This is truly a thought-provoking, heart-softening poem that I needed to share. In the quest for social justice, this poem will help guide the way.
A MOMENT OF SILENCE, BEFORE I START THIS POEM
Before I start this poem,
I'd like to ask you to join me
In a moment of silence
In honor of those who died in the World Trade Center and the
Pentagon last September 11th.
I would also like to ask you
To offer up a moment of silence
For all of those who have been harassed, imprisoned,
disappeared, tortured, raped, or killed in retaliation for those strikes
For the victims in both Afghanistan and the U.S.
And if I could just add one more thing...
A full day of silence
For the tens of thousands of Palestinians who have died at the
hands of U.S.-backed Israeli
forces over decades of occupation.
Six months of silence for the million and-a-half Iraqi people,
mostly children, who have died of
malnourishment or starvation as a result of an 11-year U.S.
embargo against the country.
Before I begin this poem,
Two months of silence for the Blacks under Apartheid in South Africa,
Where homeland security made them aliens in their own country.
Nine months of silence for the dead in Hiroshima and Nagasaki,
Where death rained down and peeled back every layer of
concrete, steel, earth and skin
And the survivors went on as if alive.
A year of silence for the millions of dead in Vietnam - a people,
not a war - for those who
know a thing or two about the scent of burning fuel, their
relatives' bones buried in it, their babies born of it.
A year of silence for the dead in Cambodia and Laos, victims of
a secret war ... ssssshhhhhhh...
Say nothing
we don't want them to learn that they are dead.
Two months of silence for the decades of dead in Colombia,
Whose names, like the corpses they once represented,
have piled up and slipped off our tongues.
Before I begin this poem.
An hour of silence for El Salvador ...
An afternoon of silence for Nicaragua ...
Two days of silence for the Guatemaltecos ...
None of whom ever knew a moment of peace in their living years.
45 seconds of silence for the 45 dead at Acteal, Chiapas
25 years of silence for the hundred million Africans who found
their graves far deeper in the ocean than any building could
poke into the sky.
There will be no DNA testing or dental records to identify their remains.
And for those who were strung and swung from the heights of
sycamore trees in the south, the north, the east, and the west...
100 years of silence...
For the hundreds of millions of Indigenous peoples from this half
of right here,
Whose land and lives were stolen,
In postcard-perfect plots like Pine Ridge, Wounded Knee, Sand Creek,
Fallen Timbers, or the Trail of Tears.
Names now reduced to innocuous magnetic poetry on the
refrigerator of our consciousness ...
So you want a moment of silence?
And we are all left speechless
Our tongues snatched from our mouths
Our eyes stapled shut
A moment of silence
And the poets have all been laid to rest
The drums disintegrating into dust.
Before I begin this poem,
You want a moment of silence
You mourn now as if the world will never be the same
And the rest of us hope to hell it won't be.
Not like it always has
been.
Because this is not a 9/11 poem.
This is a 9/10 poem,
It is a 9/9 poem,
A 9/8 poem,
A 9/7 poem
This is a 1492 poem.
This is a poem about what causes poems like this to be written.
And if this is a 9/11 poem, then:
This is a September 11th poem for Chile, 1971.
This is a September 12th poem for Steven Biko in South Africa, 1977.
This is a September 13th poem for the brothers at Attica Prison, New York, 1971.
This is a September 14th poem for Somalia, 1992.
This is a poem for every date that falls to the ground in ashes
This is a poem for the 110 stories that were never told
The 110 stories that history chose not to write in textbooks
The 110 stories that CNN, BBC, The New York Times, and Newsweek ignored.
This is a poem for interrupting this program.
And still you want a moment of silence for your dead?
We could give you lifetimes of empty:
The unmarked graves
The lost languages
The uprooted trees and histories
The dead stares on the faces of nameless children
Before I start this poem we could be silent forever
Or just long enough to hunger,
For the dust to bury us
And you would still ask us
For more of our silence.
