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PairDieInGazaMarch

We’re ready for every possible scenario, even if they start firing at us. Nowadays, to be a Palestinian is to be an almost dead person. Palestinians die every day and we know that’s part of our reality. I was at the Erez checkpoint back in 2011 [during the last return march]; I’ve seen the full force of Israel’s cruelty.

The whole idea is based on UN Security Council Resolution 194 (the right of return) and the current unbearable living conditions in Gaza. It is actually a peaceful act. We want to ask the Israelis to welcome as if we were visitors from another country, the same way they welcome refugees in certain countries in Europe — though we’re not actually visitors here.

—Hasan al-Kurd (one of the March organizers)

I have been many times to Gaza since my first trip in 2004. Mainly to support the young adults programs of the American Friends Service Committee, but also to photograph what I observe within the locked box of the Gaza Strip. Some call it the largest open air prison on earth. During my first visit, now 14 years ago, I asked a friend there if he’d concur: no, he said, worse, the largest grave yard on earth. His observation then was up to date and prescient. He’d declared this before the major Israeli attacks of Operation Cast Lead (2008-2009) and Operation Protective Edge (2014). Death by Israeli live ammunition, rockets, bombs, white phosphorus, cluster bombs, and depleted uranium warheads against Palestinians, usually young adults, usually civilians, some perhaps who’ve I’ve taught photography to or photographed, and death by illness, despair, suicide, resistance, and the myriad of other Israeli violence over the years.

…an illegality that pains the eye and outrages the heart, if the eye be not blind and the heart be not callous or corrupt.

—B’Tselem, referring to Israeli soldiers accepting orders to shoot unarmed, nonviolent protesters in Gaza

First some relatively positive news, an instance of revived international attention on Gaza, I hope one among many: the demonstration and die-in last week in front of the Israeli Consulate in Boston. Here are some photos:

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And a video showing one of the organizers, Nancy Murray, speaking about Gaza.




Then news from the front: The Great Return March,
dated perhaps because this report is from the first week of a strategic 45 day nonviolent expression of frustration and hope.

Palestinians participate in a tent city protest commemorating Land Day, with Israeli soldiers seen below in the foreground on-March 30-Photographer- Jack Guez:AFP via Getty ImagesSM2

Palestinians at the Israeli border, Gaza Strip, March 30, 2018

Friday’s protests [March 30, 2018], which Israel estimated drew 40,000 people, were the first of six weeks of planned anti-Israel actions meant to dramatize the Palestinians’ plight as refugees. Israel said Sunday that Gaza militants used civilian demonstrators as cover as they fired at soldiers and tried to lay explosives near the border fence. Ismail Haniyeh, the leader of the militant Hamas group that rules Gaza and sponsored the protests, called the killings a “massacre.”

Read more

A young Palestinian looks at a poster listing the villages that demonstrators at the Great March of Return plan to return to once the Palestinian right of return is honored. (Photo- Moha

A young Palestinian looks at a poster listing the villages that demonstrators at the Great March of Return plan to return to once the Palestinian right of return is honored. (Photo- Mohammed Asad)

 

Gaza Martyrs

Martyrs, killed on March 30, 2018

 

We’re a group of 20 organizers, only two of whom are affiliated with Hamas. Actually, most of us, including myself, are leftists. All the political parties in Palestine are behind us and supporting us, and Hamas — being an elected party — is one of those parties.

If we’d felt that [Hamas], or any other party for that matter, tried to control the protest and make it about them, we wouldn’t let them. Hamas is actually very understanding on that point.

—Hasan al-Kurd

ProtectiveEdge-Breaking Silence-map only

Thanks to Breaking the Silence

Recent comments from some of my friends in Gaza:

Great efforts dear.. keep supporting us to end the siege and live a human life like all others in the world
—Montaser Abu Kmeil

Montaser

 


Thank you Skip for sharing with such a good material. Gaza is bleeding these day although the protesters are peacefully demonstrating without any violence. Many people killed and hundreds were wounded. We anticipate a real action from your side to raise American awareness on the Palestinian rights to live in peace and security side by side with Israel.
In justice and peace in the holy land,

—Mustafa ElHawi

Al Hawi.jpg

 


Thank you so much dear Skip, your solidarity and support highly appreciated, for sure your video and photos will encourage us to end the Israeli occupation. 
Be well, and please keep in touch. 

—Ibrahem ElShatali
Ibrahem ElShatali SM

Palestine en vue

LINKS:

With the Great Return March, Palestinians Are Demanding a Life of Dignity

“Israeli snipers open fire on Gaza protests second week in a row”

“Gaza ‘Return March’ organizer: ‘We’ll ensure it doesn’t escalate to violence — on our end'”

“Palestinian Journalist Yaser Murtaja Killed by Israel Sniper on Gaza Border”

Reading Maimonides in Gaza, by Marilyn Garson (2018)
From 2011 to 2015, experience in Gaza’s economic sector

This is How We Fought in Gaza, Soldiers׳ testimonies and photographs from “Operation Protective Edge,” by Breaking the Silence (2014)

Book suggestion: Night in Gaza, by Mads Gilbert (2015)
A participant’s view by a Norwegian medical doctor in hospitals during Israel’s assault on Gaza in 2014, Operation Protective Edge, with excellent photographs by the author. Israel has now banned him from entering the region for life.

Night in Gaza 2

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Accounts from my journal, written while I photographed Detroit in June 2017—or writing later. 

PHOTOS

June 14, 2017, Wednesday, Detroit

Six major events from yesterday [June 13, 2017], 4 actually occurred, 2 did not.

1-W. LENT ME HER CAR

She picked me up at the house; we drove to the home of Rev. Edwin Rowe and his wife, Nida. G. met us there later with their dog B. who would stay with the Rowe’s while the C’s vacationed in Canada. We discussed the recent water conference, agreeing it was overly stuffed with presenters. And debated other matters of Detroit relevance.

Rowe has recently retired as pastor of Central Methodist [which currently courageously provides sanctuary for a person under threat of deportation] and remains a key figure in justice actions locally. I noticed that his wife [recently deceased] is equally activist, well-informed, well-spoken, and with passions equivalent to her husband’s. A good and laudable and enviable partnership. As are W. and G. (reminding me of one of my chief absences currently, which might change.)

Rowe-Detroit-water-conferenceIMG_5906

Rev. Edwin Rowe, member of People’s Water Board Coalition, Public Health Committee

 

2-Editorial meeting of the new magazine, Riverwise

riverwiseMag_Summer2017_web_1_lwe

Using my new fleet wheels I drove to the Boggs Center and, at Kim’s invitation, sat in on an editorial meeting of the new magazine, Riverwise. I was impressed with the expertise, dedication, passions, and honestly expressed feelings of the group. I photographed this, trying my best to make a way out of no way—interesting photos of people talking. Emotions surged when one woman sitting next to me asked Eric, who seemed to be the generative engine of the enterprise, why he imposed urgency on the group and process. I’d felt he was doing his job leading the group, even tho he may not have been the officially acknowledged leader. This was an honest interchange coming near the meeting’s end.

