Black Things

Posted on June 2, 2012 by ofurhe

This week I did 3 black things; I read Baratunde Thurston’s How to Be Black, I saw the Questionbridge Installation at the Oakland Museum and I went to a talk by Remi Omodele about her new book Weighing the Cost of Pin Making. Although there are many aspects to my identity, this week I engaged in the black part of it, and it felt good.

In his book, Thurston talks about how no one is the perfect amount of black, some people are accused of not being black enough, others of being too black, no one is ‘just right’. For him, he grew up in the inner city without a father (his “hood had everything The Wire had except critical acclaim and the undying love of white people”), but he has a degree from Harvard and also likes computers, camping and classical music. My ‘Negro credentials’ are that I grew up with a single mother in Oakland, and my father is Nigerian (actually from Nigeria), but I too have a fancy degree and a love for computers, camping and classical music. I had a great time reading this book, laughing out loud and thinking about when I first learned the term oreo, the differences between being a black friend and being a black employee and what it means to be black in America.

I went to see the Questionbridge Installation because my friend’s brother was involved in it. The installation is as simple as it is effective, it’s just black men asking and answering questions. Questions like ‘How do you feel about White Women? Why do you University educated brothers think they’re better than ones in jail? What would you do if white people didn’t exist? among others.” It was a very diverse group of men, many viewpoints represented. Being a black man is obviously different from being a black woman, but the issues raised about black identity were relevant and important. It brought up some questions I wanted to ask, can something be both true and racist? How does biracial identity change demographic and political trends?

Last night I went to see Remi Omodele, a family friend, talk about her new book. The book is about the life of Ulli Beier a teacher who had a huge influence on the Nigerian educational system. The title of the book comes from a saying that the British had about the ‘Natives’, that they were so uncivilized that they couldn’t even make a pin. This colonialist attitude was internalized by the Nigerians and they had begun to discount their own traditions. Beier helped them to document and embrace their own traditions. I went to the talk with my father who is from Benin City. Although Beier was in Yorubaland there are many linguistic and cultural similarities between the Yoruba and the Edo people. The message seemed to be that in order to combat the divisiveness and strife of modern times we need to look back to our traditions.

What does all this mean to me? I’ve spent most of my life in school; I’m quite good at being a student, in fact I’m starting again in the fall. I have never really been in a class that had more than 1 other black girl. I’m used to being the token Woman of Color. There are many different aspects of my identity that make me unique, I don’t think that being black is the most important part of my identity, but I do think it is very important, if not for myself, than for the way that other people see me. Black people make less money, have shorter life spans, higher health risks and lower economic prospects in this country. When people see me, they see this history and these statistics as well. I think if America survives this present crisis that there will come a time when race is less important to the way that people see me in this country, but this time hasn’t come yet. Most people see me as a Black Woman, and I’m happy with that.

Refugee Camp Part 2

Posted on May 15, 2012 by ofurhe

As we walked to the tent we all took off our shoes, as is the custom in Afghanistan, but our hosts insisted that we keep our shoes on. The hospitality and generosity of the Afghan people was a recurring theme on the trip. I think there was a thin rug covering much of the ground, but I sat in the corner and the ground was completely frozen. Aware that showing the bottom of one’s feet is considered rude, I chose to sit on my heels, either because of the cold or because of my seated position, my feet were quickly numb. As Salena began to set up her video equipment we were served tea and men began to file in.

There was Ismail, Najib’s friend, who was one of 6 elected elders of the camp. There were two other men we spoke to (Ruzi Khan and Khoja Mohammed), and then there were maybe 10 other people in the tent. All men, all staring at us. I felt scared and out of place, I did not know the customs of this tribe. In college I studied Persian (Farsi, as spoken in Iran), I did manage to take a summer of Pashto language, but I am really unfamiliar with their tribe and customs and even less familiar with the language and culture of men. Culturally speaking, I didn’t belong there, I belonged with women, somewhere else. I didn’t see any women at this camp, they were in different tents. Just men, and their sons, staring at myself and my colleagues.