If you want a moment of silence
Then stop the oil pumps
Turn off the engines and the televisions
Sink the cruise ships
Crash the stock markets
Unplug the marquee lights,
Delete the instant messages,
Derail the trains, the light rail transit.
If you want a moment of silence, put a brick through the window of Taco Bell,
And pay the workers for wages lost.
Tear down the liquor stores,
The townhouses, the White Houses, the jailhouses, the
Penthouses and the Playboys.
If you want a moment of silence,
Then take it
On Super Bowl Sunday,
The Fourth of July
During Dayton's 13 hour sale
Or the next time your white guilt fills the room where my beautiful
people have gathered.
You want a moment of silence
Then take it NOW,
Before this poem begins.
Here, in the echo of my voice,
In the pause between goosesteps of the second hand,
In the space between bodies in embrace,
Here is your silence,
Take it.
But take it all...
Don't cut in line.
Let your silence begin at the beginning of crime.
But we,
Tonight we will keep right on singing
For our dead.
By EMMANUEL ORTIZ, 11 Sep 2002
Emmanuel Ortiz is a third-generation Chicano/Puerto Rican/Irish-American community organizer and spoken word poet residing in Minneapolis, MN. He currently serves on the board of directors for the Minnesota Spoken Word Association, and is the coordinator of Guerrilla Wordfare, a Twin Cities-based grassroots project bringing together artists of color to address socio-political issues and raise funds for progressive organizing in communities of color through art as a tool of social change.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
The Azad Kashmir trip
Can you believe the summer's nearly over? I could've sworn it was just last week that I was getting ready to spend the summer in Pakistan. And now I am already back!
While the post below can suffice for most of the activities in June, July and August warrant their own dedicated blog entry. But unfortunately, that too will have to wait! For now, please make do with an article I wrote about a short trip I took to Azad Kashmir in July.
Obviously, much more to follow. Pray I write it all soon!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Greetings from Pakistan! (And no, I havent gotten married)
I've been in Pakistan for nearly ten days now, and while most of the days were in Islamabad, relaxing with friends and family, I was reminded of how dire the situation is on a constant, day-to-day basis. There are police checkpoints everywhere. The checking would add at least 5 or 10 minutes to your commute, in a city that is pretty small - compared to Lahore at least.
While I was in Islamabad, the Pearl Continental Hotel in Peshawar (the only 5 star hotel in the entire Northwest Frontier Province just an hour north of Islamabad) was bombed, in very much a similar style to the recent bombings at law enforcement agency offices in Lahore, as well as the Marriott Hotel bombing in Islamabad of last year. Combine the two, and you have nothing but mayhem - a terrorist's dream come true. Many of my friends and colleagues reminded me to take good care when I visited Pakistan in January 2008. Lahore had just experienced its first major terrorist attack during my visit at the time, when the police contingent outside the Lahore High Court was attacked by a suicide bomber. Imagine the fear in our hearts when we realized this was a short distance away from my cousins' law offices.
My family and I went out to dinner to the now-renovated-and-open-for-business Marriott Hotel when I was in Islamabad last week. To call that place a fortress is an understatement. I wonder if Israelis live in as much fear of terrorists as we civilian Pakistanis do now? I mean, there was a checkpoint down the road from the hotel, then one in front of it. Cars are simply not allowed inside the hotel complex anymore (I wonder where the valet service took our car that night?). We walked through a 15 foot barrier of sand, water and concrete, through metal detectors and then finally down a newly constructed ramp that brought you right in front of the hotel doors. A lobby that once buzzed and hummed with energy was now a barren wasteland. I could even hear the silverware clanking, something impossible if you were ever there when the lobby restaurant's singer sang old film songs and the dozens of guests chatted while foreigners conducted business.
