We have just left the camps and are now working our way back towards N’djamena, the capital city of Chad. In less than two days, this trip will be history, but its effect on me will be just starting. When I got my visa into Chad, there were a few things I had to leave at the border. One was my ego, the other…emotions. I just wrote in an email to a friend today that there’s no crying in Chad. (self imposed) I didn’t know if I was capable of surviving this trip if I let things affect me, so I put on the heavy coat of armor, and kept everything on the surface level. But the visions and experience are beginning to penetrate that faux exterior I’ve created for self-preservation. I imagine in a few days, maybe sooner, it’ll all hit me.
In the meantime, I’ve been distantly observing the latest news about Iran. The riots, the images, the stories I’ve been reading all have the additional comments about how the news we are getting is because of the current technology…cell phones, video cameras, the internet, etc. from regular people. It is my understanding that there are no journalists in Iran, and I can’t help but compare situations. I wonder if the people of Darfur had more technology, would the world be more sympathetic to their cause? I just learned that the government of Sudan turned off all cell phone service before they attacked the villages so nobody had any connection to the outside world. Ahmadinejad should have thought of that one. The area of Western Sudan was so remote, only a couple of journalists in helicopters saw what was happening. There is no video record of the atrocities. Therefore to the main stream, it didn’t happen, and if it did, it occurred so long ago that it’s no longer a sexy and hip subject. I won’t want to diminish the situation in Iran, but I also want reiterate the obvious; great publicity sells a conflict.
But there are over 2.5 million witnesses to the Darfur scenario, and they are all squeezed into refugee and IDP camps in the desert of Eastern Chad and Western Sudan. And since coming here with i-ACT, I now understand the mission even more; give the refugees, who do not have the advantage of current technology, a VOICE. The most powerful moments of this trip were the reactions from members of the western world, as they watched the live images of the refugee camps we sent via satellite. Imagine if all the refugees were on Facebook and Twitter and could update us about what is happening to them now, or tell the world what really happened in Darfur. But for now, we depend on video, photos, and blogs from a small group of activists, one in particular called i-ACT, an enterprise I am proud to be a part of.
When I checked my ego at the border, its last request was for me to take the great “refugee” photo. Well, I didn’t accomplish that, but my camera did. In camp Kounoungo, I turned the lens on a boy named Abalhikim and myself. Then I lent him the camera to keep snapping his family, which he did. Hours later, when I checked the photos, I noticed Abalhikim had tried a few self-portraits of his own. One of them was not only that great “refugee” photo, but also the ultimate portrait of humanity. As I stared (and continue to stare) at the photo, I was amazed at this kid, gazing into the lens, revealing every emotion I could only dream of showing. Here’s a boy who has been through so much, and he has not developed that aforementioned protective layer I need just to witness the aftermath for a couple weeks. It also makes me think of how much of that protective layer I have developed for myself over the years. It might just be me, but this kid’s curiosity and amazement translates into exactly what this life might be about. Keep an open heart and keep looking out. Is he looking out to the world to see if they’re paying attention? If so, is our lack of response going to crush his curiosity? All I know is that, now that I’ve witnessed the camps in Chad, my energy and focus has been narrowed, I’m attempting to look in the lens with the same dichotomy as Abalhikim…one inward glance, and one outward glance….specifically towards President Barack Obama.
Like I said in an earlier journal entry, I don’t think this is America’s burden, but I do think at little cost, we can make some noise about Darfur. Obama talked a lot about Darfur during the campaign, but now that he’s been elected, reality has obviously taken over. But just because America is struggling with recession, doesn’t mean we don’t have the capacity to solve this situation. One doesn’t have to be a historian to remember that our country was in the Great Depression when World War II hit. If FDR had played it conservatively, and decided to focus only on “domestic” issues, then I’m sure the term “The Greatest Generation” would have never materialized. But instead America, a country struggling with itself, looked inward, then looked outward, just like Abalhikim, and somehow got it’s shit together to bring down the Nazis and stop the Holocaust. We can do the same, and it doesn’t have to be boots on the ground. It’s activism, and social networking, and the same movement that got Barack Obama elected, can move to solve the real issues of Darfur. Justice and Peace; one does not exist without the other. And if Barack Obama doesn’t have the balls to stand up for the victims of the largest mass murder in the new millennium, does he deserve our vote in 2012?
In closing, I owe a huge thanks to Gabriel Stauring, Katie Jay Scott, Eric Angel and the rest of the i-Act group for allowing me to a part of their effort. It was a great honor to be here with them, and I would work anywhere in the world…anytime…with the Chad field team. They were absolutely brilliant.

