Kavita Ramdas: Radical women, embracing tradition
Kavita Ramdas tells the stories of three inspiration women around the world who embrace the beauty of being a woman, in the fight for equality but are also investing in tradition. A devout Muslim in Afghanistan, a group of harmonizing lesbians in Croatia and a taboo breaker in Liberia. This may be my favorite TED Talk yet. I look forward to a world where man and woman share the same human rights.“Why is it that women are, on the one hand, viciously oppressed by cultural practices, and yet, at the same time, are the preservers of cultures in most societies?” Kavita Ramdas
Looking For A Way to Make DIfference?
As I am reviewing my video footage from my recent Malawi trip, I am sadly reminded of the alarming state of poverty that children are living under there. Hunger forces people into impossible choices just to survive – children are taken out of school, women are forced into high-risk sexual behavior, agriculture is constrained by economic isolation, high transport costs, growing environmental degradation and depleted soils. It’s heartbreaking for me to watch as I interview children and ask them what they need, what they want and if someone was willing to help them by sending packages, what is it they would like to receive. Incredulity, at overwhelming numbers, about 98% of the children asked for food. Not toys, not clothing, the most basic survival need, food. Can you imagine? If your child had to actually think about wonder when they would able to have a meal? Children are going to school on empty stomachs, carrying empty cups that will be filled with what may be their only meal of the day. For the over 40% of children unable to afford school, they are wondering when they will have a next meal. Children are literally dying from hunger. I write this because I’ve seen how far just a little funding can go to help these children. This trip changed how I see purchases I make. Do I really need another candle, overpriced handbag or drop a Benjamin on one meal? Knowing that $140 can feed 200 orphans 3 meals a week? Small alterations I make here, can help a child there. If we all micro-altered, our lives, we could wipe out hunger. Have you thought of ways your could help? Let me know if you’d like to make a difference. I know of many ways that you can help.NATIONAL POETRY MONTH – SHEL SILVERSTEIN
HUG O’ WARI will not play at tug o’war.
I’d rather play at hug o’war,
Where everyone hugs
Instead of tugs,
Where everyone giggles… See More
And rolls on the rug,
Where everyone kisses,
And everyone grins,
And everyone cuddles,
And everyone wins.
…so simple, so sweet 
National Poetry Month ~Rumi
IF YOU DON’T HAVEIf you don’t have enough madness in you,
Go and rehabilitate yourself.
If you’ve lost a hundred times the chest game of life,
Be prepared to lose one more.
If you’re holding the wounded string of a harp on this stage,
Play once more and resonate no more.
If you’re that exhausted bird fighting a falcon for too long,
make a comeback and be strong.
DON’T BE BITTER MY FRIEND
don’t be bitter my friend
you’ll regret it soon
hold your togetherness
or surely you’ll shatter
don’t walk away gloomy
from this garden
you’ll end up like an owl
dwelling in old ruins
face the war
be a warrior like a lion
or you’ll end up like a pet
tucked away in a stable
once you conquer
your selfish self
all your darkness
will change to light
National Poetry Month ~Thomas Hood
The Bridge of SighsOne more Unfortunate,
Weary of breath,
Rashly importunate,
Gone to her death!
Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashion’d so slenderly
Young, and so fair!
Look at her garments
Clinging like cerements;
Whilst the wave constantly
Drips from her clothing;
Take her up instantly,
Loving, not loathing.
Touch her not scornfully;
Think of her mournfully,
Gently and humanly;
Not of the stains of her,
All that remains of her
Now is pure womanly.
Make no deep scrutiny
Into her mutiny
Rash and undutiful:
Past all dishonour,
Death has left on her
Only the beautiful.
Still, for all slips of hers,
One of Eve’s family—
Wipe those poor lips of hers
Oozing so clammily.
Loop up her tresses
Escaped from the comb,
Her fair auburn tresses;
Whilst wonderment guesses
Where was her home?
Who was her father?
Who was her mother?
Had she a sister?
Had she a brother?
Or was there a dearer one
Still, and a nearer one
Yet, than all other?
Alas! for the rarity
Of Christian charity
Under the sun!
O, it was pitiful!
Near a whole city full,
Home she had none.
Sisterly, brotherly,
Fatherly, motherly
Feelings had changed:
Love, by harsh evidence,
Thrown from its eminence;
Even God’s providence
Seeming estranged.
Where the lamps quiver
So far in the river,
With many a light
From window and casement,
From garret to basement,
She stood, with amazement,
Houseless by night.
The bleak wind of March
Made her tremble and shiver;
But not the dark arch,
Or the black flowing river:
Mad from life’s history,
Glad to death’s mystery,
Swift to be hurl’d—
Anywhere, anywhere
Out of the world!
In she plunged boldly—
No matter how coldly
The rough river ran—
Over the brink of it,
Picture it—think of it,
Dissolute Man!
Lave in it, drink of it,
Then, if you can!
Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashion’d so slenderly,
Young, and so fair!
Ere her limbs frigidly
Stiffen too rigidly,
Decently, kindly,
Smooth and compose them;
And her eyes, close them,
Staring so blindly!
Dreadfully staring
Thro’ muddy impurity,
As when with the daring
Last look of despairing
Fix’d on futurity.
Perishing gloomily,
Spurr’d by contumely,
Cold inhumanity,
Burning insanity,
Into her rest.—
Cross her hands humbly
As if praying dumbly,
Over her breast!
