SOA protest reflection (please be a kind reader as I have not slept more than 6 hours this entire weekend)

Alas, the day has brought news and (surprise, surprise…) reflection.  I received notice that the Teach for America program has said “thanks, but no thanks”… and I have to admit that was a little surprising.  I do feel that my energies must be needed elsewhere, and I continue to search for my place (or at least a temporary home, after Berea).  I thought again about what my mom says about a life of service is being what you feel called to be… following your heart where it may roam.  I agree to some extent that I can serve in whatever position I may find.  However, I do feel that I should not contribute to that which I wish to be free from… for example, I think I was a darn good McEmployee (don’t tell anyone!) —always trying to be friendly and share joy but I didn’t feel that being a part of that corporation was helpful to the world.  So I’m somewhere in the middle (a place very familiar to me) feeling as though I can serve in any position/job and also that I know what I’d like to support and what I would not.  Please feel free to leave suggestions, and tips for the afterlife (after Berea College, that is). 

Also interesting today is that I’ve felt such enjoyment out of being in this reflective/ sleepy mood.  I find that in times when I am sleep deprived I have a little bit more wisdom, a little different perspective, than when I’m most awake.  Perhaps it is because being on the verge of sleep is like being at the end of your day and tying your loose ends… looking for the next step on your path, consoling your spirit. 

The weekend at the School of Americas protest was most amazing and inspiring.  I went uncertain of how the crowd of folks from various backgrounds would work together to build inspiration.  Early on I was slightly annoyed at certain folks for their lack of a sense of responsibility, and lack of a sense of time.  That didn’t exactly stop, but things definitely changed as time passed. 

We arrived at a campground in Columbus, GA around midnight on Friday night after a 7 and a half hour ride.  We set up camp, played silly games (the green glass door, and “I’m drawing a line, who am I thinking of?”), and for the most part kept our conversations light and away from our purpose.  Piled into a tent with about 13 other people (it was a good size tent) I silently prayed and hoped that our group would be effective in the coming days. 

Saturday morning came earlier than I expected as we all rushed to grab some breakfast from a lovely woman who lived near our campground.  She had set up a little bit of an impromptu catering service out of her house for the one time a year when that tiny campground is brimming with activists from all over the country.  We then went to the morning plenary session, which was most interesting.  We chanted, prayed, and sang together speaking of nonviolence and the importance of civil disobedience.  I have to admit at times it felt cult-ish to be reading the rules of nonviolence aloud with a few thousand other people.  However, no more so than any organized religious group… I actually identified with people who go to the mega-churches because it felt mighty empowering to be surrounded by so many people with the same goals.  Alix said to me that there seemed to be a inordinate proportion of beautiful people.  I couldn’t help but agree as there was a bit of a haze of peaceful love surrounding the entire place.  Then we went to the actual gates where for the rally.  There I quickly lost touch with the group as I was distracted by nonviolent demonstrators, folks tabling, people cheering, and the general buzz of the crowd.  I meandered about between the tables of anti-SOA shirts and looked past our group for a minute to the guards at the edge of the fence.  I badly wanted to understand their perspective and relate to them as humans.  Alix and I, once we met back up, went on a quest to talk to the first guard who smiled at us.  When asked what their beliefs about the SOA were, the guard responded that she was not authorized to answer such questions.  As I saw various signs commemorating numerous victims of SOA violence I thought for a moment about the similarities between myself and a “pro-life” picketer.  I put pro-life in quotations because I feel that folks who often identify with this title do not agree with other issues that I would consider to support life.  I wondered for a moment about the incongruence of not supporting war and supporting a woman’s right to choose.  So much depends on how life is defined.  Snapping back to the protest I was moved by hip-hop rhymes with soul that truly moved my spirit.  I was then reminded of what I would only be able to articulate after one of the afternoon’s non-violence training workshops.  At the workshop to learn about becoming a Conscientious Objector to war the leader defined a conscience as “an inward knowledge of right and wrong with a compulsion to do that which is right.”  This is what I based my later actions upon.  I have only confusion towards the opposition of our peaceful movement (the military personnel, and the system that they support and enable).  My conscience tells me that killing people is wrong.  My conscience tells me to stand up for those who have no voice…

        We were told that we were going to be part of the largest nonviolent demonstration on a military base since Vietnam.  They estimated that upwards from 20,000 people would be in attendance on Sunday.  Saturday night two of the Berea College students (well, one is on a leave of absence) came forward to the group that they had entirely decided to cross the fence and be arrested.  Because they believe that in doing so they can raise greater awareness for the need to stop the hostility, because they believe that they should stand in solidarity with our brothers and sisters in Central America, because they feel called to do so, they violated federal law to commit civil disobedience and take the peaceful message onto the other side of the fence.  Martina shared with us that being on the other side was a powerful experience, that it was amazing that only a wire fence existed between the two alternate realities…. One where people hugged freely, sang, danced, picketed and another where everyone walked around with guns.  Nathan felt called to cross the fence to take the cause as far as possible.  They will both be tried for trespassing in January and put in federal prisons for 3-6 months.  I feel very inspired that of the 20,000 or so folks 2 of the 13 who crossed the fence were people I knew.  They followed their callings in spite of any fears they may have had.  Courageously, they marched with a message of peace and a certain decidedness about their futures.  I did not feel inspired to cross the line myself, as I feel I would be more effective outside of prison for the time being… I did feel inspired not only to share the SOAwatch message that the torture must be stopped, but also to listen carefully and head the nudges my heart may send to me.  I felt new energy to seek my path. 

        Along the lines of SOA I suppose I should give some type of a run down for the folks new to the SOAwatch campaign.  The School of Americas a military training school (now called WHINSEC) which teaches torturous tactics to military personnel of Central and South America.  We train whoever supports us, and in turn they oppress their peoples in our name.  A few countries have withdrawn their military from the school because it routinely trains human rights offenders.  To read more details visit www.soaw.org  (please, please visit!)

        Sunday at the fort was the most powerful day of the trip.  We began with a solemn vigil as we slowly marched to the names of victims of SOA violence.  Protestors brought crosses with the names of victims to bear witness and remind everyone what we were there for.  After hours of name reading and slow marching a joyful noise broke as the pupitistas and drummers flooded the protest with joy and hopeful optimism, without which I don’t think anyone would have left as inspired as they did.  After two days of learning of the horrors and remembering those lost we celebrated the beauty of life.  The streets were full of laughter and dancing bodies all moving to the beat of drums and chants of democracy.  This was the side of activism I’d been looking for during the last few weeks, the joyful, the celebratory part of doing work that brightens the future… work that feels true to my conscience, true to my heart.  And thus, I conclude this little blogger update with hope that I find more long term work that makes my heart equally as happy and engaged. 

Thankful list:
-the brave people I know!
-the voice of conscience
-the beauty of life
-fruit-loop parties that can only occur with soy milk purchased from the piggly wiggly while you wait for your friends to be released from jail.

-pictures with loving notes on the back from former housemates
-courageous grandmothers who face second and third offense charges to stand in solidarity with people they have not met
-my fleece that found its way back to me with all of the lucky charms and beach pebbles still in the pocket
-sleep!
-banjo lessons
-patient banjo teachers
-that I have clean water
-that I have had plenty to eat today
-that I am free to do with my life what my heart tells me I should