Ian

I am going to share maybe a little too much about my team mates, and too bad if they don’t like it. I put up with their bad jokes, long-winded story telling, incomprehensible tech talk, strong body odor, and I could go on and on, so they’re going to have to put up with my honesty on this journal entry.

I have somehow been blessed, lucky, or skillful to find myself surrounded by the most amazing, selfless group of people anyone could ever wish for. My i-ACT team is a team! As a group, it flows and adapts and gets the job done, no matter how difficult or extreme the conditions. As individuals, they are each so talented and sincere and true.

I’m now going to get more personal and mention some of them by name, and I hope those that I don’t mention don’t feel offended.

KTJ thinks she’s the funniest person on earth. I at times try to humor her and laugh. Most of the time, I am actually laughing at how not funny her improvised joke, act, or dance is! She’ll tell me, “You see! I am funny!” She is also all dedication and heart. She is so tough, but she is also so soft. It is the perfect combination; she is the prototype for an activist. A few days ago, as she was hugging 71 year old Fatne, a woman who crossed the desert on her bare feet after her village was destroyed and more than 50 members of her immediate community killed, I saw and felt all the emotions every human should feel and express towards other human beings.

I feel peace and a unique sense of clarity by just thinking of my friend and brother Yuen-Lin. When first dreaming of i-ACT–the concept, spirit, and actual project–Yuen-Lin called me from Malaysia. I told him about this crazy idea. I could feel his sense of wonder and excitement at being able to make this happen. He told me, “I don’t work on anything related to what you are telling me, but I will figure out how to do it.” We all call him our Tech-Guru, but he is so much more. He has been out on i-ACT missions twice with me, and the insights I gain from being next to him are invaluable. He strongly believes in peace, but in an active, proactive, peace. He uses his knowledge to allow people to come together across oceans and continents. YL is generous and allows himself to enter in to a relationship of commitment with each individual he meets at the camps. He truly feels responsible for their well-being. YL recently switched jobs, and he actually took a pay-cut in this voluntary switch. He did this because the new job would give him new tools and knowledge that would benefit our mission. That’s my brother YL.

My man Eric is everything. I felt such a sense of security with him on this i-ACT mission. He knows computers and websites and software and video editing. He is tough, in shape, and fearless enough to race motorcycles. He also can go without sleeping, when he feels he needs to get a job done. Our production as a team has probably doubled since E joined the team. As everyone else besides KTJ and I, E has a full-time job, so he took unpaid vacation to be with us on this trip. E is like a peace special-ops soldier. He is focused and ready for anything that comes. Right before going to camp one day, he ran and puked in the compound bathroom–probably something that he ate or drank. He ran back to the Land Cruiser and jumped in. “I’m good.” He then spent the next 5 hours in 110 degree heat working his ass off at the refugee camp.

