays at home to care for him. Since Rina was 12 years old, she has been working to contribute to the family income. She has been working full time since she was 14 years old to support her parents and 3 brothers who all live in a one-bedroom apartment in the Tenderloin. Education is important to Rina and although having to work full time through high school, she has maintained a 3.5 GPA. She worries though for her 2 younger brothers who are growing up and equating life with work. Her 16-year old brother wants to stay in school and play sports but he has to find work. His grades are dropping because he is looking for job. Her 12-year old brother wants to work instead of going to school. Rina is paying for her brothers’ books and clothing.

I can’t imagine having that responsibility as a 22-year old let alone a 14-year old. Rina told me, "I don’t regret anything. All this drama made me a stronger person. I learned not to feel sorry for myself." She also admits though that it was difficult going to school with other youth who did not have to work. "I felt left out but I was lucky compared to people in Cambodia which is so poor." What will Rina’s family do when their 5-year limit is up? She fears that her parents will have to find dish washing jobs or another minimum wage job.

Rina’s parents would go from not working and being poor to working, possibly endangering her father’s health and still remaining poor! Within today’s booming economy, I have english speaking friends with industrial hygiene, psychology, and computer science degrees who are unable to find work. TANF’s stringent work requirements will force welfare recipients, no longer eligible, into low-paying, part-time positions with no hope of saving money, let alone making a living wage.

According to research done by Asians and Pacific Islanders for Reproductive Health, an organization out of Oakland, CA "welfare programs do little to assist poor, Southeast Asian communities and in fact continue to trap them in poverty. Within Alameda County County, Southeast Asians are the second largest group of welfare recipients. Many Alameda County welfare offices do not provide interpretation and translation services to large Southeast Asian populations, burdening youth to interpret for their parents at welfare office visits."

In June, the Senate Finance Committee passed its welfare bill, which differs from the House of Representatives and Bush Administration proposals. The Senate Finance Committee bill proposes to maintain the 30-hour per week work requirement and will restore TANF benefits to immigrants. In contrast, the House bill which passed in May will increase the work requirements to 40-hours a week and will provide little funding for childcare and transportation. Both of these bills are still promoting marriage and two-parent family solutions to poverty.

It’s infuriating to know that the difference between some of us living on the street or in an apartment, could be decided by folks who have never known what it’s like to plan a month around a $300 check. It’s disgusting that the poor in this country are really prisoners of a system which they’ve done nothing to offend but be poor and that the actual prison system, jails themselves, take a higher priority than childcare. We need welfare that is going to do what it says.

by Liz Rodda/PNN Media intern

A wire door stood vertical to the iron numerals: 3358. Never before had a line up of two threes, a five, and an eight looked so fantastic. This, my friends, was the aftermath of incredibly bad Muni directions from a foul roommate of mine. I lapsed around the door feeling relieved and suddenly attacked by twenty pairs of eyes in my direction. I had stepped in on the weekly meeting of San Francisco Day Labor Program conducted by the enchanting Renee Saucedo. I attempted to melt into the white walls, taking a vacant seat between two men of latino descent . Renee smiled at me, continuing to exchange a rapid flow of Spanish with workers who were addressing personal crises. As the final bit of green lettering on the posted agenda was addressed, the workers stood to return to the streets.

With the recent appointment of Police Captain Gregory Corrales to the Mission Police station, the Mission District has become a very different place for these workers as well as several other very low-income residents of the Mission. Three blocks of the Mission District have been painted yellow, screaming off-limits to all "lingering" workers. They now suffer the piercing sting of Corrales policy to "clean" the Mission District. It was not long ago these workers, predominantly of Latino descent, immigrated to the Mission District, coloring the streets with incredible diversity. A Day Labor Program was founded in 1984, when the community saw the need to organize an agency that would allow workers to access city resources and find work. For the first time they were presented with the opportunity to seek literacy classes, Health Care, and agencies that provide food and clothing. The Mission streets became the place workers found either temporary or permanent jobs from visiting employers. The workers spirit began to flood the streets, expressing their new life and the adversity they had faced along the way. These Mission streets became the workers’ home and source of livelihood.

Renee’s black locks fell beside her mouth as she spilled perfect English before me. She explained how the day laborers had recently led a protest at City Hall regarding the incessant harassment they endured from police officers. "They brought him (Mayor Willie Brown) a beautiful Fathers Day card, explaining this was why they would not be having a good fathers day." Mayor Brown responded to the non-violent protest with an incredibly disturbing message for La Raza Centro Legal, the Day Labor Program’s parent organization. The program was informed that the funding for the Day Labor Program is to be put up for public bid where they will no longer receive the same city funding they have depended on for operation. Program leaders of La Raza Centro Legal were dismayed to find they would now be up against two other groups to receive any city money. With this new measure, the city appears to have completely ignored the incredible success the program has had over the past years. La Raza Centro Legal has been recognized as a model for day laborers in major cities across the nation, far exceeding the expectations of job development the city had set earlier this year. Over forty letters have been sent to the Mayor’s office in support of La Raza Centro Legal’s administration from program workers, Mission residents, and relative agencies.

I eyed a quiet man who lingered in the room, wondering how this would affect him personally. Renee agreed to translate: "Putting the program up for public funding will affect me directly. I have been a volunteer with La Raza Centro Legal for over a year and a half and work with the men on Cesar Chavez every day. We are supported by La Raza Centro Legal as it works endlessly with the Latino Community." The carefree smile Daniel Rosas had worn when I first addressed him turned dry and his eyes lost their former glow. He continued to tell me that because he has been organizing with fellow workers for many years, he has often been present in the face of serious police harassment. Even though he is supported by La Raza Centro Legal, "there is still a bald police officer that comes in a van often. He says, ‘Don’t you understand you bunch of wetbacks you can’t be on these streets?’ and continues with his obscene harsh words. I was there." His deep brown eyes probed into mine hoping I could understand. It is a strange and beautiful situation watching translation occur. I watched the words from his lips travel to Renee and miraculously become something meaningful to me. His skin was sun scorched but still had softness. "I don’t have immigration papers. I realize I have to deal with reality when it comes to the authorities. Even the bald police told us that he is on our side, but must follow orders of Police Captain Corrales and neighbors who live on the District."