My father has solemn memories of the hotel from last year. He often went there for dinner or high tea and the staff recognized him - some of whom lost their lives in the tragic attack. One of the waiters serving us that night survived. What questions, or memories, must haunt them? I shudder to think and hesitate to ask. Needless to say, dinner is bittersweet. It might be a world class establishment, but unfortunately, its recent history will always guide its future.
I arrived in Lahore on the weekend and feel as if ive been stuffed inside a brick oven! It's so hot that I can honestly feel the heat seeping into my skin from the sofa, for example. Westerners cannot understand the lifestyle here, because they are so accustomed to air conditioning. Well, that's a joke here, since the electricity doesnt work half the day - literally! It's called loadshedding and happens in India as well, but it wreaks more havoc across the border, here in Pakistan, because of the dire economic situation.
Speaking of which, the budget was just announced and education accounts for barely one percent of GDP. Industrialized nations budget between three and five percent for education, so we have a long way to go, definitely. The World Bank came out with a report (or some sort of assessment) which I cant locate for now, but the two important conclusions from the article I read were that 1) Madrassah enrollment accounts for around one percent of student enrollment in educational institutions. ie, madrassah students should not be looked at as a credible threat to the country or international security, for that matter. And 2) Private schools are increasingly taking on the challenges that the public sector has shied away from. Private school students have shown superior performance and overall more "bang for the buck".
It should come as no surprise that there is yet another increase in defense spending. Power to the army! I can understand why we need to increase it (can we get some serious support to fight the Taliban, please?), but please, someone explain to me why the U.S. needs to do so? The military-industrial complex in the U.S. that a former U.S. President warned of (Truman? Eisenhower?) is very much a reality in Pakistan as well. Read Ayesha Siddiqa Agha's work for some fascinating insight on this topic, but meanwhile, i've become a staunch supporter of at least direct support to the Pakistani army. They're the ones on the frontlines, fighting this raging insurgency in the country's north. They, along with other law enforcement officers/officials, will always be prime targets. They need true and real assistance. A simple bullet proof vest will go far.
I was pleasantly surprised - and a bit taken aback - when I saw an ad in the local paper for a company that produced these and other vests and devices that might protect law enforcement officers. Great to see that the product is in the marketplace, but why must this company advertise these goods? Is it not logical that the army definitely needs these, no questions asked? I remember an episode of Larry King Live from last year when the American entertainer, Cher, was making the rounds in the media drumming up support for helmets that soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan should use considering the roadside and suicide bombings they were fast becoming victims to. Well, now our soldiers need them too. I'm surprised no one is asking these logical questions and demanding these devices be mandatory. In due time, I truly hope.
And lastly, it's become customary for my South Asian friends to tease me about my age and marital status (i'll be 28 in September and am single). At about my age, South Asian men and their families embark on a journey to find a suitable spouse for the "candidate". Marriage is essentially a social contract in South Asia, as well as the Arab world in general. Spouses (or couples, by extension) are not just friends and companions but also agents of social change, in that, they build bridges and establish linkages among families. This was especially common in the Mughal/medieval times when marriages were almost solely done by virtue of family background. As long as there were similarities between prospective spouses, the rest could be worked on.
So alas, this brings me to my predicament. An eligible bachelor, on vacation for several weeks in his native hometown, yet no word of marriage, or even an engagement? Some of my South Asian friends inquired - half-jokingly - about my "plans" for this trip. My answer of "rest, relaxation and recreation" did not go far with them. For now, I am not letting this issue stress me out. I enjoy what independence I have and am hopeful for the future. A positive approach should do me well, I think!
On that upbeat note, I part ways. Since there is plenty to update you on, i'll try to write soon...