Ismail began by introducing himself and explaining where he was from Helmand province, a village called Minrodai. There were 850 families in the camp, which had existed for about 5 years and the majority of families there had lost a family member. Most of the people in his town were farmers, wheat and vegetables mostly, but their land had been destroyed, their homes, everything had been lost. They said that the majority of the destruction in their area must have come from Americans since the Taliban doesn’t have aircrafts; he told a story of 2 jets that had come and dropped bombs on their village. As he spoke men kept coming in and out. There was only one door in the mud tent so when someone came in the room would go pitch dark. We couldn’t really see their faces until they were in front of us and they would whisper something to Ismail and then stare at us. Salena was a journalist, doing her job, Tim, a middle-aged minister, having a conversation about cultural and religious understanding, and Najib was our translator, this all made a certain amount of sense, but who was this black girl with big white glasses and what was she doing there? I tried to blend into the wall.

Salena continued to interview Ismail, who emphasized a need for permanent housing. There is an expression in Pashto about the need for your own graveyard. Recently, NYTimes journalists had come to the camp, over the cold winter some children and an older woman had died because of the cold, and the elders took the journalists to their temporary graveyard. The ministry in charge of refugee affairs had given them wood, coal, blankets and tents but what they wanted was permanent housing, and daily work. The men had been going into town to work as laborers, but there wasn’t enough work. Ismail stressed that what he wanted was a small permanent house, his own graveyard and enough work. At this point Ismail became very busy with the visitors who kept coming in. He explained that his father had just returned from a pilgrimage to Mazar-e-Sharif, a holy place for healing, the visitors were coming to ask him about his father’s health and give him their best wishes. While I was relieved that the people weren’t just coming to ogle us, I was distraught as Ismail left to talk to these visitors and another man began to talk.

Khoja Mohammad took over and explained to us how upset he was about the Qur’an burning at Bagram airbase. When talking about the incident after the fact, a colleague who hadn’t taken down his name, said he had referred to this man simply as ‘Angry Man’. Khoja Mohammad never screamed, but he spoke loudly, pointedly and aggressively, he was very angry that Americans had burned their Holy Book. Although we had explained to him what little influence we had, he told us to tell our people not to do this again. He explained that they were ready to sacrifice if someone did this again. They had planned to protest with the others but their leaders advised them to be patient, and explained that the burning had been a mistake. President Karzai and his ministers advised them to be patient, and Obama had apologized. But he said that the next time they would surely have a jihad.

Khoja Mohammad was also very upset at America for our treatment of Afghan civilians; he told us of wedding parties, town meetings, women and children being bombed. He knew that Americans had satellite vision so he knew that these civilians were being targeted intentionally. We were supposed to be helping Afghanistan to stand on its own feet, not killing their children. He said we should not capture innocent people and say they are Taliban. Khoja Mohammad talked about a friend at Bagram prison who should have been released, he had done nothing wrong, he is innocent. They had written letters and talked to guards and people in charge but to no avail. Khoja Mohammad said that not all men with turbans and beards are Taliban, that these things mean at you are a good Muslim. People with beards and turbans are not enemies, and we should not kill these men. We tried to explain that we didn’t know how we could help, but it didn’t seem to matter, he continued.

Khoja Muhammad said that they elected the president, and they respect him. The Qur’an said that God likes patient people, and so they were being patient. But the Qur’an burning was a terrible thing. They had lost children and an old woman over the winter, but this man said it was not as bad as the Qur’an burning. This holy book that teaches them right from wrong (halal from haram) and was written by God. He told a story about a tent, how without tent poles there can be no ceiling, but God is so Great that he can hold up the entire sky. And here we are burning His words, burning the words of Allah.

Salena asked what he wanted, what his wish was, and he echoed what Ismail had said about a permanent home and some permanent land. Then he continued about the Qur’an burning. He said that Afghans have respected our religion, and we should respect theirs. We explained that there were Muslims in America too, and he said that he knew this. The people who burned the Qur’an should be punished, he said, the US military is a guest in Afghanistan to bring peace. The man finished with the sentiment that they knew how to separate one bad person from many good people and that we should do the same.

Our guide and translator had explained beforehand that when visiting the refugee camp we would need to bring some money with us, the camp was very poor and it was customary to bring an envelope with money. After packing up we gave them some money we had collected for them and explained that it was a small gesture and that we would go home to our constituents and tell them their story, perhaps they would be able to send more money. They counted it and distributed it among the elders to show their transparency. Although it seemed like they had just spent an hour berating us, they didn’t seem to want to let us leave. They offered us lunch and more tea and seemed sad to see us go.