Renee motioned that she was growing pressed for time as our conversation came to a rapid conclusion. "Gracias" I said to my new friend. He smiled and returned a few words in Spanish. He gestured to ask if he could walk me to the bus stop. I turned to wave a grateful goodbye to Renee, as she parted with a friend in the opposite direction. Although Daniel and I could not communicate in words there was a speechless communication that occurred between us. He handed me a leaflet written in Spanish with his picture on the front amongst other day laborers. "Me", he said, pointing to his image and the text he had written in the body of the paper. The bus lurched up with an impatient sigh as I shook his hand, reluctant to say goodbye so suddenly. He waved me off until we might meet again. I sat back in my bus seat wondering where he would be returning to and how he would face the tremendous political battles ahead of him.

by Connie Lu/for Courtwatch and PNN

I meet Michelle Howard in the common room at POOR
Magazine. There are several simultaneous sounds of
loud and distracting conversations busily whirling
about the entire room. Our voices are muffled despite
the attempt to speak above the ambient noise, so we
decide to move to a more quiet room. The couch we are
sitting on is old, but comfortable. But most
importantly, I am now able to focus my attention on
Michelle. Her hair consists of intricate braids that
are beautifully gathered together on the top of her
head. Her deep brown eyes remain looking down at the
papers in her hands most of the time because she is
nervous about the interview. But the few times she
looks up into my eyes, I could see the glassy
reflection from the tears in her eyes as she begins
describing the photos of her daughter. At this point,
my arm is already becoming sore from holding the
microphone up to her mouth. However, as she continues
to tell her painful and frustrating experience of CPS
(Child Protective Services) taking her daughter away,
I begin to forget the pain in my arm and focus upon
the pain in her heart.

C: "Can you tell me your name and begin describing
your situation with CPS?"

MH: "My name is Michelle Howard. I'm coming in
concern of my daughter Alexis, who is in the custody
of the state CPS (Child Protective Services) workers.
I'm coming because nobody seems to want to listen to
the voice of my child, Alexis. She's been in custody
for 17 months now. During that period Alexis was kept
out of school when she was taken from me from the
hospital for three months. I went to the hospital
because my mother had just died and I was upset. I
was crying and plus I was physically hurting from
stress. My back was also hurting. Then when I came
out from talking with the doctor; my daughter had been
removed by the CPS workers. From there, she went to
three different foster homes. She was really abused
in one of them by the CPS. She was mentally abused.
They were asking her questions about "Has your mother
ever hit you? Has your mother ever abused you?"

C: "Why did they take her?"

MH: "They did not say at that point in time. They
never asked if I had a relative that she could stay
with. They just took her and put her in a foster
home."

C: "And this was a couple of months ago?"

MH: "No, this was on November 11th of 2000. Ok, then
they went all into my background, my history and said
that my background was the reason why they took
Alexis, even though me and Alexis were doing good
together. My daughter has never been abused of any
kind. She always had food and everything, but when I
see my daughter when they let me visit her. Alexis
had been mentally and physically abused.
She would tell me things on the phone like, "Mommy, my
body is hurting. Somebody is messin' with my body at
night." So I reported this to the CPS worker. They
said that they would look into it. They never got
back to me. Then they would put it to where my
daughter and I could not talk to each other on the
phone."

C: "You have every right to talk to your daughter."

MH: "But then I started getting like verbally abusive
with them of course, because I was finding out that
they were not checking on my daughter in the foster
homes as much as they could. My daughter would tell me
some little children that were in there were
physically touching on her privacy. I have pictures
of scars and scratches on her. I have a picture of
her with a ringworm in her head.

C: "Can you tell me more about the pictures?"

MH: "She was in one of the foster homes. A picture
tells a thousand words. She had a ring-worm and
that's her hair growing back (photo) from the
ring-worms she had. You can't see but she had
scratches and when I told the lawyer that they
appointed to me he said, "Well how do I know that it
didn't come from you?" You know, insulting me like
that."

C: "This is the back?"

MH: "And this is her back, she had scratches on her
back."

C: "I can see the scars."

MH: "Scars, a picture tells a thousand words.

C: "That's sad."

MH: "Even though I told her to smile when I was
taking pictures of her, she remained sad, real sad.
That's a picture of me and her. She smiled a little
bit, but she's still upset. I also had pictures when
Alexis hollered and screamed at the social service
building where I had to be supervised to see my child
which I could never understand, why I had to be
supervised."

C: "You couldn't be alone with your child?"
MH: "Yes."

C: "Someone had to be there?"

MH: "Someone had to be there, but then they stick her
in a stranger's home and let strangers keep my baby.
When I asked them if she could she come live with a
relative that I knew for years, they told me, "No, she
had to be with a licensed foster person." I kept
telling them, "You know, y'all doing something to my
daughter here. Y'all mentally abusing her. Why don't
y'all let my baby come home and supervise my child at
my house? They refused to do that."

C: "How can you tell she was being mentally abused?"

MH: "Because Alexis was very sad. She would breakdown
every time she saw me. She would say, "Mommy, Mommy, I
want to come home. Mommy please let me come home.
Mommy, please let me come home." She was specifically
telling them. When she told them, they would tell her
things about me and say, "It's your mother's fault
that you couldn't go home."

C: "Why did they tell her that?"

MH: "They just righteously lied to my baby. When my
baby tried to tell them my mama didn't hit me, they
said my baby said that I hit her with my fist. I
would never do that to my child." But they still kept
my child. I'm a type of person that when it gets to
the last point I get angry because you're mentally
abusing my child. I'm wondering every day and night
what's going to happen to my child? I'm asking them,
"Why did you take my child in the first place?" My
child wasn't abused when you picked her up in the
hospital."