Owning her weakness,
Her evil behaviour,
And leaving, with meekness,
Her sins to her Saviour!
by Thomas Hood
The Need For Cracks Dedicated To Upile
“There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.” Leonard Cohen
This statement couldn’t be more poignant on this day. Suffering a loss is never easy, but losing a child is a loss of unspeakable sorrow. Last night just after conquering an eighth year of life, Upile Chatha has left this physical world. I found Upile at Marie da Silva’s Jacaranda School in Malawi. It was my first day at the school. I was in the Standard 1 class and was seated at the very front, watching as the teacher taught the curriculum. This day they were learning numbers. I watched as the children recited the numbers, 1,2,3,4,5…and then walked up to the chalkboard and practiced writing them. Upile went up to write the number 5. A straight line down, then swing around then end with a line on top. I was relishing in the moment, watching as they so proudly drew their number 5. Going to school is not a given in Malawi, it’s a privilege, and it’s is even more of a gift for orphans there. Most orphans will never see the inside of a school and nearly half of the child population is composed of orphans, this classroom was full of those being blessed by the hard work of the Jacaranda Foundation. I sat there, in my chair at the front of the class, with my knees touching the girls in the front row. One of those sets of knees belonged to a beautiful pair of brown eyes and a smile to match. Those eyes were peering up at me, in between scribbles of numbers in her notepad. This was Upile. She giggled with her friend, Felista, who was seated next to her and then she turned her book around to show me how she’d written her numbers, she stole my heart right out of my chest and has kept it since then. She had a huge smile, and big beautiful bright shining eyes but underneath all of that, she was very ill. I could hear very laborious breathing efforts coming from my little dear and it struck me so hard I had to take the teacher aside and ask if she had an inhaler, since I have my entire life suffered from asthma, I just could not take the sound of such harsh breathing efforts, it’s not necessary when a puff on an inhaler would fix it. Upon inquiring, the teacher informed me that both of her parents had passed due to AIDS and that Upile herself was inflicted with the same, since birth. I still did not understand how this suffering was happening. Why she was apparently so ill? Why was she being left to suffer with breathing this way? Was she on medication? Did she need medication? When did she last see a doctor? These were all the questions churning in my being as watched this adorable little girl trying to hard so be a good student. These are the questions I took to Marie. I didn’t even have to ask all the questions, I merely started to speak about a sick child and Marie immediately wanted to know all of the details and said, we will speak to her guardian and see what we can do for this child. I have to say, it was such an enlightening moment for me, that immediate action, (I will forever in this lifetime admire and do anything to help my friend Marie, for that very moment). We put together a plan to speak with Upile’s guardian the very next day. Well, the next day came and when I went into the classroom I found out that she was home, sick. You can already guess what Marie said when I told her the news and we were soon off to find our little girl.
Marie and I walked out into the village, she gave me the tour and pointed out things along the way, it was a pretty long walk, I was surprised this sick little one was walking this far, considering her state. When we finally came to Upile’s home, we found her sitting on the ground, playing with rocks, outside. I was immediately taken aback that she was out of school sick but was outside, in a ragged, torn dress that once had a zipper but was now dripping from Upile’s severely malnourished body. She recognized me right away, it was quite touching. Those big eyes and smile melted me every time. Marie, speaks Chichewa so she asked her where her guardian was and if she could take us there. 3 Shockingly, we found out, she wasn’t on any medications and hadn’t seen a doctor in over years. She wasn’t being cared for at all, sadly. Marie and I decided this was not going to continue and we got her to the hospital as soon as we could. The next couple of weeks I spent quite a bit of time visiting Upile in the children’s ward as she gathered strength and slowly came to health. We brought her treats, (her favorite was chips) toys and on a few occasions even had the bright idea of bringing in my laptop so she could watch movies, which in and of itself was an enormous experience for all in the hospital. Every time I saw her she was eating more and looking better and on my last day at Jacaranda she was out of the hospital and spending time with Marie and I. She sat on our laps and smiled. It was heart tugging to tell her I was leaving,, Marie relayed the message as I watched her eyes change and her expression go down. I embraced her, told her how much she meant to me and that I’d be always be thinking of her. Her smile came back for me and that will be the memory I have of my sweet little friend. I wish that I could have seen her again. My little fighter was strong.
Upile was an angel for change. She didn’t know this but since her case and finding her obvious neglect, it effected a change at Jacaranda and there have been several children who have been diagnosed and medicated. Today, when a child is showing signs of sickness or is noticeably missing school for being sick, they are taken to the hospital and given the care essential to their well-being and ultimately lives. No longer will sickness be overlooked. We are also working to make workbooks to encourage them to take their medication. It is one thing to get the child diagnosed, another to get their ongoing medication and even another to get them to take ownership of their own health care. I know it’s hard to imagine a 5 year old taking ownership of her own health care but it’s a fact. My goal is to help them reach a place where they can speak to each other, lean on each other and get well together. The workbooks are the start. Ultimately, we want these little beings to be empowered to care for themselves, as too often we see they aren’t getting the vital care they so desperately need. I will miss hugging, kissing and holding Upile’s hand. She put a crack in my heart and that’s where I’m going to let the light in. These tears are of sorrow and joy. Joy that you were loved so very much and that your life has touched so many. I love you. Rest in peace beloved.