There were many children by the entrance to the camp, some asked us for pens on our way out, Salena and Tim took pictures of some of the children, they seemed very eager to have their pictures taken. I chose not to, partly because I was still in shock from the experience. I spent the rest of the day processing the experience. We talked about it as a group in the evening, for me, I was terrified to be in a room full of angry men staring and screaming at me for an incident I barely even knew about when we left. I felt very out of place. Others said they were surprised by Khoja Mohammad, how he kept returning to the subject of the Qur’an burning as we tried to ask him different questions. Although he seemed to know that we couldn’t do anything about it, he seemed intent on telling us, and repeating to us, that this was a very bad thing that happened and that it must never happen again. As a group, I felt like we were some of the Americans who were most sympathetic to Islam as a religion and to his story, but the fact that he kept repeating himself made me feel victimized and attacked. Like he was yelling and me, and angry at me personally for burning a Qur’an, when I had spent years studying his culture and religion in an effort to better understand.

As we were walking to the car, Najib asked me how I was doing (I think at one point I may have actually had tears in my eyes), and I answered that I was scared, that all these men were angry and screaming at me in a room that I couldn’t get out of. Najib explained that he would never have put me in a dangerous situation, that it was completely safe. Though I was still scared, and in shock, I believed him. The trip was not about danger or recklessness, it was about cultural understanding and human exchange. As the trip continued, I became more comfortable and trusting, but this experience was the most intense, and ultimately the most memorable.

Day 5

Posted on April 18, 2012 by ofurhe

We started out by visiting the red cross orthopedic center in the morning. Our tour guide, Najib, had worked here during the war. We met with the head of the orthopedic center, Najmuddin Helal. In addition to providing medical services for disabled people they also provide social programs, educational, vocational and employment. The factory to make the prosthetics was on the same site of the hospital and they only employed disabled people a type of affirmative action which he referred to as ‘positive discrimination.’ Najmuddin Helal himself had lost both legs to a mine in 1988. He told us that 80% of the amputees who come for treatment are victims of land mines.

After meeting victims of mines it seemed fitting to visit the OMAR mining museum. In it they had examples of every different mine they had found in the countryside including the small butterfly mines that are particularly dangerous to children. They had educational materials, posters telling people not to step in unchecked areas as well as classrooms and even an internet cafe inside an old helicopter. OMAR is a de-mining organization and we saw their name on the side of the road elsewhere, indicating that this place was free of mines.

Also that day we met Fauzia Kufi the Parliamentary representative from Badakhshan and the chair of women’s rights committee. When asked how she came to power she explained that she comes from a political family; her father was elected four times and her older sister represents Tahar province. She expressed some uncertainty about Afghanistan’s future and the future of women. She said she hoped that the US would wait to pull out troops until after the elections in 2014.

Later that day we went into Old Town to take some pictures. Everyone we met was excited to show us what they were selling.

On our way back to the car some kids across the street were throwing snowballs. As I was stepping into the car one of them hit me square in the face with a dirty snowball. It didn’t really hurt but I was pretty shaken up. Boys will be boys.

Day 3

Posted on April 17, 2012 by ofurhe

Saturday is the first day of the Islamic week, like our Monday. We got down to business for some serious meetings and visits. I remember it being particularly cold this day.

We started out by visiting the National Museum. We had to go through security first. We went through a lot of security checkpoints in Afghanistan; the guys generally got a patdown from the main guard with a gun and they asked the women to step into a back room, often behind a curtain, where a woman was waiting to check you. This time when we peeked behind the curtain there was a very old woman who wouldn’t let us leave without having some tea. While the men shivered outside, we drank green tea and smiled with this lady.

There were women working the ticket counter in the museum, though we saw few women on Thursday and Friday, we saw many women on Saturday as they returned to work.

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When we got inside the museum it wasn’t much warmer than outside, in fact, it was quite a bit colder. In the spacious and lofty museum, with its high ceilings, we found guards huddled around a single heater coil.

After walking around the first floor we were able to meet with the museum director, Omara Khan Masoudi. He told us that in 1992 the museum had 100,000 pieces, but after the Soviet Invasion and Taliban civil War 70% of them had been looted.

The image below was taken in 2001, the museum had no roof for two years during the war and thousands of pieces were destroyed. With a grant from National Geographic they have been able to inventory 52,000 pieces so far. Mr. Masoudi was hopeful for the future and was working on building a new building and 12 provincial museums throughout the country.