C: "Was she was going to school?"

MH: "She was going to school, but they kept her out
for three months. She knew how to write her name.
She knew her ABC's at four. At three and a half she
was in preschool. But as she stayed in the foster
home, Alexis forgot how to write her name. Alexis
forgot her ABC's. She's seven years old and she's
going to the second grade. They're passing her along,
but Alexis is behind. She's very behind in school. It
breaks my heart because they told my daughter that if
I came to school to pick her up or if I came anywhere
near her without them knowing, then I would be
arrested and go to jail for three years. But when my
daughter stayed with the foster parents, she was
getting abused by a lady, who was screaming and
hollering at my baby while I was talking to her on the
phone. I reported it. They said they were going to
check into it, but they never did. So my daughter
became scared of the foster parents to the point that
when they abused her, she wouldn't say anything
because the CPS workers had told my daughter that if I
came anywhere near her, I would go to prison for three
years. So that's why she stopped telling me anything
about abuse or mental abuse. That's mental abuse when
you tell a child that if your mother comes anywhere
near you, she's going to jail. You know, it's just
getting to me. They're still holding my daughter."

C: "Did you talk to the foster parents? Are they
denying it?"

MH: "Of course they're gonna deny it. Not only do
they deny it, but they also think that I'm mentally
disturbed. Anybody would be mentally disturbed if they
go for help and come back to find their daughter gone.
They tell me that I need to be on medication because
I get angry a lot. Of course I'm angry. The CPS
workers walked into the hospital and took my child. I
was just seeking help because my mother had died. I'm
here to let you know about my daughter. All her
rights have been taken. She has told them, "I want to
be with my mommy." They won't let her be around me
without supervision. I don't understand this system.
I don't understand CPS. I'll do anything to help
anybody who has been through my situation. These
people are very evil."

C: "So, right now you still don't have your daughter
with you?"

MH: "No, she's still in Foster Care. She's with a
person that I call a relative because we know each
other. I get to see her more though."

C: "Do you have any sort of future plan of action
now?"

MH: "No, they have appointed lawyers for me, but the
lawyers seem more against my child and me. It's not
about me. It's about Alexis being mentally disturbed.
All the things they said in the past about me to my
daughter are not true and my baby knows it's not true.
It's making her all messed up in her head."

C: "She's just all confused right now."

MH: "She's very confused. I'm really trying to be a
voice for her because nobody else in the system seems
to want to listen to the child."

C: "And how old is she?"

MH: "She's seven now. The foster parents are
strangers to my daughter. She doesn't get the love she
needs.

C: "I'm sure your daughter knows that you love her."
MH: "Yeah, I love her very much. She knows I've never
abused her.

C: "Thank you so much for sharing your story."

MH: "Thank you. I hope this interview can help others
as well."

After listening to what Michelle and her daughter
suffered through, I am reminded that there is a
certain unexplainable, yet truly unbreakable bond that
a mother shares with her children. A powerful bond of
love that is able to withstand and endure the
destructive separating tactics of CPS. Their love for
each other is what gives them the hope for
reunification.

*************************************************

Open Letter to Rebecca from Michelle

Dear Rebecca,

I thank God for someone like you. I've been praying
for this time to come. Sorry for what has happened to
you and your children I know nothing can change the
damage that has been done, but God. Healing,
forgiving, and trust are violated when you and your
loved ones (your children) have been hurt so badly by
a system we were raised to trust and believe in.

My little girl was taken from me and she was kept out
of school for over three months. She was mentally and
physically abused by the CPS workers, people they
placed her with, and other children. Because my
daughter wanted to come home, she would get
abused by the other children that the foster person
would leave her with.

When I reported this to the CPS, they would punish me
and my daughter by keeping us apart. Sometimes I
would not get to see my daughter. Our visits were
always supervised, as if they had a real reason to say
I was a harm to my daughter. My child lived with
strangers (Foster Care) for over a year. Most of the
time she was not check on, as I would have liked and
as often as she should have been by the CPS worker.
When I was seeing my daughter she would have scars on
her back, face, and legs. She would tell me how they
got there and I would report it. Once again my
daughter and I would be punished for telling too much.
Sometimes they would not let her speak to me on the
phone. I would call, but they wouldn't let her return
my calls. Sometimes I wouldn't get my visits because
I was told I'm calling my daughter too much.

I'm going to stop here because it gets very painful to
continue. I have always believed that CPS was meant be
a good industry, but it turned bad. I hope and pray
that you and your children be compensated for what
happened.

Thank you and God bless Rebecca.

by Aldo Arturo Della Maggiora

Melida Andrade (Ma ma) was born in Born 1902 in Cojutepeque, El Salvador, a country of volcanoes. Ma ma Melida came from a poor family. During this era the country was not very populated and their economy was fair. My Great Grand Mother did not know how to read or write, nor did she attend school. At that time going to school was a privilege for those who could afford it.

Ma ma was the oldest daughter of Catalina Delgado and Salvador (a military general). She had two brothers and a sister. The oldest brother was Estevan,11, the youngest brother was Atilio, 10, and Lidia, at 4 years old, was the youngest in the family.

In 1914, Ma ma Melida’s mother, Catalina passed away at age 38. Prior to my Great Great, Great, Grand Mother Catalina’s death, she had already separated from her husband. Ma ma Melida was only 12 years old; left to care for Estevan, Atilio and Lidia. Ma ma Melida went to live with her Grand Mother Benita Carrillo v. (view da) de Delgado. Estevan ran away from the family. My Great Grand Ma said that she tried to track him down but could not find him. Suffering from the frustration of losing a brother and not being able to afford medication for her mother, dying of a fever, she promised to herself that she would come out of poverty with her family. That was her turning point.