Kim Sherobbi, Eric Campbell

Kim Sherobbi & Eric Campbell

Shea Howell

Shea Howell

They mainly discussed issues No. 3 and what I presume will be No. 4, the anniversary issue. Eric called for more contemporary-themed articles, implying they’ve already covered campaigns from the past. They all agree the magazine has been a success. I wanted to add, in large part because of the superb graphic design (which might be by Bill Wylie-Kellermann’s daughter, Lucia, referred to as Lucy). Shea announced that funding would continue for another 2 years. When Rich mentioned the Dudley Street Neighborhood Initiative’s land trust, I added the key element of eminent domain, and suggested that organization might warrant an article.

They have plenty of ideas but were looking for writers. Shea Howell contributed a literary flair to the meeting. I’ve read much of her writing in the Boggs Center blog and always appreciate it, pithy, personal, analytic all at once. I picked up many copies and hope to distribute them. Eric intimated they might solicit me to do a photo essay. I could send them a link to my water conference series.

 

3-WE THE PEOPLE OF DETROIT

Church-Detroit-Monica_Lewis_Patrick-We_the_People_of_Detroit-_DSC6902

St. Peter’s Episcopal Church

A visit I’d intended did not occur. I’d planned to visit the office of We the People of Detroit. Monica had told me it is in St. Peter’s Episcopal Church which had been pastored by Bill Wylie-Kellermann (he’s retired.). After much labor and confusion I found the church (further toward downtown than I recall, thinking it was within blocks of the old Michigan Central Railroad station), located what I assumed was the main door, pushed a button, and waited. Nothing happened. Later, my phone’s battery charge draining, I left a message with Monica about my problems. When I arrived home I discovered from her a series of contacts; presumably I’m to phone or write these people for photo leads. What about the office? Does it exist only on paper or in cyberspace?

The website does not give location or a direct phone contact. I tried phoning their emergency number set up for people who’ve lost their water, and reached a recorded message. How many live people are actually active with We the People? Perhaps it’s like our Friends Meeting Palestine-Israel team, or our New England Yearly Meeting Palestine-Israel team, functioning but without a central location.

My phone in this case was useless. When I put in St. Peters, about 5 sites popped up on maps, none of them anywhere near the actual site. When I tried St. Peters in the Chrome browser, same problem. And the We the People website itself was absolutely no help.

One benefit of this fruitless pursuit was driving straight thru downtown Detroit, Boggs Center on the east side, St. Peters on the west. I wanted to stay off main highways but not become snarled in downtown traffic. Jefferson Avenue runs straight thru and somehow under the Cobo Center and then seems to morph into Michigan Avenue.

 

4-SWORDS INTO PLOWSHARES PEACE CENTER & GALLERY 

Swords gallery

Courtesy of the Swords Gallery

I did manage to drop by the Swords into Plowshares Peace Center and Gallery and meet Clara Law, the director, who is much beleaguered in her thankless role of trying to sustain Swords. We tried to hook my laptop with the TV, failed, but succeeded in hooking it to a video projector. Of much value was simply meeting Clara for an extended period, talking about the gallery and the setup for next Monday’s show, and supporting her. Currently on exhibit is a series of photos made by local high schoolers, Focus on the Mission: Diversity and Leadership, and some of the photos show water which can be a good tie in with my show, Holy Water—The Jordan River, Sea of Galilee, & Dead Sea. She agreed it would be OK to invite Monica Lewis Patrick to offer a short presentation about local water issues. And liked the idea of asking the audience to view the school exhibit.

I feel for Clara, directing a facility that is centrally located near the city center (opposite Comerica Park baseball stadium), with lots of vehicle traffic, but yet with few links to the community, especially the schools which we discussed could be a good source of audience. I explained that my connection with Detroit runs thru the gallery and Wink—an exhibit there in the late 1990s about the pilgrimage from Auschwitz to Hiroshima. Wink I believe set up my upcoming slideshow because, having done a home show at her place, Clara in attendance, Wink felt the gallery would be a better site—and less work for her. I’m reassured when people who’ve seen one of my shows ask for another.

 

5-NOBLE SCHOOL

Latoyia Webb Harris, Noble School Principal

Latoyia Webb Harris, Noble School Principal

The meeting at Noble School with some girls who’d done a photographic project with Kim did not happen. I simply ran out of time. I alerted Kim to this possibility when I was at Swords and she replied this is not a problem; we can probably reschedule for later this week or even next, if school is still in session. I’d hate to miss this opportunity because it might be an entrée to the school to exploit more deeply for my next trip here. (If there is one. I’m beginning to think I’m nearing the end of active photography and must now open the book-editing phase.)

 

6-MONTHLY POLICE PRECINCT COMMUNITY MEETING 

I’d learned about this at the Birwood Block Club meeting the day before. Not sure of time and place, when I pulled up to the police station near the McDonald’s that I’ve used for my Internet office, I observed many folks walking into the station. Must be the place! More than 50 people, all Black except for 2 officers and me, packed into the room. We heard from the commander, a fat fellow with a good sense of humor, his new deputy who may have been Hispanic, and a female Black officer. All were loose and funny and informative as they outlined recent crime stats. Which were mixed—homicides up, burglaries up, arson and other indices down. Many in the audience seemed to know the officers. When the woman officer introduced a tough-looking Black officer as he set up to give a slideshow about active shooters the crowd roared its approval and love.

Officer V. Wyatt

Officer V. Wyatt

I have never seen anything like this: a meeting between potential adversaries, a contingent of human beings who claim to protect and serve another contingent and who might actually do that. Does Cambridge or Boston have equivalent community meetings? I should check, and if true for Cambridge, attend one.

Audience-Detroit-police-IMG_6404

Unsure about photographing, I waited about 10 minutes into the program. I might have asked someone, like the president of the community association who chaired the meeting, or the commander. But I didn’t. I might have chosen a seat in the back of the room where I could surreptitiously photograph with my long Canon lens. But I didn’t. I could brazenly shoot from my front seat and wait for reactions, possibly hostile. I didn’t do that either. Being one of the few Whites I already am conspicuous. Oh, what to do?

The Lou Jones technique which I suggest to my students! That might work. So I brought out my camera, rested it in my lap, watched to see if the officer who was speaking noticed it. I couldn’t really tell. Hold it about 8 inches from my lap. Watch the officer. Couldn’t tell. Put it to my eye without snapping. No reaction. Make a few images, put down the camera, wait, watch. No negative reaction. Proceed. I photographed the entire 2 hour meeting, report, demonstration of CPR (Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation for heart attacks), distribution of practice kits, slideshow about active shooters, announcements, etc. No problem. No one stopped me, no one asked what I was doing, how I’d use the photos, who I was. Either they didn’t care, didn’t notice, or possibly made some benign assumption. Now to review the photos.

Officer-Detroit-police-IMG_6466

Luckily the seat I chose, initially because it was the only remaining seat in the front (soon to be in the 2nd aisle because of new seating for late-comers), was next to Juanita, a short, roly-poly, gregarious woman. She fed me background info about the meetings, regularity, participation, generally good police relations, contacts with local police, etc. My neighbor, Gloria, attended also, so, altho the only White other than 2 cops, others may have seen me conversing genially with Black people and thought, well, this guy seems to know his way around. When I exited, numerous people in suits if guys, dresses if gals, approached me, all candidates for local office, as if I actually resided in this neighborhood. I glowed, thinking, I’ve arrived. Not only to Detroit, but to my childhood neighborhood of Chicago’s Southside. This is what life might be like if I moved back or had remained on the Southside of Chicago. Glory be!