On display right outside the museum was the first steam engine in Afghanistan, alongside the official car of each King, Queen, or President of Afghanistan who had a car. There are a few pictured below:

Next we went to visit the old palace, however, we weren’t able to get in because it had been mined.

From the palace grounds we could see this guest house, which they are in the process of retrofitting.

After that we went to visit Abdul Hakim Mujahid, who currently serves on Afghanistan’s High Peace Council. There was heavy security getting into his office, we had to sign in, they took pictures with our cameras to make sure they weren’t bombs, and we walked through a cavernous labyrinth before we reached our meeting room. Abdul Hakim Mujahid had been the UN representative for the Taliban for 4 years from 1997-2001. When we met him he was working on an address for the Taliban in Qatar. He stressed the importance of sharia to the Afghan people, saying they had always been the law, and that although the government has changed, the laws cannot.

Lastly, we visited Nasima Paymar of Nasima Silks and Zarif Designs. Like Fatima, she is a widow who founded her own business with help from B-Peace. Everywhere we went they gave us tea, but Nasima also gave us delicious dried mulberries to get us through the end of the day. Below you can see her showing off some designs in the factory, the women working didn’t want their pictures taken.

Thanks again to Tim for the sweet photos!

Day 2

Posted on April 16, 2012 by ofurhe

Day 2 was Friday, March 2. Friday in the Muslim world is like our Sunday, the day of rest.

First we went to this lake high in the mountains called Kargha Lake. In the spring it a destination with paddleboats and picnics. The lake was frozen when we visited, but the view was beautiful. You can see the waterline on this lookout house from when the snow has melted.

Next we went to a refugee camp called Charahi Qambar. This was a pretty singular experience worthy of its own post. For now, here’s a photo from outside the tent.

After you pray it’s time to play. These children were flying kites on the hillside after attending services. There were also people on the hill playing the Afghan national sport of bozkashi. When we first got there, there were a few kites in the sky, by the time we left the entire sky was full of kites.

These two photos are from Babur Garden, a tomb and park named after the Moghul emperor Babur from the 16th century. During the spring this is also a popular picnicking destination.

I kept the ticket to Babur Gardens because I liked the calligraphy:

Returning home after a long day we were greeted by lambs and goats, or as we started calling them; kebabs.

Day 1

Posted on April 16, 2012 by ofurhe

After hearing that my camera had been stolen, my fellow traveler Tim Kutzmark kindly sent me some of his pictures. He’s awesome. I’ll try to post a few of his pictures from each day.

This is a picture of the blue Ali mosque that we went to on the first day.

After a long day of traveling we walked through a nearby cemetery and took pictures of the houses on the hill.

Later we went to see Fatima Akbary, and her company, Golestan-e-Sabak, (I talked a little bit about her in a previous post). She was a widow who had founded an NGO to help women and underprivileged in her community, she ran a girls school, vocational training courses as well as women’s business training.

Below you can see her showing us what had happened over the winter. The tent she had built as a temporary workshop had caved in under the snow and her tools were ruined; she would be unable to fulfill a furniture order that spring.

These are some girls in her class, the one in the pink hijab was reading aloud to us.

Fatima also teaches calligraphy and woodcutting to disabled people, a type of vocational training. This is some of the calligraphy they had done.

Thanks again to Tim for the pictures!

Panjshir Valley

Posted on April 12, 2012 by ofurhe

If you read the FAQs post you know that my camera got stolen with most of my pictures on it. I did have some other pictures on a separate memory card though and my friend just lent me his cardreader so here they are.

These pictures are all from one of the last days of my trip when we drove outside of Kabul to the Panshir Valley.

This is the Panjshir River. The Panjshir valley translates to 5 Lions, and refers to a family from there than had 5 brothers.

We stopped to eat kebabs at a restaurant by the river. I stuck my hand in the water, it was…not warm. In early March the snow was just starting to melt.

This valley is famous for being the birthplace of Ahmad Shah Massoud – an Afghan hero in these parts. This village had his picture on their bridge.

We were relieved when our tour guide told us that it was duck season and the men we kept seeing with rifles were just duckhunters.

From Massoud’s tomb you can see the Panshir valley. The crops were just starting to come in, I’m sure now it’s very green.

These are some pictures of the monument and the tomb where Massoud is buried.

You can see they were doing some construction to build a museum and a new parking lot.

These are some views from the top of the hill.