Finding herself at the age of 12 years old left with the responsibility to raise her brother and sister, Ma ma Melida wasted no time in vain conversation. Her conversations, were all about business and no more than that. She focused on looking and speaking proper so that she would not be outcast from the cream of society. She had an attitude that she was the queen and only interested in business. She used this attitude in society and in her family so that nobody could put her down. She did not let anybody in, because she understood the nature of envy and how personal history was used to minimize others; to interfere with the business or goals one had in life.

She earned her respect and everyone she worked with saw that this women was a hard worker, had self-determination and dignity.

Her strong character came from the fact that she had to confront life at an early age. She had the knowledge of "No meter la pâté" (to be proper) among the wealthy, intellectual, business community. Through listening and observing she learned to behave and survive amongst the privileged society. She graduated from the University of life.

It is believed that after the death of my Great, Great, Great Grand Mother, Ma ma Melida got involved in prostitution to be able to send money back to her grandmother to feed her brothers and sister and build the capital necessary to start her liquor business. From time to time, Ma ma Melida also got paid to breast feed other children, which was customary in El Salvador.

In El Salvador police were known for tattooing prostitutes with a serial number. My uncle was aware that my Great Grand Mother had a numerical tattoo on her shoulder, hidden behind two tattooed hearts; which she never showed anyone. Other than this information no one talked much about this subject within the family circle, and people that knew, did not speak about it, for respect.

At about age 19 Ma ma Melida started her liquor business. She traveled with local merchants who knew her. The barrels of liquor Ma ma Melida bought were transported on mules to different town fairs throughout El Salvador.

Once she arrived into town she would set up a tent both to promote the liquor she sold. Since she was on the road all the time the tents were convenient to sleep under after a long day of work. Ma ma Melida carried a 38 caliber with her as a means of defense. She would not let anyone take advantage of her. These town fairs would last up to three days, where local officials, business owners and town’s people would show up throughout El Salvador. There was music, dancing, food, and vendors.

As Ma ma Melida’s business began to flourish, she helped set up a barbershop for Atilio. but due to his alcoholism his business failed. He became a shoe shiner as well as a shoe repairer on the street. He lived in run down Mesones. (hotels) Other times he found himself in the streets when he could not afford the Mesones. Ma ma Melida tried hard to help him but Atilio gave up, she had to learn how to let her brother go, because no matter how much money she would give him he would always spend it on alcohol. Lidia received money from Ma ma Melida and opened two cantinas. Although Lidia’s business did well the hardships of a bad relationship resulted in her becoming bankrupt. Her unhealthy relationship lead to the mismanagement of her business. Lidia lost her business and house. She had seven children who were grown up by that time.

By this time Ma ma Melida had two children Arturo and Soli. She bought a house in Sensuntepeque and eventually bought 16 houses where she rented to people and established cantinas selling liquor. Sensuntepeque was a rural area and property was inexpensive

Being the new, single women with her siblings, in town and establishing businesses and homes attracted the envy of one woman who was known well in town for her business success. She took Ma ma Melida to court complaining that the cantinas were not good for the town. Eventually Ma ma Melida got tired of going to court and decided to sell all her property and businesses. She collected all her money and moved to the capital, San Salvador. She never gave up on her dreams. She bought a house and established her first cantina, later establishing more cantinas. Her husband Manuel Andrade opened two grocery stores.

As her business grew stronger, sooner then later, she was able to present herself to the De Stileria la Central and another company Ilopania at the time who made Flor de Cana.and Espiritu de Cana. She became a wholesale buyer of the production and National Drink called Espiritu de Cana, which is the spirit coming from the sugar cane and Flor de Cana, meaning flower of sugar cane. She was the #1 distributor for the whole country.

Mama Melida bought almost 90% of the production of both companies in cash. Both companies gave her the lowest discount, about 30 percent. The remaining production these two companies had were sold at a 15% discount; where as my Great Grand Mother was able to move the industry of liquor by selling her production at 12% discount. She sold to small towns, big cities, cantinas, grocery stores, etc.

She was recognized by Banko Salvadoreno run by Don Luis Escalante. Don Luis Escalante later on decided to open his own bank named Banko Agricola Comercial, the strongest bank in El Salvador. He ask her to transfer all her capital into his bank and offered to give her the most interest on her capital.

After 7 to 10 years of working in business Ma ma Melida contracted a designer and architect to design a big house for her whole family to move in. Her son, Pa Pa Arturo became an economist for the United Nations, representing Central, South America and the Caribbean Islands. He married my GrandMother, Lotty Lara, an educator. My grand parents had 4 children. Being that my Grand Father had children with different women, a divorce was inevitable.

My Great Grand Ma loved her grand children but she was on her son’s side and her dream of having a family dynasty washed away when my grandfather had his wife and children leave the house, with no money.

In the 1980’s Ma ma Melida came to America asking for forgiveness to the family on my mothers behalf. She asked my mother to go to her funeral to represent the rest of the family. My Great Grand Ma passed away January 13, 1981.

Ma ma Melida always meant business and wanted to produce more money. She received capital gain, prestige, gifts, power, and recognition in society. Unfortunately her liquor business exploited her people, whose life hopes became a bottle of alcohol and each generation repeated that same cycle. This is the price my Great Grand Mother had to pay to live well off and make it amongst the economic, political, and business elites.

.

