TUESDAY IN POKHARA

I just got off a bus into my super-expensive Pokhara hotel (more on why I picked this one later) and there's already a story in the making here. But first, I must disgorge the story of my ride here. It's been pent up in my brain for hours now.

I'm so glad I chose the bus instead of flying. The downside of the bus is a seven-hour ride - possibly more harrowing than the Luklah flight, if you can

 believe it. The upside of taking the bus is all the seeing one can do - seeing to saturation - in seven hours.

Before I tell you what I saw, I just need to say that I'm glad Tony was not on this ride with me. Tony experienced the poverty in Kathmandu as pain, but it did not hold a candle to the things I saw on this drive through the rural Nepalese country side.

And that brings me to all the seeing.

We think we will travel to third world countries to experience otherness. We think we will see other cultures, taste other foods, observe other dress and customs, hear the melodies of other tongues. But today instead of otherness, I discovered something basic about myself in this third world country.

As the bus took me past lifestyles that included bathing in the open at communal faucets, gathering and thrashing sheaves of grain by hand or sorting piles of corn on the floor in front of their homes, women - well, one young man but otherwise all women - using stones to scrub clothes in the river or at the communal faucet, people sitting on benches in homes that had roofs but no walls, cooking meals on fires in their front yards, or by the side of the road - in fact people sleeping by the side of the road surrounded by their meager belongings, old men picking through trash looking for God knows what, and speaking of trash, garbage everywhere. Garbage piled up to insulate walls and in some cases to BE the walls of someone's home, and tires and rocks and sticks used for those purposes too... I could go on, but you get the idea.

I learned who I am from the labels rising to mind like vapors, without being bidden. Adjectives like abject and nouns like poverty and squalor. Without knowing these people at all, I immediately colored them pathetic. And that, I'm afraid, is more about me than about them.

I don't know if I've ever mentioned here that I watch TV football with my right brain only. I do not like the game, but I can (honestly) enjoy the kaleidoscope of color moving across the field, if I tune its meaning out. I can do that easily by occupying my left brain with something else, leaving my right brain free to "watch" the color show without registering the game itself. I can do only one left brain thing at a time.

I suppose this sounds like I'm incoherently switching gears here, but bear with me. As soon as I caught site of myself in the mirror today, I realized I needed to take in the country side around me with my right brain instead of my left. Color was the big clue. The Napalese apparently adore color. Their houses are painted the most amazing shades of turquoise, peonie, chartreuse, lavender. Their buses and trucks are brightly decorated too, with characters that remind me of illustrations from the kama sutra, tinsel and flower chains and wild sayings that express their owners' relationship with the road. Today I saw slogans as varied as "Road King" and "Live Longer with Friendship."

As an aside, there were also a whole lot of slogans about going the speed limit, which did not surprise me, given the crazy road conditions. Here, buses, trucks, motorcycles and scooters and the occasional automobile share road space with tractors, hand-drawn carts, laborers, fruit stands, people casually talking to their neighbors (in the road!) and animals. I even saw an unattended baby - definitely under two years old but already sitting up - at the very edge of a dirt path so close to being in the road that I almost asked the driver to stop the bus so I could scoot her back a few feet. If you've ever biked through a crowded college campus, miraculously managing to avoid collision with all the other bikers and pedestrians who change their trajectories on a whim, you have the feeling of the roads in Nepal, except now transfer that scene to narrow mountain dirt roads, complete with huge potholes and sheer drop-offs, add heavy equipment to the mix and you're there. I was assigned to seat number 4, thankfully in the bus's second row and not the first. The privilege of sitting in the front row went to a Japanese couple. Although they spoke no English, their near constant expressions of terror required no interpreter.

So, the only way to drive this has to be intuitively. There's no time to calculate. Right brained.

And for me, the only way to see the people of Nepal is intuitively, too.

So here's what I saw after shutting off my left brain. Color. Everywhere. I've mentioned the houses and the trucks, but what struck me with awe are the women's clothing. Regardless of their activities - working in the fields, washing at the river, lazing on a bale of straw with a friend chatting, hanging laundry - their clothes were made from brilliantly colored cloth. Clearly the Nepalese love color. Letting my left brain think about it now, perhaps color draws the eye away from misery, gives pleasure in spite of what else you may lack.