 

HOME

Finally, after a long, hot, trying day, with some successes, I arrived home (after making a stop at the local market for catfish, chicken, and above all else watermelon which would be difficult to transport by bike), heated up some leftovers, including my delicious turkey or chicken patties, checked email, read Sun Magazine, and hit the floor cushions to sleep soundly.

LINKS

Riverwise magazine

We the People of Detroit

“50 years after uprising, police work to build trust,” by George Hunter, July 2017

Noble School ratings

 

 

Cape Town, South Africa is about to become the first major city in the world to run out of water. This is what that will be like. (video)

TO BE CONTINUED

Pearl-Fran Memorial

Accounts from my journal, written while I photographed Detroit in June 2017—or writing later. 

Omnipresent yet evanescent, block clubs are sometimes the major outlets for community organizing in the city—especially in neighborhoods otherwise lacking in political strength and clout. 

—A review by Amanda I. Seligman of Chicago’s Block Clubs, How Neighbors Shape the City 

Chicago's Block Clubs

PHOTOS

June 13, 2017, Tuesday, Detroit

Kim Sherrobi, bless her, invited me to a meeting of neighbors called the Birwood Block Club Association which exists in a cluster of neighborhood clubs. Apparently not focused on changing the system that led to the miserable state of Detroit, they focus instead on remediating some of the effects. As I wrote S.F. yesterday (very appreciative of her letter, delayed because she mistakenly assumed she’d written a response to my first Detroit letter—age related memory slippage?):

weatherwise, like in your area, we are hot! but with relatively low humidity which partially mitigates the pain. there is an ozone alert so for this and other reasons, i’ve minimized my bike travels. this evening i visited neighbors, in part to find leads for grass cutters. the grass in my place is more than 1 ft tall.

the international water conference [which I attended for the first 4 days of this trip] has been a mixed experience: lots of important info but little opportunity to participate. it’s the old top down, banking model of education. we are the experts with the info you need and probably lack, so sit in your seats and pay attention. we heard many painful stories from flint folks, the younger ones visibly suffering medical effects from contaminated water. i met a woman at the conference with water shut off experience. she agreed i could interview her next saturday.

today i attended a meeting of neighborhood activists who’ve formed a cluster group to improve their neighborhood. even in warm weather kids tend to remain indoors playing video games so one project is to teach outdoor games like skip rope, hide and seek, hopscotch, etc. imagine growing up without that play. another project which i hope to attend this saturday is to board up abandoned houses. another project is a bike parade which unfortunately i’ll miss because of timing. tomorrow evening i may attend a neighborhood meeting with local police. this is truly the grassroots.

tomorrow i attend an editorial meeting of a new publication called riverwise, all about and from the roots of detroit. and in the afternoon, maybe, i’ll finally gain access to the local elementary-middle school, noble, to interview some 8th grade girls who’ve completed a photo project about detroit. on wednesday i hope to visit flint for the first time and begin photography there. a friend has lent me her car thru friday.

one huge challenge of my detroit work is balancing the photography with house maintenance. K., the house owner living in ann arbor, expects me to do at least minimal house work. i swept and dusted, cleaned the tub, fixed some fans, look into grass cutting, and with her moved furniture back after she’d had the rugs torn up and new wooden floors installed. this cuts into my photo time but i wish to help. i pay her as well.

hoping your weather cools off and your work and rc and friendship circles flourish.

Birwood Block Club Association

The block club granted me permission to photograph freely so I plied my usual trade of listening with my ears (and eyes to pick up nuances of language), while using both eyes to search for photographable situations. I find when I tune to the photography, my hearing shuts down. And when I tune to hearing, I tend not to notice ways to use my camera.

The meeting was lively, interactive, synergistic, and productive. Fun as well. It was their first meeting of the summer, which will continue monthly, if energy can be sustained. The dynamic is opposite that of the water conference. The energy reminded me of Global Village Squares that I attended in 2015 in Bethlehem, organized by a team of Israelis and Palestinians, including Eric Yellin. One might argue the purposes of the water conference differed dramatically from those of the neighborhood meetings and Global Village Squares—to provide info. But I suspect forming networks and sharing knowledge and experience, beyond that of the presenters, remains a key ingredient. Or could be.

Birwood Block Club, Kim Sherrobi (R)

Birwood Block Club

Kim has invited me to other meetings today, which I wrote S.F. about. Weaving into today might be a drop-in visit to the Swords into Plowshares Gallery and Clara, its director, to test my laptop connection with their TV. And a visit to the office of We the People of Detroit to meet Sisley, the office manager, and gain more leads for water justice photography.

I reached Kate Levy of We the People, a local videographer and photographer whom I spoke with before coming here. She strongly advised me to not photograph suffering people but instead concentrate on water being shut off, water centers, hotline, etc, and activists. I wonder about this, understanding that too much media concentration on suffering can debilitate a movement but suffering is one of the ventricles at the heart of water injustice in Detroit. Another is opposition and renewal. I think about Eugene Smith’s monumental Minimata, how it skillfully blended both ingredients. The single photo that has risen in prominence from that series is of the mother bathing her daughter in a bath. Yet images of the struggle, especially the meetings with company officials, tend not to be seen as often.

Tomoko Uemura in Her Bath, photo by W. Eugene Smith from Minimata

I will accept guidance from others, We the People in particular, notably one of its founders, Monica Lewis-Patrick. Perhaps also Kim Redigan if she returns my call.

Free Water Distribution by We the People of Detroit

Yesterday was fiercely hot and for the second day I was mostly indoors and off my bike. Today I hope to drive. George and Wink plan to drop off her car here this morning, any minute now, as they head for a vacation in Canada.

The invasion of the Quotidian

As I wrote S.F., I struggle with balancing photography with housework. K. wants me to find someone to mow the foot-high grass. Last evening I checked with Johnny who greeted me warmly. He told me to ask a neighbor who has the contact info for a grass cutter. I spoke with her, a reasonably long, congenial, and detailed conversation. She claimed that K. has refused to pay Gloria for the grass cutting she does, or maybe she refused to pay a higher fee that Gloria requested. So Gloria no longer mows the grass. I promised to speak with K. about this, but how to do it in a respectful, encouraging way? Perhaps with questions first rather than accusations. And I promised not to disclose my info source.

K. seems to experience a dichotomous relationship with Detroit and the house: holding on to the house which suggests some impossible-to-sever tie, and resisting being here and doing much with the house.

My home (as a short-term guest)

 

My kitchen

In the evening I put out the trash, including the pile I’d insisted on making when working with K. Old cords, phones, pre-vinyl recordings, water pipes, etc, and will recycle cardboard boxes. This represents some of the very little that K. has trashed. Among the still huge collection of useless items that if cleared might clear the brain as well.

Both Kim’s, Sherobbi and Redigan, seem driven. Kim S. told me yesterday she’s trying to slow down, drop some of her projects. Kim R. is known as a highly committed and hard-working activist. Incentives or quests, other than the obvious and political, for this bruising pace of work might lie in their personal stories, something not satisfied. Is it for a partner, a loved one? Does this also motivate me?

