Learning Letter/ Plan of Action

            What stood out to me more than anything in the course was during Jane’s visit. She presented data on China’s GDP and showed that it was approaching America’s. After this she said in a fully serious manner “doesn’t that make you want to be better?” To be fully honest, my answer is no. Numbers and statistics don’t usually influence my passion for teaching or the betterment of my society. To her, the idea that her country (now America) has to be the best in the world was deeply engrained in her thinking. This astounded me and made me think much harder about what I am doing and why.

Overall this class brought of perspectives I had never considered. I had to think about the perspectives not just of the countries but of the writers who were thinking about these issues. For example I wonder whose story has more truth, the memoir or the journalist. One has compiled perspectives and one has written only from his own. I wonder if I were to write about an issue if I would write from my own perspective or from another’s. Either way though, I have been able to vastly expand my perspective on the world in general. 

I find myself more empathetic about culture beyond my own I can recognize the hurt and pain beyond what we might call “first world problems.” Through the projects in this class I have been able to recognize even more vast perspectives and the hard work that goes into creating the art that is in front of the pain.

The question of the day however is “what now?” What happens once I have digested all this cultural information. First of all I do not want it to end. I do not want to discontinue seeking out new cultural background and knowledge. I do not want to stop empathizing and connecting with the cultures I have learned about nor do I want to stop discovering things about new cultures.

Learning is far from my true plan of action however. Though I don’t have plane tickets or a destination I have a distinct desire to teach beyond the locales I know and understand. Learning about China has already led me to research teaching opportunities there. I have also looked into the American Institute in Tel Aviv. My goal however is to teach in an area outside of the modern American city. I want to experience another culture and share my own experience somewhere beyond big city culture. Even rural Alaska presents radically different cultural experience and I have kept that open as an option. Some day I will teach beyond the borders of my current knowledge.

Graffiti Wall Artist’s Statement

Six years ago I went on a trip to Israel with a short stop in London. Many things about this trip astounded me and several things about this trip were downright devastating. One thing in particular that shocked me is how everywhere I went I was treated as a criminal. Sometimes I believed it was because I am a white male travelling alone, but there was an underlying hostility everywhere I went. Even at monuments dedicated to peace and love such as the Dome of the Rock is more closely guarded than any place I have ever been. Men with guns turned me away every day and lied to me about being allowed in later that day. But it was not only overseas that I felt this hostility. I have been scrutinized in many places I go right here in America.

The images I have created are a representation of the fear and closed off nature of the world as it exists today. Instead of a nation taking it’s landmarks and making them a free and open representation of their country, they have fenced them off and frisked anyone who wants to get within a mile of them. This culture of fear has spread through borders even. As an American citizen I can still be treated as a terrorist or a criminal at any time.  Landmarks like the Dome of the Rock or Big Ben should be open symbols to the world, but viewing these two things is one of the most difficult and toilsome things I have ever done in my life.

The idea of war and terrorism is not an easy one to overlook, but the fear and hatred it has caused in the world is making borders thicker. It is not easy to travel or to experience the world. It is not easy to view religious or historical landmarks in peace. I hope in the future the fear that put up the fences fades and the world can share it’s culture freely and peacefully.

A Long Way Gone by Ishmael Beah Reaction

            It would be easy to read this book and say: guns are horrible, drugs are horrible, the UN is terrible, African government is terrible…. But the book resounds so far beyond the brutality of the world. Beah writes in a way that gives hope and respect for all of humanity. Through all the brutality and terror he saw, his tone remains uplifting and forgiving. He does not offer blame or attack any particular reason for the atrocities he experienced in Sierra Leone. Instead, he offers his story. He gives us an in depth look at the thoughts of a small boy who knew nothing beyond the violent ways that were offered to him as security from hunger and loneliness.

            One thing I was happy to read in Beah’s account was the lack of guilt. It would be easy for a young man to realize the atrocities he had committed were nigh unforgivable and hate himself forever. This is not the case in Beah’s account. His rehabilitation was clearly centered on helping him understand that he was not in control of his actions as a child controlled by cocaine and what can only be described as violence addiction. It is uplifting to read an account of rehab from hatred and evil. It contrasts the worst humans on earth with the most benevolent.

            Heartbreaking to read was the hatred that swept the country even after Beah’s rehabilitation. To have the evil and the senseless killing enter into the peace and societal normalcy that he found in the city was gut wrenching. It was hard to read about him as a child, but as a college student it was even harder to hear about how he could not escape the torment of his past even as he began to enter adulthood.

            Memoirs are one of the most difficult works to critique. It’s hard to know what is or isn’t true or what may have been embellished. One thing Beah does well is placing vague language and locale to his story. However, I find it hard to believe that he could remember his thoughts and emotions from his time as a cocaine riddled adolescent. Embellishing the thoughts of his younger self made for an amazing read, but from a believability standpoint it seemed exaggerated.