Afghanistan Trip FAQs

Posted on March 29, 2012 by ofurhe

I’ve been back from Afghanistan for 2 weeks now, here is a list of questions people have asked me about the trip. Please feel free to email me any other questions you might have and I’ll try to address them on the trip page

Why did you go to Afghanistan?
I’ve been trying to go to Afghanistan for almost 8 years. I became interested in Afghanistan in high school when I met Patricia Whalen the International Association of Women Judges and women from the Afghan Women Judges Association. In college I was a Near Eastern Studies major, I studied Persian and Pashto and wrote my thesis on the Legal Systems of Afghanistan. While the University of Chicago supported my studies, I couldn’t find anyone to support a trip to do research.

Who did you go with?
I went with Global Exchange on their International Women’s Day in Kabul Reality Tour. It is their 10th year of doing reality tours in Afghanistan. The trip focused on women’s rights and women’s organizations as well as other NGOs and peacekeeping organizations.

Our tour-guide and translator was Najibulla Sedeqe, who was instrumental in parlaying (sp?) our way into some really interesting situations. My fellow travelers were a Unitarian Minister named Tim Kutzmark and freelance journalist named Salena Tramel.

How did you get there?
My flight went from New York to Frankfurt, Frankfurt to Dubai, Dubai to Kabul.

Where did you stay?
We stayed at the Afghans for Tomorrow Guesthouse which I think is mostly aptly described as kind of a bed and breakfast. Downstairs were the offices for Afghans for Tomorrow. We had a cook, a maid, a porter/night guard and pretty much anything you could ask for.

How is your Arabic?
Terrible, I don’t speak Arabic, but neither do Afghans. In Afghanistan they speak a Persian dialect called Dari and another indo-european language called Pashto. In college I learned the Iranian dialect called Farsi which is very similar to Dari and I took an intensive Pashto course one summer. I didn’t really want to risk being misunderstood in the complex political discussions we were having during the day, but in the mornings and the evenings I was able to talk to the guest house staff in Farsi.

How did you deal with the heat?
Afghanistan is considered the Middle East, but it’s not a part of Arabia or North Africa; it’s not a desert. It’s a mountainous region of Central Asia and as such, the weather was really quite cold. The snow was just starting to melt during the first week of March, and it was 30°-50° F during the day and colder than that at night.

What was a typical day?
We did about equal parts sight seeing and meeting people. Our first meeting was usually around 9, so the 5 of us (Zarif, the driver, Najib, the tour guide, Tim, Salena and myself) would all pile into the toyota corolla around 8:30 and to go to a meeting or two in the morning. Then we would stop for lunch at a restaurant. After that we’d have another meeting or go to see a sight in the afternoon and return home by dark, around 5 or 6. I’d write in my journal, we’d eat dinner at the house and I’d fall asleep.

(When I say sightseeing, it’s true in that we went to see sights; lakes, gardens, mosques, museums, etc., but not in the sense that you might think. There is very little tourism in Afghanistan, especially over the winter, and we didn’t really see any other westerners.)

What did you eat?
Bread and tea were the staples of my diet in Afghanistan. The bread is like the naan you would find at an indian restaurant (except fresher and better) and the chai was generally weak green tea, which was perfect for me because it was just enough caffeine to get through the meeting, but not enough to make me crazy. The tea also kept us warm as not all the buildings were well heated. Every single place we went they offered us tea.
For breakfast we had tea and bread with cheese or jam, and the cook often made us scrambled eggs.
For lunch we ate out at nice-ish restaurants and ate kebabs, rice, bread, sometimes soup, dumplings or curry.
For dinner we had soup and a vegetable dish of some sort, our favorite was eggplant, but we also had delicious cauliflower curry and dumplings.

What did you wear?
I wore the hijab, and I’m glad I did since I didn’t see one woman in public without it. Every islamic country has a different interpretation of women’s dress, in Afghanistan the norm was long loose pants, a long sleeved tunic or shirt that went past your hips and a hijab. It was really cold so I also had a long coat on every day. I wrote a little more about it on this earlier post.

What was the situation for women there?
I’ve been asked this question a few times and I don’t really know how to answer it. I’ll just say this, there were women in almost every job in Afghanistan, police officers, judges, parliamentarians, judo masters, doctors, etc. but the only single women we met were widows, and we didn’t meet any women who didn’t have children. We rarely saw women on the street on the weekends (Thursday and Friday are the weekend in Kabul) and in more conservative areas we saw women only in burkas.