Photography

I worked further on my first set of photos, portraits from the conference. I struggled hard to develop something worth viewing from the series of people speaking against the large screen which projected their images from other events. The differential in color, contrast, and intensity of light is nearly impossible to bridge. Using a combo of decreased exposure and decreased contrast (contrary to expectation) led to the best I’ve been able to do so far. I sent S.F. my first image from this current phase, of Maureen Taylor, fiery leader.

Maureen Taylor

My new iPhone is useful: unlimited phone calls, texting, maps, hotspot, compass, current location, and instant info are among the most useful tools for me. I am less easily lost, more easily in touch, perhaps less easily confused.

This is regardless of the endlessly vexing problems I’m having with Internet speed and hotspot use.

Despite the heat, despite my uncertainty and worries about my project, despite the noxious house tasks I should take on, despite questions about SF, I try to retire each evening to the large soft chair in the front room and the hassock to read more in the current issue of Sun Magazine. This calms me and readies me for a long sleep on the cushions on the floor in the sunroom.

While speaking with K. yesterday about the house, in particular about the heat, the absence of openable windows, the possibility that I could keep front and back doors open, with barred gates locked, to blow cool air thru the house, I mentioned my vision of someone knocking on the door, pointing a gun at me, demanding entrance. What would be my options? Duck and hide? Open the door and be robbed? Resist and be shot?

She tried to placate me suggesting this would never happen. I remain unconvinced. Thru the night I kept the doors closed and locked, fan on low blowing on me. This morning I opened the door to the cooler outer world and turned fans on high.

TO BE CONTINUED

LINKS

“With few resources, block clubs find ways to stabilize and rejuvenate communities across Detroit,” by Aaron Mondry, December 2017

Interview with Kim Sherrobi, Hanan Yahya 2, 2015

Birwood Block Club FaceBook page

Littlefield Community (near where I stay)

ListeningToNativeVoices

The old people came literally to love the soil, and they sat or reclined on the ground with a feeling of being close to a mothering power. It was good for the skin to touch the earth, and the old people liked to remove their moccasins and walk with bare feet on the sacred earth. Their tipis were built upon the earth and their altars were made of earth. The birds that flew in the air came to rest upon the earth, and it was the final abiding place of all things that lived and grew. The soil was soothing, strengthening, cleansing, and healing. This is why the old Indian still sits upon the earth instead of propping himself up and away from its life-giving forces. For him, to sit or lie upon the ground is to be able to think more deeply and to feel more keenly. He can see more clearly into the mysteries of life and come closer in kinship to other lives about him.

—Chief Luther Standing Bear

PHOTOS

St. Francis House

Francis House and Agape Pond

AGAPE COMMUNITY & ST. FRANCIS

Agape Community’s annual St. Francis Day celebration, this year with the theme, “Listening to Native Voices, Standing Rock is Everywhere,” seeded by Brayton Shanley’s trip last winter to deliver straw bales to Standing Rock—what I believed then was clearly a fool’s errand—drew more than our usual maximum of 200. Suzanne Shanley (his wife and co-founder and co-director) thought maybe 400-500 attended. Clearly the line of parked cars on the road extended further than I’d ever seen it. I was in a good position to gauge because I’ve been on parking duty for years.

After parking and walking and lugging, a person approaches Agape and hears the drum, smells the sweet grass and is smudged, spots the tipi placed strategically at the entrance of the main gathering area, sees many people in brightly colored regalia, watches the dancers, notices the tent holding some 300 chairs (which would be a good index for crowd size estimate), and then spies all the food and beverages arrayed on many tables. Ah, I am here!

IMG_9536by Dave Legg - Listening to Native Voices at Agape-sm copy

Photo: David Legg © 2017

MY NATIVE HISTORY

I am here, thought I, because of my Native heritage, not in my genes but in my history. This panoply of native elements at Agape reawakened my experiences with Lakota Sioux people, dating back to my direct introduction in 1982, extending to my month-long visit to the Rosebud Reservation the following year, stretching to the crucial stop Louise, my former partner, and I made in the summer of 1990 at Rosebud and Pine Ridge during our cross-country journey. We learned about the upcoming Bigfoot centennial ride, which led to our participation in the Bigfoot Memorial Ride to Wounded Knee that winter. That had been preceded and was followed by other personal Indian connections, like the National Day of Mourning, Boston American Indian Center, Slow Turtle, Wampanoag powwows in Mashpee on Cape Cod, visits to the Penobscot and Passamaquoddy Reservations in Maine, American Friends Service Committee Indian program in Maine, etc. Names from Rosebud and Pine Ridge came back to me: Birgil Kills Straight, Ron McNeil, Mr. Kills in Water, Shirley Crazy Bull, Amy Respects Nothing, Mr. Tall Bear, Mrs. White Lightning, as names have also fled my memory such as Louise’s MIT student and her son who was so honored after the ride, and the first Lakota’s I met in 1982 when I picked them up as they hitchhiked across the rez. Fortunately, as a steering committee (AKA Mission Council) member I was able to weave some of my experience into planning the event, but Brayton’s trip was truly the major trigger.

Teepees2-4 SM

Big Foot Memorial Ride to Wounded Knee, Pine Ridge Reservation, December 1990. Photo: Skip Schiel © 1990

Growing up and slowly realizing what Whites had done to Indians in the past created a longing in me to return to that past and as a White person counter history. (With Louise, I made an effort during the Big Foot Ride.) Impossible but now I can struggle for Palestinian rights, one of my major current photographic projects.

MY PHOTOGRAPHIC EXHIBITS

Fitting with the theme of sacred water, I exhibited photographs about water justice in Palestine and Michigan, demonstrating parallels. When I entered the chapel/exhibit room during lunch and a little after I’d been scheduled to speak, around 12:30, no one was there. Then a few people dribbled in and then—thanks to Sam, a fellow Mission Council member who’d help promote the exhibit—suddenly others popped in, filling the room. I announced myself as the photographer, leading to small conversations, speaking in a loud voice to be heard by others, but without interrupting their viewing.

photo exhibit

A photo exhibit by Skip Schiel, “From Palestine to Detroit and Flint: Water Justice”

Despite the small size of the space I was able to show most of what I’d brought, some 12 photos from the 2 sets, Palestine and Michigan, along with some descriptive panels outlining water politics. Without being explicit, I suspect the viewers could make their own connections between the Stand Rock Water Protectors and the struggles in Palestine, Flint, and Detroit. I also exhibited my photos from the Wounded Knee Memorial Ride, placing them in Francis House near the wood stove, centrally located.

wounded knee

Site of the Wounded Knee Massacre in 1890. Photo: Skip Schiel © 1990

arvol looking horse

Chief Arvol Looking Horse, Keeper of the Sacred White Buffalo Calf Pipe, at St Francis Day

CHIEF ARVOL LOOKING HORSE

Chief Arvol Looking Horse, keeper of the Sacred White Buffalo Calf Pipe, was the anchor and perhaps major draw of the event. Luckily, because El, my fellow Mission Council member, and I arrived the day before to help set up, we were with Arvol and other Indian participants like Beatrice, informally during lunch and dinner. He seemed shy, not prepared to be such a major figure, tall and thin, weak and perhaps ailing, tired—and, I reluctantly claim, not skilled in public speaking. Rather, he appears, unintentionally, to play the role of the proverbial Holy Person. A bit cryptic, uniformly serious with slight breaks in this publicly and many breaks in smaller company, definitely rambling and repetitive; in short, for me, a disappointment as a speaker. Listening to him I often wondered what would be my experience with other Holy Persons, Gandhi, Thoreau, Dorothy Day, Rachel Corrie, Thomas Merton, Jesus, Mohammed. I know Martin Luther King Jr and Malcolm X would impress as speakers, but what of these others whose words have resonated thru the centuries? How well did they speak in person?