In the case of my Great Grand Mother it was her ambition that created her accomplishments as well as her downfalls, unfortunately she could not confront the aspect of her life that contributed to exploiting her people as well as her family. Bad decisions caved in her dreams of having a united family. Hopefully the next generation won’t repeat the same mistake.

by Staff Writer

Glints of Fire

Leap onto the Pavement

"no Justice No Peace"

She turns Words -

into a river

washing the lost tears

of gentrified

communities

and forgotten people

into a knife of resistance

As long as she speaks,

Thinks

and dreams

we are safe

Boona cheema, human rights and economic justice activist for
the protection of civil and human rights of the homeless
and Executive Director of Building Opportunities for
Self-Sufficiency (BOSS)

by Jewnbug

Rita preferred Rene

daddy left early in da game

poverty brands fate

housin authority interrogatez

beaten wit word of painz

petite ebony stands stained

bold mental frame

focuses on wut she needs 2 gain

no helpin… parents strung out

belt weltin… screams

she dug route, wit slender midnight claws

articulated jawz

chilled outsyde da skool walls

fallz

in arms of no goodz man

shackin up pit in stomachs erupts plans

escapes again

fleein da scene… flesh. spirit. seed.

blessed young laydee continues 2 read

b tween lines conscious of tymes

she perservers not yieldz

turnz obstaclez in 2 wheelz of steel

stackin developing skillz

2 succeed in competitive field

spills her guts

bandages cuts

buildz friendship

suppresses luv

breaks stereotypes up

gives birth 2 Afrikan, Puerto Rican,

Pinay princesses

braids hair

backs bone

makes family builds home

bi barely makin endz meet

she iz Mama, daughter, sistah, niece!

by Joe B.

An Anti-Eviction Protest For Grace Wells

Its Saturday, July, 27, 2002.

An eviction picket will happen in front of long time resident Mrs., Grace Well, 85, quietly fighting to stay in her adopted City and neighborhood.

It could be for her, a final stay before enjoying peace, with the Eternal, old friends, loved ones on infinities shore where everyone lives a stress-less existence in mansions of foreverness.

On its face its a greedy landlord out to make tons of cash.

But as Kaponda would tell me "Don’t jump to conclusions, reason it out, get the facts straight, then write your news item without bias."

Up early, brain and belly starved for food, of water and after washing then brushing sleep from body and teeth leave a still warn bed for Poor’s office.

After saying hi to Lisa, pick up my assignment from a hard copied email along with a PNN POOR NEWS NETWORK
sign showing are support; so much for the objectivity factor.

I rush to my S.R.O.(Single Room Only or Occupancy) for extra tapes, batteries in case the interview is longer.

The number 6 bus heads toward Divisidereo and Page Streets, there’s a feeling of something missing but Ignore the-back-of-mind-nag sensation concen- trating on Mrs.

Wells and her concerns. This means not being late.

The strategy:leave early, interview Mrs. Grace Wells, protesters and be back at St. Anthony’s in time for lunch.

10:46 am just off the bus, at the Divisidero & Page intersection sitting on a street curb as a NBC-3 news van passed drove by me.

Besides light blue skies and clouds only threatening a brighter day dripping sunshine.

On both sides of this quiet street are black lettering on daisy yellow signs boldly insisting "Don’t Evict Grace Wells"

A quiet area, trees lined up neatly on both sides of the street its it would be difficult to know anyone was fighting eviction.

Most cars are parked row on row with only a few slanted toward traffic.

It’s so bird chirping, adult and child strolling, walking, toddlers in their carriages, bike rider’s breathe-glistening-clean-air-surreal–quiet here.

Walking down the street I found the building where Mrs. Wells for now and hopefully later will still live.

Mrs. Wells lives in a two story dwelling called a flat with another next door neighbor number 910 to the left of Mrs. Wells I don’t know who lives there.

Mr. Ted, Gullicksen, of the Tenants Union with a friend are making protest signs with blue, black and other colorful magic markers. Mr. Gullicksen tells me NBC-3 and other news crews will be interviewing Mrs. Grace Wells in her residence. Mr. Gullicksen, and another person they I’ll interview first.

First is Mr. Arnold Cohn. Who began telling me about a scam by owners.

AC:"The Capital Improvement scam; I live a Marina Cove and Presidents of Marina Cove and Lombard Place have been targeted to have to pay multi million dollar Capital Improvements on the landlords building-and if someone would want to look into the detail of this how the city’s own laws have been violated and yet the rent board has approved these capital improvements petitions.

Its somewhat of a detailed story that would take more than just a conversation, on a sidewalk, in the morning.

PM:"Well…"

AC:"But if you have the time sometime, and you want to make…"

PM: "I may not have the time but I know but there others who may.

Oh, I need your name."

AC:"My name is Arnold Cohn C-O-H-N and my telephone number’s 567-4856. And then the other person from Lombard Place is named Laraine Kal or Cal-Cagney [if I’m in error spelling Ms. Laraine’s last name, sorry] her telephone number is 345-8529.

We are the ones… or We can arrange for people to give you complete details on this "capital improvement scam and to summarize it what it means is there’s a loophole in the rent control law that as wide as a two ton truck and that the a landlord has to do is spend money.

Whether or not it improved the building, it could only be gold platting the building but if the landlord spends money, the tenants have to pay for that’s in essence."

This is not the end there is more Mr. Cohn wanted to say.

PM:"Detailed invoices?"

AC:"And cancelled checks, for the money they’ve spent.

Well, the landlord for Lombard Place merely submitted one cancelled check and one bill from a contractor that in now way can be verified and the rent board accepted that; and it say right in the rent boards rules and regulations they are suppose to have detailed bills and cancelled checks."

PM: "Sounds like there’s money being made under the table."

AC: "Something really scandalous there."

PM: "Thank you very much,I think I will be able to get other people on this."


The Second Interview is with Mr. Ted, Gullicksen, of the Tenants Union.

By this time another news crew has gone inside for an interview with Mrs. Grace Wells. Here is what Mr. Ted Gullicksen had to say.

PM: "Gullicksen, I got to say this right, Gullicksen, Gullicksen. I have think of seagulls."

TG: "Exactly."

PM: "So what has happened so far?"

TG: "What’s happening here is that Grace Wells is 85 years old, has lived in her home for thirteen years and lived in this neighborhood in over
forty years is being evicted under the Ellis Act from her home here by an out of state landlord who owns a bunch of rental properties in San Francisco.

Who would like to convert Grace’s three unit apartment building, into one big single family home-mansion we call it.

So that this landlord who’s affiliated with Zephyr Reality can turn around and sell the building to some rich person and they don’t care what will happen to grace.

They just ‘wanna turn her home into a mansion and sell it and make lots of money."