While I was in Islamabad, the Pearl Continental Hotel in Peshawar (the only 5 star hotel in the entire Northwest Frontier Province just an hour north of Islamabad) was bombed, in very much a similar style to the recent bombings at law enforcement agency offices in Lahore, as well as the Marriott Hotel bombing in Islamabad of last year. Combine the two, and you have nothing but mayhem - a terrorist's dream come true. Many of my friends and colleagues reminded me to take good care when I visited Pakistan in January 2008. Lahore had just experienced its first major terrorist attack during my visit at the time, when the police contingent outside the Lahore High Court was attacked by a suicide bomber. Imagine the fear in our hearts when we realized this was a short distance away from my cousins' law offices.
My family and I went out to dinner to the now-renovated-and-open-for-business Marriott Hotel when I was in Islamabad last week. To call that place a fortress is an understatement. I wonder if Israelis live in as much fear of terrorists as we civilian Pakistanis do now? I mean, there was a checkpoint down the road from the hotel, then one in front of it. Cars are simply not allowed inside the hotel complex anymore (I wonder where the valet service took our car that night?). We walked through a 15 foot barrier of sand, water and concrete, through metal detectors and then finally down a newly constructed ramp that brought you right in front of the hotel doors. A lobby that once buzzed and hummed with energy was now a barren wasteland. I could even hear the silverware clanking, something impossible if you were ever there when the lobby restaurant's singer sang old film songs and the dozens of guests chatted while foreigners conducted business.
My father has solemn memories of the hotel from last year. He often went there for dinner or high tea and the staff recognized him - some of whom lost their lives in the tragic attack. One of the waiters serving us that night survived. What questions, or memories, must haunt them? I shudder to think and hesitate to ask. Needless to say, dinner is bittersweet. It might be a world class establishment, but unfortunately, its recent history will always guide its future.
I arrived in Lahore on the weekend and feel as if ive been stuffed inside a brick oven! It's so hot that I can honestly feel the heat seeping into my skin from the sofa, for example. Westerners cannot understand the lifestyle here, because they are so accustomed to air conditioning. Well, that's a joke here, since the electricity doesnt work half the day - literally! It's called loadshedding and happens in India as well, but it wreaks more havoc across the border, here in Pakistan, because of the dire economic situation.
Speaking of which, the budget was just announced and education accounts for barely one percent of GDP. Industrialized nations budget between three and five percent for education, so we have a long way to go, definitely. The World Bank came out with a report (or some sort of assessment) which I cant locate for now, but the two important conclusions from the article I read were that 1) Madrassah enrollment accounts for around one percent of student enrollment in educational institutions. ie, madrassah students should not be looked at as a credible threat to the country or international security, for that matter. And 2) Private schools are increasingly taking on the challenges that the public sector has shied away from. Private school students have shown superior performance and overall more "bang for the buck".
It should come as no surprise that there is yet another increase in defense spending. Power to the army! I can understand why we need to increase it (can we get some serious support to fight the Taliban, please?), but please, someone explain to me why the U.S. needs to do so? The military-industrial complex in the U.S. that a former U.S. President warned of (Truman? Eisenhower?) is very much a reality in Pakistan as well. Read Ayesha Siddiqa Agha's work for some fascinating insight on this topic, but meanwhile, i've become a staunch supporter of at least direct support to the Pakistani army. They're the ones on the frontlines, fighting this raging insurgency in the country's north. They, along with other law enforcement officers/officials, will always be prime targets. They need true and real assistance. A simple bullet proof vest will go far.
I was pleasantly surprised - and a bit taken aback - when I saw an ad in the local paper for a company that produced these and other vests and devices that might protect law enforcement officers. Great to see that the product is in the marketplace, but why must this company advertise these goods? Is it not logical that the army definitely needs these, no questions asked? I remember an episode of Larry King Live from last year when the American entertainer, Cher, was making the rounds in the media drumming up support for helmets that soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan should use considering the roadside and suicide bombings they were fast becoming victims to. Well, now our soldiers need them too. I'm surprised no one is asking these logical questions and demanding these devices be mandatory. In due time, I truly hope.