A “disease of the mind” has set in world leaders and many members of our global community, with their belief that a solution of retaliation and destruction of peoples will bring peace. In our prophecies it is told that we are now at the crossroads: Either unite spiritually as a global nation, or be faced with chaos, disasters, diseases, and tears from our relatives’ eyes. We are the only species that is destroying the source of life, meaning Mother Earth, in the name of power, mineral resources, and ownership of land. Using chemicals and methods of warfare that are doing irreversible damage, as Mother Earth is becoming tired and cannot sustain any more impacts of war. I ask you to join me on this endeavor. Our vision is for the peoples of all continents, regardless of their beliefs in the Creator, to come together as one at their Sacred Sites to pray and meditate and commune with one another, thus promoting an energy shift to heal our Mother Earth and achieve a universal consciousness toward attaining Peace.

—Chief Arvol Looking Horse

Perhaps because of the theme I remet many folks from various movements and decades who I’d not seen in years: Paula G. and Jim, Suzanne C., Nelia who I belated realized had been with Brayton and Tim delivering the straw bales (she is blind and I know her from Quaker gatherings, an indomitable spirit), John S. who brought 3 young people in his van, Ricky and Deb from the Auschwitz to Hiroshima pilgrimage in 1995; along with many Agape stalwarts like Eileen E, Kathleen and Dave Legg (Dave my photographic colleague at most Francis Days, this time we collaborated especially importantly because of the conflicting photographic policies—not during prayer, OK during most ceremonies, not Arvol too much because he gets distracted, etc; Pat W. who is another photographic colleague, and Pat F.); the largest contingent of Friends Meeting Cambridge Quakers in memory including David A., Minga C-B, Suzanne C., Maeve, Diana L., Dinah S., Patti and Bill M., but no one from my peace and social concerns committee except Suzanne C; and others whose names I’ve forgotten now and yet others whose faces were familiar but I didn’t know names. Such community strengthening was a major part of the event, not only for me I’m sure.

Who was missing? Louise most vitally, the only human being on the planet I share these issues so deeply with; my fellow Quakers and activists, Jews especially from the Palestinian rights movement; S. which pains me; M., surprisingly not there; Rob, Chuck, Lynn, and other close friends and family members. But this is contemporary life, contemporary community: wide-spread and fragmented.

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Children’s view of the event, photo by Emily

WATER

As expected, water was a major theme—water is life, Mni Wiconi (pronounced mnee wi-choh-nee), Water is Life. Quabbin Reservoir was in the background, Agape Pond in the foreground where we held the water ceremony. I was able to do the ceremony twice, once early Saturday morning led by Beatrice Menase Kwe Jackson, known as Bea, and Peggy, not photographing then; and at the conclusion of the program, photographing it from across the pond. As with Indians, water is a crucial ingredient in my life but I’ll not recount all the elements which began with nearly drowning when I was about 3 years old, rescued (as the family tells it, I have no conscious memory) by Fran, my dad. As the major ceremony began, rain very lightly fell, more speckles than drops, signaling sky presence of water. And thru the day clouds came and parted, at one point in the late afternoon singeing the treetops behind the garden, which stunned and awakened me once again to the power of light. I photographed it.

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Water Ceremony at Agape Pond

Women and men lined up separately by the pond. After being smudged with sage and sweetgrass, two men assisted one woman as she threw tobacco into the water, tenderly hooking arms, for the moment intimate, followed by water from a copper cup. Once the women had done this, at least during the morning when we had fewer people, women helped the men. In the afternoon musicians played guitar and violin and sang, which added greatly to the otherwise long and repetitive ceremony. I doubt this was official Lakota, or even Indian, maybe an amalgam of various traditions. I noticed Arvol and most Indians did not participate.

STORIES

Then there were all the stories from Indians, mainly of current suffering and struggle. The genocide continues, but now with a velvet glove. One group in particular, the Lenape from New Jersey, who own land, but because of insanely difficult conditions required for permits are effectively barred from their land. In the crowd I watched for Two Clouds, a Ramapough person from Mahwah, New Jersey; Chief Dwaine Perry, Ramapough, also from Mahwah; Chief Iron Bear; Strong Oak Lefebvre of the Visioning Bear Circle; Gentle Hawk from the Worcester Intertribal Indian Center; and others unannounced. Apparently missing were official reps from Wampanoag, Passamaquoddy, and Penobscot people, plus folks from Plymouth Massachusetts, Boston Indian Center, etc. The absences were as indicative as the presences. Competing local Indian events, given the weekend’s name, Indigenous People’s Day, may explain some lacunae.

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A member of the Ramapough people of Mahwah, N.J., who have long sought federal recognition as a Native American nation.

Counterbalancing stories of on going oppression, Arvol spoke about Standing Rock, the power of prayer, of story, of presence, saying he and colleagues never expected such wide publicity. During the informal session the day before I asked about the White Buffalo Calf Woman story and he, as I’d hoped, confirmed that the first elder and teacher of the Lakota people was a woman—or at least half woman, but certainly fully female. He began each of his two speeches with Mitakuye Oyasin (All My Relations), without translating it. His first language is Lakota and Suzanne whispered to me that he often has trouble translating his thoughts into English, which might be a factor in his speech making.

BURNING THE DOCTRINE OF DISCOVERY

From a Christian perspective, one outstanding element for me was when we symbolically repudiated the Doctrine of Discovery, that absurd and highly revealing papal bull (declaration from the pope) issued shortly before Columbus began his journeys of “discovery”—which were in fact journeys of exploitation. (That and priestly sexual transgression should effectively end the belief that Catholic clerics, from subaltern priests and brothers and nuns to highest rated popes, have direct communication with the so-called god. Is any more evidence needed?)

We grant you [Kings of Spain and Portugal] by these present documents, with our Apostolic Authority, full and free permission to invade, search out, capture, and subjugate the Saracens [Muslim Arabs] and pagans and any other unbelievers and enemies of Christ wherever they may be, as well as their kingdoms, duchies, counties, principalities, and other property […] and to reduce their persons into perpetual servitude.

—Pope Nicholas, 1452

How did we perform this repudiation (a goal without a clear plan long fostered in some Quaker circles)? A woman cleric led a recitative prayer about repudiating the Doctrine; another cleric handed a facsimile of the Doctrine to Brayton who burned it in our sacred fire (so-called sacred, what does all this religious language truly mean other than to establish an emotional tone?), and carried its ashes on a fiery torch to the pit dug for the white pine burial. All very Catholic in its pageantry (pageantry I sometimes yearn for while Quakering).