PM: "Make more money, so its all economic."

TG: "All economic, they don’t care whatsoever about Grace and where Grace will go. Grace is disabled, she has social security for income, its here sole income.

There’s absolutely no place that Grace can go in San Francisco. So will be thrown out of her home with nowhere to go."

PM: "Thank you, very much."

TG: "Sure." My Third and last interview is with Mrs. Grace Wells in her home at 908 on Divisidero and Page Streets.


Mrs. Grace Wells is small, brown black woman and frail sitting across in hair chair.

I want to be as gentle not tiring her because yet another news crew will be interviewing her again.

PM: "I don’t know what to ask you, the news teams already asked most of the questions; I was going to ask you about relatives if you got any letters, telegrams, from other people, relatives, friends, that heard about this and trying to help sending money orders or something like that?"

GW:" No."

PM: " Oh."

PM: "Should have a campaign towards that."

PM: "I’m with Poor Magazine, I guess we’re a news paper too.

Newspaper and the internet and also a hard copy book that comes out once a year ‘cause we don’t have enough money."

GW: "Here, San Francisco?"

PM: "Oh, we’re based in San Francisco but our reach is kind of… a, global, we’re on the net too."

GW: " Oh, yeah."

PM: "I can’t think of any questions to ask. I’m suppose to be…"
Ed, taking photo’s of Mrs. Wells, and the house helps with more confusion.

Ed: "I can’t believe Joe is speechless, I’m not making you nervous."

PM: "No, not you, I’m thinking about my grandmother, I’m thinking about my mother and I’m thinking about myself… And all I can think of is a Co-op where people actually own the building-in-common.

Ed: "I don’t know Joe, that sounds like Communism

PM: "Social Capitalism that’s what I call it."

Ed: "Good for you there you go."

PM:" But I hope you keep fighting this and as long as many people start
knowing about this because this has been happening to other people and its not gonna… your not the only one. And it seems they want to get rid of the elderly first because you know more history, you know some secrets, and its elderly first then the single ones, then they get rid of families and before you know it; its just a bunch of empty buildings. That’s my take on it.

PM: "Has anyone else been moved out?"

GW: "No, the landlady, it was just the two of us lived here. The landlady lived upstairs had passed and then they bought it. It was just the two of us."

PM: "That’s another thing gotta have more people."

Ed: "Yeah, well I’m gonna go outside and take a couple more pictures."

PM: "I think I’m done, I’ve done Gullicken and someone else."

GW: "Thank you."

PM: "I want them to pay, I want them to pay a whole lot because you’ve been a great tenant and its just money, greed, they have enough money. Its just greed."

G.W: "More money, I guess that’s what keeps the world turning."

Ed: "Yeah, but it shouldn’t be you know, it should be something from the heart. We’ll do our best to keep fighting for you so, nice to meet you."

PM: "Bye."

GW: "Bye."

With that I leave quiet, frail, Mrs. Grace Wells with no place to go if she’s forced out of her long time residence. I’m glad the other media showed what some outside owner was displacing to hoard more dough than they need. Two of Poor’s newest interns have picket signs talking to each other. Andy, is tall, well mannered, and curious.
The young woman standing is a petite, red haired, heart faced, her eyes darting everywhere. These two standing still seem to vibrate and blurred to me or is it my energy level is a notch or two lower than their’s.

Outside Mr. Gullicksen is on a bullhorn speaking up for Mrs. Grace Wells.

"Does everyone have a chat sheet?"

Just so people know… I think everyone knows why we’re here but what’s happening is we have a woman here.

Grace Wells is here, 85 years old, has lived in this home for thirteen years, has lived in this neighborhood for three decades.

She’s being evicted by an out of state landlord.

A woman by the name of Junk Croucher who owns a bunch of a bunch of apartment buildings in San Francisco and is evicting Grace under the Ellis Act.

She wants to turn this three unit apartment into a mansion. She wants to turn this into a mansion so she can sell it for multi million dollars to someone wealthy who doesn’t care what they buy or where Grace ends up.

Grace is disabled, her only income is social security, she has absolutely no where to go.

This is an eviction that we want to stop and if you look around the neighborhood you’ll see signs in various windows saying "Stop

This Eviction" The neighbors have been rallying behind Grace and calling the landlord and saying "We Don’t Want People Like You Moving Into Our Neighborhood, We Don’t Want People Like You evicting a woman like Grace Wells who are a basic component of the neighborhood."

People who have made this neighborhood who are now being kicked out in the name of Gentrification.

" It was now I remember the slight nagging something.

I have left the Poor sign at home laying comfortably on my bed in my apartment.

I left my brown leather backpack so I’d have to return to the protest.

I went to the bathroom, then my room, drank some water, picked up my sign and back on another number 6 bus to the protest.

It was over by the time I got back.

Ed is leaving, I was about to hop on a bus to get back to St. Anthony’s for a free lunch but Andy, myself and the young woman [her name escapes me momentarily] are going to lunch at …
again [the name of the restaurant escapes me momentarily]

The food, smoothy, bread and butter is both a solid and liquid ambrosia to a starving, thirsty man and was worth the walk down a [street/avenue who names yet again escapes me momentarily]

I’m beginning to feel like the former "Quantum Leap" guy with his Swiss Cheese Mind as he travels within his own lifetime.

After the meal we separate soon I’m on a bus going back to Market
Street.

I realize the sign from Poor Magazine is in the restaurant I forgot the name of.

I’ll get it back if I can but for now I’m full, no longer thirsty and my assignment is now over.

I hope Mrs. Grace Wells keeps her residence until ultimate peace finds her and not thrown out on hot or cold streets to die alone, in pain, with no one to comfort and watch over her. Bye…

by Ace Tafoya/PoorNewsNetwork Community Journalist

Tiffic is a 16 year old African-American high school student living in the Bay Area. As he took the stage at the "Silence Is Violence – Youth Rally Against The War Abroad…And The War On Youth At Home" at the Oakland Civic Center/Frank Ogawa Plaza this past Saturday, September 14th to tell his story of being racially profiled by police, I had an uneasiness feeling. I thought about Mumia Abu-Jamal being locked up in a federal prison for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Racial profiling by people with badges is really common for people of color.