Where did you go?
We stayed mostly in Kabul but we took a day trip to the Panjshir valley to see Massoud’s tomb and a day trip to the village of Istalif.

Did you take pictures?
I did, but unfortunately my house was robbed last week and they stole the camera with most of my pictures on it before I got a chance to upload them. My fellow travelers took some great pictures though so I will link to them, and I also have one memory card with some of my pictures but I haven’t been able to see what was on it.

How did they feel about Americans and the War on Terror?
In Kabul I heard 3 things with surprising consistency; the biggest problem or challenge in the country is lack of security, the Pakistani government is to blame for many of the country’s problems, and everyone we asked wanted to keep US or international involvement in some respect. We talked mostly to middle-class urbanites in Kabul, but this was the anecdotal evidence we were able to gather.

You can see the evidence of 30 years of war in and around Kabul, in every neighborhood our tour guide pointed out a building that had a suicide bomb attack, the palace and museum were destroyed, we went through check-points almost every day. But I can’t imagine what it’s like in the countryside.

What about the Qur’an burning and the massacre?
I got to Afghanstan days after the Qur’an burning and the streets were calm. Our tour guide told us that there had been some peaceful protests where the police took care of security, but that these were over. The people we talked to were very upset about what happened, but they had heard Obama’s apology and they understood that it was an accident, they also said their mullas had told them to be patient and calm. I was in New York when the massacre happened and haven’t heard what the Afghan reaction has been.

Naqib the Guard

Posted on March 5, 2012 by ofurhe

Naqibulla is the night guard at the guest house where I am staying. We hit it off initially because he was impressed that I speak some Farsi (my Persian is okay, I can have simple conversations which is fine for the night porter but not great for interviewing a member of parliament, I leave that to our tour guide and translator extraordinaire, Najib). He likes my Iranian accent because during the Taliban he moved to Iran with his family.

He is also stunned by my ‘seeah post‘ or black skin. He says he likes black people. They are good people. There are none in his country but there is a region in Iran called Bandar Abbas that has a lot of Africans. He played me a bandari music video on his phone and showed me his black friend on Facebook (who looked South Asian to me).

He says we are like brother and sister now. He gives me extra blankets and extra wood for my woodstove at night. When I woke up in the morning and my voice was hoarse he asked if I was sick and if my room was warm enough. It was just that he was the first person I’d spoken to, but it was sweet that he was concerned.

He is about my age, 22, but he says since I am a year older that in Afghan culture he should wait on me and bring me chai. He is married and only had 4 years of school because of the problems in his country. In the states when you are a student it means you are poor, here it means you are rich enough to that your family can afford to not have you working. I have gone from the 99% to the 1%, and it feels very strange to have a cook, a driver, a maid and a porter for a week.

Today he asked if i could take a picture with him before I leave. I’m sure he’ll want to show everyone his black friend.
It’s all pretty politically incorrect and frankly makes me a bit uncomfortable, but this whole trip is about stepping outside of my comfort zone a bit, and Naqib is genuine and sweet.

Gotta brush my hair and put on a hijab before the cook comes in to tell me breakfast is served. Laterz.

Framing the Conversation

Posted on March 1, 2012 by ofurhe

I arrived in Kabul this morning. Two days ago I was in New York staying with a friend from high school. He is a highly skilled craftsman who makes, among other things, gorgeous wooden frames. He recently found a rare New York apartment that let him set up a small woodworking studio downstairs and he’s saving up for a bandsaw.

Today I visited another place that makes frames; Golestan Sabak. This school, run by a wonderful widow named Fatima Akbari, teaches women and children. The students learn not just literacy but also vocations like embroidery and carpentry. In particular we visited the workshop where disabled people learn woodcarving, calligraphy and frame-making. 3 weeks ago a big snow dump caused her tent to collapse, destroying their electric saw.

Another recent New York conversation echoes in my head. My friend and I were eating lunch at Columbia where some students were protesting the settlements in Gaza. I asked my friend how he felt about the protest and he said essentially ‘Think Globally Act Locally’ that there are plenty of problems to deal with in New York. But one of the problems is misinformation. People just don’t know about the settlements or about women’s carpentry workshops in Afghanistan. Well maybe a couple people do now.

Ofurhe Igbinedion

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