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Brayton buries the ashes of the Doctrine of Discovery in the pit in which the white pine tree will be planted, supported by members of various Christian communities.

I managed to miss photographing most of this, trying hard for position but wishing to maintain some modicum of politeness, not bump people aside who were in my way. The symbolism of this act may be important, but educating people might surpass the symbolism in importance: more people are now aware of the Doctrine and the imperative to ban it, an incentive to reverse its legacy. I suspect even the current pope himself, Francis—true also of our honored St. Francis—would choose to repudiate what one of his misguided predecessors did.

Brayton Shanley, co-founder and co-director of Agape

Brayton Shanley, co-founder and co-director of Agape

Suzanne Shanley, co-founder and co-director of Agape

Suzanne Shanley, co-founder and co-director of Agape

THE FIRST INTERNATIONAL AMERICAN INDIAN-LED, NONVIOLENT MOVEMENT AGAINST COLONIZATION?

Brayton had given a rousing introduction to Stand Rock—as did Suzanne to Agape—speaking personally about his experience last winter delivering straw bales, claiming that this is the first American Indian-led, global, nonviolent movement against colonization. Arvol has been speaking across the country, at Wellesley College the day before, and flew the next day to Cairo Egypt. This connection, Standing Rock and Egypt, suggests Standing Rock is an outgrowth of the Arab Spring. Being so-called Columbus Day, now transformed into Indigenous People’s Day, I wore my pin, “Discover Columbus’ Legacy: 500 years of racism, oppression, and stolen land,” which I acquired in 1992 during the resistance to the Columbian Quincentennial.

Columbus pin

Many have forgotten this moment exposing and opposing the Columbian Conquest but I suspect it was a key step toward Standing Rock. So if we devise a timeline of activism we may uncover the interconnectedness of the movement—its intersectionality, to use a now-current term for blended movements.

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“They made some low wide gallows on which the hanged victim’s feet almost touched the ground, stringing up their victims in lots of thirteen, in memory of Our Redeemer and His twelve Apostles, then set burning wood at their feet and thus burned them alive.” (“Brief Account of the Devastation of the Indies” by Bartoleme de Las Casas, who was an eyewitness to the Columbian Invasion)

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T-shirt by Jared Yazzie (Navajo) available from Beyond Buckskin Boutique

MOVEMENT HISTORY

To recount from 1945:

  • Freedom struggle in the USA-1945-1968
  • Anti-war movement during the Vietnam era-1962-1975
  • First contemporary resistance at Wounded Knee-the occupation in 1973
  • American Indian and Black Power Movements weaving thru this period
  • Big Foot Ride Memorial Ride—Wiping the Tears, Mending the Sacred Hoop-1990
  • Columbian Quincentenary-1992
  • Arab Spring-2011-2014
  • Occupy-2011-2012
  • Black Lives Matter-2013-present
  • Standing Rock-2016-present

I’d like to think more about these interconnections, and consider all this against an article I’ve read in a recent New Yorker magazine about the failure of movements, or better, how movements can succeed (with better long-range strategy as in the Freedom Movement vs. hasty organization as in the Occupy Movement).

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Planting the white pine tree

THE WHITE PINE

Finally we planted a white pine, which is a key element in the Peace Maker story of the Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) Confederacy. As a final act of remembrance and anticipation most of us made tobacco offerings to the tree, how it can symbolize overcoming the Doctrine of Discovery and all that erupted from it in the past more than 500 years, Standing Rock a recent example. This planting is an act of confession, contrition, repentance, as well as resistance, renewal, and forward march into a more just present and future. Mni Wiconi, Water is Life.

I left reservation life and my native people, the Oglala Sioux, because I was no longer willing to endure existence under the control of an overseer. For about the same number of years I had tried to live a peaceful and happy life; tried to adapt myself and make re-adjustments to fit the white man’s mode of existence. But I was unsuccessful. I developed into a chronic disturber. I was a bad Indian, and the agent and I never got along. I remained a hostile, even a savage, if you please. And I still am. I am incurable.

— Luther Standing Bear (1921)

Luther Standing Bear

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St. Francis with Sultan Malek al-Kamil, Egypt, 1219. Artist: Br. Robert Lentz, OFM

In 1219 St. Francis and Brother Illuminato accompanied the armies of western Europe to Damietta, Egypt, during the Fifth Crusade. His desire was to speak peacefully with Muslim people about Christianity, even if it mean dying as a martyr. He tried to stop the Crusaders from attacking the Muslims at the Battle of Damietta, but failed. After the defeat of the western armies, he crossed the battle line with Brother Illuminato, was arrested and beaten by Arab soldiers, and eventually was taken to the sultan, Malek al-Kamil. 

—www.trinitystores.com/store/art-image/st-francis-and-sultan

st francis

Holy humility confounds pride and all the men of this world and all things that are in the world. —Francis of Assisi

LINKS

“Marking the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi with the spirit of Standing Rock,” by Eileen Markey

White Buffalo Calf Teachings with Chief Arvol Looking Horse

What is the White Buffalo Calf story and why is it important to Lakota people?

“Ramapoughs Trial Continues As Tribe Claims Town Is Trying To Outlaw Prayer At Tepee Site,” by Daniel Hubbard (Patch Staff)

What is the Doctrine of Discovery?

Doctrine of Discovery is Burned (video made during the day)

Why the white pine tree?

What is the Peace Maker story of the Haudenosaunee?

“Is There Any Point to Protesting?” by Nathan Heller

“On Turtle Island (North America), February—April, 1995,” an account of a Buddhist-led pilgrimage by Skip Schiel

“A Winter Count,” by Skip Schiel

Accounts from my journal, written while I photographed Detroit in June 2017—or writing later. 

A journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step.

—Chinese proverb

PHOTOS (from another neighborhood near mine)

June 12, 2017, Monday, Detroit

First phase 

The water conference is over. Now I need to develop my own contacts and find my own people to photograph. I can’t rely on intrinsic contacts that the conference provided—the speakers. Today [June 12, 2017] I plan to contact We the People of Detroit, trying Kate first, then Monica, then Kim Sherrobi. This could prove difficult.

Kim Sherobbi

Kim Sherobbi, 2017

Weaving into this photo process, the house process. K., the generous owner of the house I borrow,  texted yesterday evening that she expects to arrive here today “b4 12,” using the language of texting. During a long phone conversation earlier, we had discussed the grass, bushes, plumbing, fans, cleaning materials to buy, etc. The grass remains uncut, the bathroom plumbing is clogged, I repaired one large floor fan by attaching an electric plug, and discovered a loose fan blade on the other floor fan that had caused the rattling. I haven’t found a way to fix that.

I attempt a delicate balance between photography and house, between my Detroit mission and my Detroit residence. The latter demonstrates for me life in Detroit, a comparatively privileged life albeit, but touching lightly on matters many Detroiters face regularly with more severity.

I began my first Lightroom (LR) post production work last night, on the first conference batch of photos. Quickly I realized I apparently hadn’t remembered to reinstall the LR catalog to my portable drive. So I use the old one on the laptop. K.’s phone call interrupted me but I returned to the process. Even tho late in the evening, tired, I managed to import about 25 photos into LR for work today.