            Another criticism I have read is the end of the book leaved the reader with relatively extreme questions about his journey.  The fault here probably lies with an editor, but The gap in the narrative between Guinea and America is shocking. It’s difficult to know exactly how a young man should end his memoir, but it was frustrating to view a blank page after spending over 200 in stitches over what was going to happen. Overall the book is entirely unforgettable and has opened my eyes to a world I can never un-see.  I feel uplifted and hopeful after reading such passion and human spirit. It is a euphoria that accompanies both great art and great truth which is what a book should be.

Sierra Leone

A term I do not like to use is “third-world” it feels degrading and does not seem to be a descriptive enough term for a country. I struggle however, to find a way to recognize Sierra Leone as anything from a world I understand. This research has made me feel like parts of this earth truly are “third world” and unknown to the western mind. Though Hollywood and the media attempt to encapsulate the struggles of the country, it is clear that much of what goes on is never recorded and the violence is too much for anyone to fully grasp.

 Media is unable to capture how bad it is in West Africa, but it is overly clear that the violence has made the country fall well behind it’s economic potential. Statistically, based on oil and mineral wealth, Sierra Leone could be one of the top economies in the world. Civil war and violence has kept this from coming anywhere near the truth. Though the civil war ended in 2002, it has been nearly impossible for the leaders in the new government to keep corruption our of the mineral trade.

The first time I saw any example of violence in Africa was in the Hollywood blockbuster “Blood Diamond.” In the film child soldiers, limb amputation, and warlord control of diamonds are clearly displayed. The protagonist female, played by Jennifer Connelly gets to fly to safety at the end of the movie and the boy soldier hugs his father and all is happy. Hollywood found a way to make even the most desperate situations survivable and happy. From what I have read thus far about the situation of child soldiers and those who venture into the fighting of Sierra Leone, very few come out happily as families.

It is so engrained in my values that childhood should be preserved and cherished, that reading about child soldiers is brutally difficult. Even at 22 years old, I sometimes want to fall back on my childish shell and not write my blog on violence and brutality in this world. I want to find a place on this rainy day, wrap myself in a blanket, and read a book that makes me happy. But it’s not right of me to refuse to understand the world’s struggles just because I feel uncomfortable. It’s my job as a college educated student to step outside of myself and try to empathize with a world that is not just in books, but a world that has more slavery, sex trade, and child soldier recruitment than ever before. It’s time to understand how privileged I am and learn what I can to be the best student, teacher, and man I can be. And with this in mind, I sit down to read Ishmael Beah…

A Knee-Jerk Book Review of Revolution is not a Dinner Party

This being the fourth children’s book I have read in about as many weeks I am completely adjusted to the style. I have learned to see through the eyes of these young characters and understand their horrors through the lens of innocence. In Revolution is not a Dinner Party the main character Ling has to live through the brutal tyrannical reign of Chairman Mao. The shocking change in the way of life for her village is astounding even to the eyes of a child.

            The first thing to stand out to me was the descriptions of food. Some of my earliest memories are of food I love and it doesn’t surprise me that Ling also dotes over her meals. When Mao comes to power and begins to ration food Ling’s commentary on the lack of food is heartbreaking. Halfway through the book she even talks about loving tofu which she despises in the opening scene. Giving food to children is something that crosses every cultural understanding as a complete necessity. When Ling describes her desire to not be coddled and to receive the same portions as her father who gives her extra food, it demonstrates clearly how difficult it was for these families.

            The father in this story is like a god. The reader lives in constant fear of his death since it is so evident that Ling worships his existence and would not endure were she to learn of his death. Father figures are another universal image that the author uses to help the books universality. I cant help but be in anguish when Ling realizes her father is powerless against the evil in her life. I think every child has a sickening dilemma in realizing the mortality of their parents.

            A major theme in the book is the sickeningly fickle nature of the Chinese people. The book portrayed all but a select few as maddeningly gullible. Mob mentality plays a large role in the brutal things Ling must witness and endure throughout the book. Its easy to excuse a starving mob for their crimes, but still shocking to watch how quickly the people shift ideology and loyalty. Even in the eyes of a child it is clear that the people thirsted for blood and blame wherever they could and the Maoist propaganda encouraged such behavior so that the country was ruled by mob fear.

            Though many scenes in the book terrified me and kept me glued to the page, the scenes of the school bullies got to me the most. As an educator and a former recipient of unchecked abuse at the hands of a bully, I struggle to read accounts of such brutality. By the end of the book Ling is bald and fierce. She has been forced to lash out in violence again and again to protect herself and the symbol of her innocence and beauty (her hair) is gone from her.  The book ends on a light note of reunion and love, but the overwhelming statement about the loss of innocence does not make this a happy ending in my mind.