And lastly, it's become customary for my South Asian friends to tease me about my age and marital status (i'll be 28 in September and am single). At about my age, South Asian men and their families embark on a journey to find a suitable spouse for the "candidate". Marriage is essentially a social contract in South Asia, as well as the Arab world in general. Spouses (or couples, by extension) are not just friends and companions but also agents of social change, in that, they build bridges and establish linkages among families. This was especially common in the Mughal/medieval times when marriages were almost solely done by virtue of family background. As long as there were similarities between prospective spouses, the rest could be worked on.
So alas, this brings me to my predicament. An eligible bachelor, on vacation for several weeks in his native hometown, yet no word of marriage, or even an engagement? Some of my South Asian friends inquired - half-jokingly - about my "plans" for this trip. My answer of "rest, relaxation and recreation" did not go far with them. For now, I am not letting this issue stress me out. I enjoy what independence I have and am hopeful for the future. A positive approach should do me well, I think!
On that upbeat note, I part ways. Since there is plenty to update you on, i'll try to write soon...
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Thoughts on Alliance of Civilizations Istanbul Forum
I initially compiled these thoughts just days after I arrived back from attending the Alliance of Civilizations Istanbul Forum, but they're officially being published on the World Bank's Youthink! blog now. Thanks very much to the supportive editor at Youthink!, Saadia Iqbal Leal!
As always, feedback appreciated. The event truly was remarkable and the people gathered there could easily steer the world away from the problems it currently finds itself in - only if we maintain and sustain our efforts in the arena of intercultural/interfaith dialogue.
As always, feedback appreciated. The event truly was remarkable and the people gathered there could easily steer the world away from the problems it currently finds itself in - only if we maintain and sustain our efforts in the arena of intercultural/interfaith dialogue.
Friday, February 27, 2009
"Class Dismissed" - Short documentary on Swat Valley, Pakistan
After watching this 14 minute documentary chronicling the last hours before an 11-year old girl's public school in Swat Valley, Pakistan, is closed, I must say, I am very saddened and depressed by the whole situation. I've been reading news about how schools are closing down, week after week, by the dozens, but it never really hits you until you see visuals. Thanks to the documentary, I now appreciate the struggle of women the world over who yearn to be educated.
Ziauddin is not your typical male, and his daughter - or family, in general - are not your typical family. He is a social activist who wants his daughter to be a politician. She, on the other hand, wants to be a doctor. And both dont want to leave Swat! I salute their courage. Not much is left of their once serene valley. I had the pleasure of visiting the northern areas of Pakistan, specifically Swat and some other cities nearby, in 2001, and was blown away. Such beauty! Those images will be eteched in my mind forever.
Tragically, Balakot - the city which is traditionally considered a gateway to the North - was destroyed nearly completely in the October 2005 earthquake. And Swat - well, we know what's happening there now.
My hope is that the New York Times and other media outlets continue to focus on this story. No one should ever live in fear. Please take a moment to thank the Times for this video. I dont agree with a lot of their journalistic viewpoints and policies, but when any one does good, a little encouragement goes a long way.
Ziauddin is not your typical male, and his daughter - or family, in general - are not your typical family. He is a social activist who wants his daughter to be a politician. She, on the other hand, wants to be a doctor. And both dont want to leave Swat! I salute their courage. Not much is left of their once serene valley. I had the pleasure of visiting the northern areas of Pakistan, specifically Swat and some other cities nearby, in 2001, and was blown away. Such beauty! Those images will be eteched in my mind forever.
Tragically, Balakot - the city which is traditionally considered a gateway to the North - was destroyed nearly completely in the October 2005 earthquake. And Swat - well, we know what's happening there now.
My hope is that the New York Times and other media outlets continue to focus on this story. No one should ever live in fear. Please take a moment to thank the Times for this video. I dont agree with a lot of their journalistic viewpoints and policies, but when any one does good, a little encouragement goes a long way.
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