As expected, Internet speeds vary greatly depending on location. Near the school, it is upwards of 10 MB/S (megabytes per second). Near my house, about 5. On my porch about 2. Inside the house about 1. So for some purposes I might sit on the porch for Internet.

Logistics and friends

Since yesterday was so hot and an ozone alert was in effect—plus I needed to give my crotch some healing time and I felt lazy—I did not once ride my bike. Not even tempted. W. arranged to deliver her car here tomorrow; I can use it thru Friday. My central hope: get to Flint. Best if thru contacts, but even without I plan to drive the 70 or so miles and roam the city looking for elements of the water crisis. What might be visible? The Flint River, for one.

To check water use I read the water meter yesterday, after my first week here, giving me two more weeks to monitor water use. It reads 134.91, units mysterious.

I also checked the yards for possible seed planting. No luck, also no garden tools. So I scratch that idea. Instead, I’ll tend the tea roses, cutting two sprigs and bring them inside to grace my dwelling.

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My Washburn Street house, Northwest Detroit, 2017

For the first time in this trip I walked this morning around the Noble School grounds, about four blocks away, and maybe one half mile around. I recall other walks when I first thought decided to meet the principal and ask permission to photograph. This process so far has been fruitless. I recall walking in November with snow on the ground. I recall photographing the old dying tree that I photographed again this morning, this time against the rising sun.

C. finally returned my email, writing that he’s been busy with work, family, and house, but he’d like to take me out for lunch, maybe with one of his kids, but he wrote nothing about our movie and photo projects. I suppose I can conclude that they are all off. At least our friendship seems to continue.

Today I promised K. I’d talk with Gloria and Johnny about who can mow my lawn. Who might they recommend? Johnny keeps his lawn well shorn, as does Gloria. I reiterated to K. who sounded desperate last night that by not living here (she grew up in this house when it was an all-white neighborhood), not having someone as caretaker or reliable tenant, increases the burden. She constantly complains about the high cost of maintenance. Altho she has done remarkably well improving and maintaining it—storm windows, fridge, washer, sun room doors, (my favorite room, where I love to sleep on the floor, pilgrim style), and most recently the wooden flooring—she is often despondent about the value of the investment. She also seems to do little to rent it. Only twice in my 7 years, Jimmy, and then some students at a local college.

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Outside my window, Buena Vista Street, November 2014

How would I house myself if not for K.? Or what even with K.’s place available might be better housing? Share with Barbara H.? Ask others? Rent? Buy? Squat?

My neighbor Gloria and local stories

After I’d settled on the porch for lunch, Gloria, my neighbor across the street, sat with me yesterday. She told me the following: young kids have torched the corner house across from mine three times. Johnny once owned it. Her water bill varies between $25-50 depending on whether she is alone or joined by her daughter who has heart problems and her grand daughter. She has cared for a handicapped man who recently bought a house down Washburn across Buena Vista. For 6 months he lived there without water and I presume heat. She brought him food, water, and used clothing. A woman with kids and a mother squatted in a house on our block. They used the backyard to crap, creating a fierce odor that disturbed neighbors who had them evicted. The streets have not been cleaned in recent memory, despite city-installed signs that declare street cleaning is imminent. Trash goes out Monday evenings, tonight, for pickup tomorrow morning. Large stuff pickup is bi-weekly on Wednesdays. The city might fine folks who put out containers too soon. She didn’t know of a plumber to call after I’d mentioned my clogged pipes.

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Gloria, 2011

Gloria is a good source of local info and a reliable and helpful neighbor. I would formally interview her except her style is not suited for an official interview, too giggly and repetitive.

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General area of my neighborhood in northwest Detroit, 2017

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My neighborhood closer, my house marked with a pin, 2017

LINKS

“In northwest Detroit, residents have been revitalizing their neighborhood for years,” by Melissa Anders (September 2017)

“2 shot, killed in northwest Detroit June 2017,” by James David Dickson (June 2017)

“Requests For Proposals for northwest Detroit neighborhood include 100 houses, 257 vacant lots,” by Kirk Pinho (July 2016)

Statistics for my NW Detroit zip code (2015)

Accounts from my journal, written while I photographed Detroit in June 2017—or writing later. For three days of my first week in Detroit I attended the Second International Gathering of Social Movements on Water. 

A “Blue Community” is one that adopts a water commons framework that treats water as belonging to no one and the responsibility of all. Because water is essential for human life, it must be governed by principles that allow for reasonable use, equal distribution and responsible treatment in order to preserve water for nature and future generations.

The Blue Communities Project calls on communities to adopt a water commons framework by:

·       Recognizing water as a human right.

·       Promoting publicly financed, owned and operated water and wastewater services.

·       Banning the sale of bottled water in public facilities and at municipal events.

—Blue Community Project

June 11, 2017, Sunday, Detroit

A short dream

I walk across a field of fish, probably dead; I argue or discuss with someone what kinds they are.

Notes from the conference yesterday [June 10, 2017]

Detroit is surrounded by water, not only the Detroit River but the various great and lesser lakes like St Clair and the Great Lakes.

Great_lakes_basin-SHADED

60% of Detroiters have income insufficient to sustain themselves, which means what?

Shigellosis might have been what afflicted me in Bethlehem Palestine while at Johnny’s a few years ago and them more recently at the Everest Hotel, also in Bethlehem. Or in Gaza on numerous occasions. But apparently at least not yet here in Detroit even tho I may not have let the water run sufficiently long—recommended 5 minutes—to clear bacteria after K’s water shut off.

“You only get what you’re organized to take.”

How effective are lead filters? Should I have one in my Cambridge home?

“Blue Community” means water warriors are present and needed. Massachusetts, my state, has the first Blue Community city in the United States—Northampton.

In Quebec, people used some 100 bottles of bottled water per person per year.

A New and Unsettling force: the Poor People’s Campaign Then and Now

The group presented the idea of The New Poor People’s Campaign. Mostly young, about half white, from various parts of the country, including Vermont, this was for me the hit of the day, and perhaps the hit, the major epiphany, for me of the entire 4 days. Martin Luther King’s Triplet of Evil, militarism, racism, and variously, depending on the speaker, poverty or materialism, formed the basis of the analysis. The day’s theme was to be analysis. The first speaker, wearing a frayed tan cap who seemed to be the leader, spoke of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, which seemed to refer to the fourth element of their analysis, an element that King omitted, the climate crisis.

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The New Poor People’s Campaign

Lacking from much political discussion, yet highlighted by King, an element that drove his analysis and action, and him personally was love, and with that, nonviolence. The founding organization for this movement is the highly respected Kairos Center for Religions, Rights, and Social Justice.

Multitude of panels and lengthy presentations

The swelling number of panels led to overlap and repetition. Altho the day’s theme was analysis, there was little of that, and much more of “we can win, together we are strong,” rah rah rah, with cheers from the audience. The principle of less is more is here a key organizing feature, one I often shirk when planning my own teaching and art production. So I try to be kind in my reflections on what others do. YPIYGI—you spot it, you got it. Speakers typically ran over time, some greatly so, as did the woman from Mexico, who, even when told time’s up, acknowledged the warning and then said, oh, one more thing.