"I was harassed by police while walking home from school," Tiffic announced on stage as a cool breeze mixed with a warm sunshine surrounded downtown Oakland. The diverse crowd, estimated at 500 fell silent and listened to him tell us what it feels like to be stopped and questioned and handcuffed by police.

Mario Yedidia, Alicia Yang and Betsy Merzenich of Global Exchange hoped for a positive turnout of the program being sponsored in part by Salesforce.com/Foundation. Spoken Word, dancing, DJ’s, hip hop, activism and unity were all a part of the show. "It’s an event against the war on youth at home domestically, specific issues of police brutality and concerns of the extra added 100 police cops on the streets of Oakland," Mario Yedidia related to me before the event started. He is concerned about Oakland Mayor Jerry Brown’s initiative Measure FF being passed on the ballot this election year, as well as foreign policy, "The people who are dying around the world, whether it be here in Oakland, whether it be in Kabul, or it be in Baghdad are usually young people and people with darker skin pigmentation," he voiced to me with great concern.

Local spoken word artist Candice Wicks performed her self penned "Still a Strange Fruit" a very moving piece incorporating such songs as "Killing Me Softly (With His Song)", "Get Here", and "Strange Fruit". "Curve" was performed by San Francisco spoken word artist Badru Akim with special pride and imagination. Dancers Without Boarders, a dance group used drum, dance and voice to music to perform "Somebody…Else. Hate Crimes and Survival as Seen Through The Bodies of Women".

"This is beautiful," The Opposite from ‘Greens’, the hip-hop artists, told the crowd before leading them all to raise their hands up and give a piece sign. "This is what it’s all about!" Samantha and Venus from ‘Pueblo’ urged all to vote no on Measure FF. "We need jobs now, not more police," Samantha shouted to the lively crowd. And among others, Colored Ink performed a skit relating to schools and how bad the educational system is here.

This rally was meant to provoke meaning and understanding of young people from all backgrounds to listen to messages surrounding harassment, racial profiling, discrimination, and other important issues that our government deals out on a daily basis.
We were encouraged to speak out, get active and be heard! Tyren McElwee, 24, a spoken word artist/performer agreed with most others when he said, "This rally is very important…The public is saying we don’t want to go to war with Iraq, we don’t want to be in Afghanistan."

I, along with Monty Williams who is a Vietnam Veteran were extremely impressed by these young artists view on life during wartime. "I think it’s good that the kids are speaking out, getting their voices heard. It reminds me of the times when young people were protesting the Vietnam war during the 60’s," Williams, 47, said while listening to a performance by Deuce Eclipse.

I kept thinking all along that BART ride back into the foggy city how talented and special these young people are. All of the acts that performed that crystal clear afternoon, and there were over 20 of them, knew their position on the world today and how injustices are and how it’s unfair of politicians using young people to win votes. Even Mayor Jerry Brown tried to throw off the crowd with a sidewalk appearance. But too bad, Mr. Mayor. These kids were ahead of the game and they didn’t let you stop them from getting their message heard! Power to the People! Especially the young people.

by Morgan W. Brown

If "home is where one hangs one's hat," where does a person who is living
homeless hang their hat?

When a person hangs their hat someplace temporarily, are they no longer
considered truly homeless even if, in fact, it is not really their home?

It is ironic that amid this nation of plenty, many are forced to live on the
fringes of society, where homelessness can mean having only hope to hang
one's hat upon.

Being homeless myself, I know well how the smallest items of hope are always
held onto very tightly. Just like one's own sense of dignity, self-respect,
pride -- which are equally cherished and held close, such hope can often
prove useful and even vital in the long journey being undertaken just in
managing to survive as well as living independently.

These core parts of one's self can also be key to what is needed to help
find, obtain and then move into some form of safe, decent and affordable
housing of one's own; which is an essential part of what is needed to end
homelessness.

As near as it may be to my becoming housed once again, after being homeless
in its various forms for five years this time around, one would think
nothing could easily stand in my way. Yet, there are many moments when it
seems too daunting and so very far away to be accomplished on one's own.

There are those days, and even weeks, which do not seem to pass by without a
severe and persistent need to find and renew hope, inner strength as well as
faith in everything.

When I came across a fine choice of hats to take my pick from a couple
months ago, that slowly began to change however.

Not being much in the way of a hat wearer by nature or habit, I was struck
with a feeling of surprise along with a sense of mystery about the need
compelling me to try on the hat which my eyes lit upon. As I tried it on
further, it dawned on me that a hat was needed more than had been previously
realized.

Once more I was reminded that whatever the circumstances or, how they are
experienced and felt, there are always other ways of thinking about them and
other methods of accomplishing something when it is waited for a little
while longer and, what is sought is looked for even deeper than we may
believe is possible and, the support needed to do so is received.

Just as crucial though, the value of the smallest or seemingly least
important thing to provide inspiration should never be underestimated;
usually found in what we may perceive to be the most unlikely of places or
persons, especially when it is needed the most.

Never again will I discount the value and importance of a hat.

Having a hat of such good quality as this one is, means I will have to work
even harder to find a home in which to hang my new headwear.

When I do find and move into a place of my own, the hat will be hung where
it can be grabbed at ease when needed. Mine will be worn with pride no
matter how well worn it may get over time. Then, whenever it is off of my
head and in its usual resting place, I will know I am home.

It will be my lasting reminder to never, ever, give up on anything or
anybody -- and, most importantly, never on myself.

Morgan W. Brown is living homeless in Montpelier Vermont.