To see the camps, the people, and the crisis through the eyes of Ian has been energizing. Ian comes from the movie business and has pop-references for just about any situation we find ourselves in. He also has great insight on how to bring two apparently opposite worlds together, the pop and the refugee. Another talent is his knack at finding the right theme song of the day on his iphone, be it Michael’s Man in the Mirror (weird when we heard he had died, two days after our theme song was played) or songs by anyone from U2 to JayZ. With IH, we laughed and laughed and laughed. And laughing is very much needed out here. IH is so talented with the camera and with his video editing. He can tell a story, and he can package a message that will get through. He was perfect for this mission. When he first asked me if we needed him on this trip, I told that for sure we could use him, but we did not have the budget for an extra person. IH, in between jobs and far from independently wealthy, immediately said, “Don’t worry about that. I’ll get myself over there.” And he did. Look at his video work, and you will see half of why he has been great to have out here. The other half is the humanity and friendship that he adds to the team and to our relationship with the refugees.

The other members of our team: Carolyn, Cory, Stacey, Alysha, Rachel, Kathleen, Willow, Jeremiah, Nicole, Cristina, Katie, Amanda, Jennifer, and Niny. I hope I’m not missing anyone. All of them, volunteers. Some jump in and out of action, but everyone believes in the i-ACT mission–putting a face on the numbers.

I am proud to be a part of this group. Sorry for talking so much about us, but I want others to see that we’re not special at all. We just decided to that we would act, and we see obstacles as opportunities to be creative…and even have fun.

Peace, G

It feels cool to hear our team’s time out here in Eastern Chad called a “mission.”  They ask, “How long is your mission?”  “Where is your mission going?”  I like to think that our mission never ends.  When we get back to the US, our mission continues and, for the most part, becomes even more difficult.

As cliche as it might sound, I tell our team, and I repeat it as often as I can and as often as I see needed, “mission first, mission first!”  We want to have our actions be directed by what will have a more immediate and positive and long-lasting impact on the people on whose behalf we are working for, the civilian population of Darfur.

Growing as an organization is not our mission.  On the contrary, it makes sense for us to stay light, flexible, and adaptable, so that we can act immediately based on what is happening or, sometimes even better, on what we see coming around the corner.  We take risks.  We allow ourselves to think outside of the box.  We many times go outside of our comfort zone.  We do make mistakes.

There are quite a few groups that exist today solely because of Darfur, including our little team.  For these advocacy or activists groups, I personally believe that it is our responsibility to be mission first, mission second, mission next, and mission always.  We owe it to the people that are right now sitting in the middle of the desert.  We owe it to ourselves and to our own children.

Paz,
G

I am feeling a bit down today.

We were up early in Guereda this morning, even though we had a little extra time to sleep in. We packed our bags, worked in the field office a bit and headed to the air strip. We didn’t have a security escort so we took big empty cargo trucks, probably because they won’t be targeted for banditry. It was a bumpy ride. Looking out of the back, with the thick plastic sheeting rolled up all the way, we said good bye to the desert.

Once in Abeche we wrapped up a few last minute details, and got on the computer. I have actually looked through my entire email box and cleaned up most of it. This is a task I usually can’t bring myself to do for weeks after I return from the camps. I should feel relieved or some sense of accomplishment or satisfaction for getting this task done, but I don’t.

Instead, I feel numb. I feel sad.  The emails and the websites and the list of things to do are so far from where I am mentally. I don’t quite know where I am.  I have spent almost three months of the last year and half in refugee camps here in Chad. With amazingly beautiful people. And the rest of the time, back in the States I get to travel around and share their stories, their reality and their hopes for the future. I get to dream up advocacy campaigns and push them into the public arena. I am doing exactly what I want to be doing. But I still feel so sad.

I want to curl up and cry. I want to look away, run away, be away. I thought all these months that I was a strong person, but now everything is catching up.

Adam said something that really struck me yesterday. When asked why he wanted the people of Darfur to learn about the world at his library, he intertwined his fingers and said, “We are all human beings.”

I think for sometime I have tried to bury myself below my passion and dedication to change the world. The people of Darfur have changed so much about me and taught me so much about myself. They have brought my own humanity to the surface. I guess in the end, we are simply all human.