Maureen, one of the organizers, wisely intervened in her grand motherly way, exhibiting love and compassion, and explained to the audience that these lengthy presentations were often motivated by how little opportunity most people who suffer have to tell their stories. True, but flexibility could be maintained even better if fewer had been invited to speak.

One panel brought together folks from across the USA, another from the world including Canada, Mexico, Liberia, and by Skype El Salvador. Useful perhaps, but most told versions of the same story: loss of water rights, struggle for water rights. How many of these are useful to hear?

Laura Herrara, el Salvador

Laura Herrera, water justice activist from El Salvador by Skype

Youth Perspectives on Water

This panel, drawing from engaged local youth, lit up the crowd,. The panel included Melissa Mae’s three sons, from the Flint family that has gained so much attention and probably did more than any other set of individuals to propagate the story of Flint. All three seemed damaged, especially the youngest, Cole, who spoke spookily, threw his hands around as if spastic, and weirdly grimaced. A scary figure, both because of how he visibly suffered, describing his pains, and how dangerous he might become, to himself and others.

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Caleb, Cole, and Christian Mays, water warrior sons of Melissa Mays, Flint Michigan

I’d been thinking of approaching Melissa to see if I might photograph her and her family in their home. Not directly which could result in a refusal—they’ve been mediafied-mediatized so often that unless one is from truly mainstream media they’d probably and rightly refuse—but thru an intermediary like Monica Lewis Patrick or someone from We the People of Detroit. Watching her in action, how desperate and wrenched she appears, also her sons, persuades me to search out others in Flint to interview and photograph.

Contaminated water in Washington DC

Free at last, god almighty, free at last. For the second day of the water conference [June 9, 2017] I fled early, refusing to be trapped by more panels—seven, that is seven! In one day, with limited time for discussion or any other participation. The organizers may have heard some complaints because they began with a breathing-visualizing exercise, asking us to plant young people in our community forefront in our minds as we breathed in and out deeply.  I invited Eleanor, Cid, and Rex, my beloved grand kids, into my being. They asked us to pick two other people and sit with them during lunch for discussion. I chose the woman I’d been sitting with, Nancy. Two others at the table, Paul, who worked with a lead-free advocacy organization, and a woman, joined us. Paul explained to us and then later as a panelist that Washington DC’s water had been and still might be contaminated. DC, despite being the nation’s capital, did not become newsworthy until Flint was known more widely. Same sort of cover-up, in DC’s case, by the city’s Water and Sewer Authority.

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Paul Schwartz, Campaign for Lead Free Water

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Flint Michigan, free water distribution

Deciding to eat breakfast at home yesterday, skipping the provided meal, I arrived around 9 am to find breakfast still set up. So I ate my second meal. I sat with a young man from Elkhart Indiana who lived in a cooperative which I believe is called The History of Elkhart. They focus on the environment. He is also loosely associated with the New Poor People’s Campaign which was to present later.

But the format remained: we the experts will feed you, the uninformed, information to motivate your work on water rights. Sit still, listen, take notes, and from time to time we’ll give you a little time to engage with us the panelists and your neighbors.

Tammy from Highland Park

Jumping the sinking ship early yesterday I met Tammy from Highland Park. She is African-American and sat in a push chair-walker near where I’d parked my bike. She asked, do you ride everyday? Which launched our discussion, first about biking, and then when she mentioned Highland Park, about that small city surrounded by Detroit but independent, like Hamtramck. It has water problems, she has water problems. I asked if I might film an interview with her. She agreed, so tentatively I will visit her next Saturday for the interview.

Aretha Franklin

Before I met Tammy, thinking what I might do with my extra time, I remembered that Aretha Franklin, soul daughter of Detroit, was giving a free concert yesterday evening as part of a large music festival in downtown Detroit. So, happy about meeting Tammy, I biked over to Paradise Valley, AKA Black Bottom (which one conference speaker explained did not gain its name because it was once the home of the Black population of Detroit, but because it was bottom land, often flooded, and thus enriched and fertile.) My iPhone was enormously helpful in finding my way thru the thicket of Campus Martius Park, that crazily designed mishmash of roads, shooting off in different directions, a ring road enclosing them.

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Waiting for Aretha

As expected, by coming late and Aretha such a huge draw, I could not get into the main audience area. I circumambulated the throng, photographed where I could, mostly the crowd. Scheduled to begin at 6 pm, by 6:45 or so when I left she’d still not mounted the stage. Slightly tempted by the vendor food and booze, I knew I had equivalent or superior fare at home, so I labored for nearly one hour on my bike, my crotch chafing, and finally arrived home around 8 pm. A shot of Canadian Mist, a half can of Labatt beer made in Canada, perhaps just across the river, a potpourri of leftovers including stuffed grape leaves, dried up, tough catfish from the first night of the conference, heavenly garlic mayonnaise sauce, and other tidbits, I feasted, and then reviewed the day’s photos, in quantity the largest yet.

Water at my Detroit home

Altho my bathroom sink and shower drains are plugged, former more than latter, I have water. I can shower, as I did deliciously last evening after biking home drenched in sweat. I can cook as I will this evening and make coffee as I did this morning. I can wash my clothes as I did a few days ago. I do not have to buy bottled water, hook up to a neighbor’s water, or do without. I suffer minimally. I can fix the plugged fixtures with proper tools and chemicals or I can ask Katy, the house’s owner, to call a plumber. I do not have to pay much for this, or anything, such as a huge and possibly fraudulent water bill from the city.

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My Washburn Street house, Northwest Detroit

Bicycling

While biking I notice there are benefits other than the obvious. Yes, it gets me around without the need for cars and buses. It provides a strong dose of daily exercise. It also makes me vulnerable, which is a gift usually, and brings me into closer contact with others. I often greet folks as I bike thru. My funny-looking, small-wheeled, high-seated folding bike is a topic of conversation. Because my carriage is so strange I doubt many would covet or steal my bike.

Ghost Bike, with my folding bike in the background

Ghost Bike, with my folding bike in the background

Grit, sense of purpose and self-esteem

I heard a portion of a radio report about success in school and what might be a primary factor explaining it: grit. Grit means determination, sticking with the mission, focus, and seems unrelated to talent or intelligence, or if related, only partially. Which led me to think: do I have grit? Does my sister? Do my daughters? Grand children? Others in my circle?

Not only might grit lack in marginalized and impoverished populations like in much of Detroit, but a sense of purpose as well. Grit and purpose are closely related. When one is following one’s bliss, work is a heavenly gift, not an onerous chore. Yet, I suspect many I say hello to as I bike, observed waiting impatiently at bus stops, and who cloister themselves behind closed doors like my neighbors, lack awareness of what brings them true bliss. In Gaza’s case she might consider TV her bliss, or her children. In J’s case it might be weed or booze or girl friends, and surely his buffalo soldiers and his horse.

With lack of direction, unawareness of the source of bliss, some might lack self-esteem. Why remain alive? I am not good. Thus the concentration by many campaigns on developing self-esteem. The sanitation workers in Memphis carried signs that declared, I am a man.

LINKS

Blue Communities Project

Building a New Poor People’s Campaign

“Water crisis in Washington, D.C., will eventually be ’20-30 times worse’ than in Flint, expert says,” by David Boroff (2016)

Children’s March to Stop Water Shut Offs (June 2016)