======================================

NAtional Websites on Homelessness and solutions

* Who is Homeless?; NCH Fact Sheet #3;
Published by the National Coalition for the Homeless, February 1999:
http://www.nationalhomeless.org/who.html

* The McKinney Act; NCH Fact Sheet #18;
Published by the National Coalition for the Homeless, April 1999:
http://www.nationalhomeless.org/mckinneyfacts.html

* Poverty Versus Pathology: What's "Chronic" About Homelessness;
National Coalition for the Homeless, February 2002:
http://www.nationalhomeless.org/chronic/full.html

* Time for a Common Sense Policy on Homelessness:
by Martha R. Burt; Shelter Force Online, March/April 2002 edition (National
Housing Institute); Washington News & Views section:
http://www.nhi.org/online/issues/122/WN&V.html

* What Will It Take To End Homelessness?;
by Martha R. Burt; September 2001:
http://www.urban.org/housing/homeless/end_homelessness.html

* NAEH: The Ten Year Plan to End Homelessness;
National Alliance to End Homelessness:
http://www.endhomelessness.org/pub/tenyear/index.htm

* Affordable Housing: Who Needs Affordable Housing?;
Community Planning & Development; HUD:
http://170.97.67.13/offices/cpd/affordablehousing/index.cfm

* National Housing Trust Fund Campaign:
http://www.nhtf.org

by Connie Lu/PNN Media Intern

The sky is overcast and gray in San Francisco's Golden
Gate Park, where the "Access to Essential Medicines
EXPO" Exhibit is being held. There is an overall
melancholy ambience without the warmth and presence of
the sun's light, but at the same time, the cool breeze
against my face is a refreshing breath of air. There
are several people sitting on the grass and steps
enjoying the music from a nearby event as well.

I make my way towards a long tractor-trailer. But
before entering, I am instructed to spin a wheel with
several bright colors called, the "Wheel of
Misfortune" to determine which disease I would be
specifically learning about at the exhibit. The
needle points to a dark purple color, which indicates
a sleeping disease (Trypanosomiasis) in Africa. I am
given a laminated purple card with information about
sleeping disease.

The information on the card is not presented simply as
a straight list of facts, but it is written in a
narrative format. The narration has a more impacting
effect on me because I am learning about the disease
by associating a personal account to an actual person
and a photo of her face, as opposed to facts that are
not linked to the victims themselves. The card
describes the personal experience of an Ugandan woman
name, Bianga and how she acquires the sleeping
disease. While Bianga is in the process of getting
water, she is bitten by a tsetse fly, which transmits
the sleeping disease parasite into her body.

After reading how Bianga is infected with the sleeping
disease, I proceed to enter the exhibit inside the
48-foot tractor-trailer. Inside the trailer, the
lighting is dim and there are recorded sounds of
conversations playing in the background. The
conversations seem like they are taking place in a
busy market place or village. The laughter of young
children can also be quietly heard at times. However,
the clear, distinct ticking sound of a clock begins to
drown out the voices because of its sharp, rhythmic
pattern. I begin to wonder the origin and purpose
behind the ticking because it was being played at such
an intentionally audible volume.

I begin reading the display matching the color of the
purple card in my hand about sleeping disease. It
continues as a narrative about the progressive
worsening symptoms of the infected victim. During the
first stage of sleeping disease, Bianga begins feeling
weak. However, after 10 months her condition
drastically declines as the parasite travels through
her cerebral spinal fluid to invade her brain. At
this point, the symptoms vary from sleep disturbances,
mental illness, convulsions, erratic behavior, and
eventually falling into a coma of death.

Several black and white photos of the victims are also
next to the text on the display. They are lying in
bed and look like skeletons with skin, thin, pale,
weak, and in a great deal of pain. I found it hard to
look at the photos for very long, but seeing the
suffering victims made me realize the harsh reality of
people around the world enduring the pain of being
sick, but not being able to afford the cure for the
disease.

I continue walking towards the middle of the trailer,
as the sound of the ticking becomes louder and louder.
I see several clocks on a wall, none of which have
the purpose of showing the time of day, but each with
a saddening statistic of the number of people who die
based on a unit of time labeled underneath the clock.
For example, one child dies of malaria every 30
seconds. As I read each inconceivable statistic, the
ticking appeared to be getting louder in my ears. It
almost seemed to start echoing with each intimidating
tick of several lives being lost.

Towards the end of the trailer, there are more
displays explaining the history behind the various
diseases. At the last section of the trailer I meet
with Brigg Reilly, one of the exhibit's volunteer
doctors, who explains to me in more detail about the
manufacturing of the treatment for sleeping disease.
He explains that Melarsoprol was initially used to
treat sleeping disease, despite the fact that its
toxicity would corrode the plastic syringes used to
inject the treatment that would end up killing up to
one out of 10 patients.

However, a far more effective medicine called,
Eflornithine was introduced. Then in 1995, it was
discontinued because the manufacturers did not
considerate it to be a profitable medicine. But in
2001, Reilly explains, "The manufacturers suddenly
decide to produce this treatment again, but only after
discovering its cosmetic use for removing facial
hair." After Reilly revealed this to me, I realized
that the manufacturer is more willing to produce the
cure for sleeping disease for cosmetic reasons, as
opposed to saving the life of a suffering human being,
who doesn't have to means to pay for the treatment.

As I leave the exhibit, I am reminded of my grandpa,
who passed away from lung cancer. Like the many
victims of sleeping disease, he was also at a point
where I knew there was nothing else that could be done
to cure him. For my grandpa, the cancer had already
spread too far for the treatment to work. However,
the cure sleeping disease and other illnesses do in
fact exist, which places a great emphasis upon
creating awareness to gain support to provide
affordable treatment to the many people suffering from
such severe diseases.

*Note:
-This exhibit is sponsored by Doctor Without
Borders/Medecins Sans Frontieres (MSF), an independent
non-governmental international humanitarian
organization that delivers emergency medical care to
people in over 85 countries.

-Please refer to their website
(www.doctorswithoutborders.org) for more information
and an online petition to support devoting more
research towards developing affordable medicines for
neglected diseases.