And I saw relationship. I saw mothers making noises at their babies, and plenty of men tending toddlers. I saw old men sitting with young men, reading or talking together. I saw teenage boys at games, often something played standing at a tall table the size of a card table. I will have to find out about that game. I saw people cooking and sharing food. People putting in a hard day's work, often working together, side by side. Doing anything from laying brick to hauling stone to cutting their fields to tending their animals or their store fronts. I boys and girls in blue pants or skirts and white shirts running around school yards, and later in the day, skipping home. And I saw plenty of modern stuff too, especially young people, on cell phones or with earphones in their ears, doing what young people do.

When I saw the Nepalese this way, I did not see poverty. I saw them laughing and playing and working and loving and ... well, living. And suddenly I realized that everything is relative. Of course, we do not want anyone to go without shelter or food or medical care. But that is not what defined the people I saw today.

I would not have missed this bus ride for the world.

LEAVING KATHMANDU

I just said goodbye to the brave and amazing base camp trekkers, who loaded a bus for the airport and their harrowing flight to Luklah. They were good sports, down in the lobby at 4:30 am, the hotel door wide open and letting in surprisingly frigid air, no morning caffeine in site.

All their duffle bags and backpacks came from trek sponsor, Marmot. Lined up you cannot tell them apart ex

cept for the names magic marker'd onto their duffles like little summer campers, and the occasional sun hat or bandana carabiner'd onto a back pack.

I was particularly tickled to see Cy Curnin has no backpack. He's got a fanny pack with a water bottle, which he'd slung over his shoulder for the moment. When I asked, he told me he hates carrying anything on his back. SO DO I. This month I've been practicing packing with a backpack, but I hate it. To me, Cy is daring the mountain to let him be himself, and I respect that. I wasn't brave enough to trek without all the emergency stuff they tell you to tote along (well, I wasn't brave enough even to DO the trek). So I love Cy's bravado.

I hugged Sarah Ewalt goodbye, and she gifted me with her map of Pokhara, where she spent a week on her own before joining the Love, Hope, Strength group. Last night over dinner, she gave in to her fear about the airplane ride to Luklah so I was glad to see she was together this morning. When Tony asked me how she was doing, I confessed to not asking. No point in poking at the courage she mustered. I admit the plane ride is one reason I did not want to do this trek. I am going to be graced with my first grandchild in May, and although I could keel over at my keyboard this moment, it just seemed wrong to put my grandma self at any risk at all.

I took a photo of Lisa Miller and the small stuffed tiger she found hidden by her husband in her bag. I chatted with the inimitable Meghan Buchanan about her Lulu Lemon gear, and the fact that we both color-coordinated our trek clothes. Yes, girls DO want pretty gear. We are girls. What can we say!

I asked Lisa (whose husband is named Tony), Brett Dunnen and Meghan to take care of Tony for me, and was promised. Tony has been full of endearments this week, and he kept muttering them as he kissed me goodbye. I like this side of him. I know he wishes I was going along, and part of me wishes I was going to share this adventure with him. But a bigger part of me knows that it is good that we are splitting up. It was brave of me to back out of something when it wasn't really right for me, and it was kind of him to let me off the hook. I know I will like him a whole lot more if I don't have to poop above the tree line, in 30 degree weather, where there is no cover and everybody can see my frozen tush hanging out and will know exactly what I'm doing - not to mention avoiding that freaky ride to Luklah.

After they were all packed into the bus, and nobody was left in the lobby except a couple of the Mountain Trekking staff who were still counting bags, I stole an uneaten hard boiled egg from somebody's abandoned breakfast box, and slipped back up to the room. My own adventure begins at 6:30 a.m. - about 30 minutes from now - when I have to haul my bags to the bus station, where I catch the greenline bus to Pokhara.

And even though I am excited about my trip, it's a little bit sad and very quiet here now.

FRIDAY IN POKHARA

A glorious day today.

First a pay it forward story.  The hotel owner stopped by to see if I am happy.  During our chat, he mentioned his father, a brilliant man and a priest who had the ear of the King of Nepal in his day.  The government distributed money through his father, who gave it to the needy through an assortment of programs, bringing very little salary home for himself.  Then, at 42, his father died an unexpected death, leaving his family rather destitute.  At some point soon thereafter, the owner was introduced to a German man who had known his father.  This German became godfather to the owner and his brother, and sponsored them all the way through college.  Now, the owner brings orphaned children from the villages in Nepal to Kathmandu, where he, as he put it, cleans them up and teaches them manners and how to brush their teeth.  Then he enrolls them in a good school and sponsors them as far as they want to go.  He says that the resort I'm staying at basically pays for much of this work.  Wow.  I mean, really really wow.  He invited me to come to the office to see the pictures of "his children."

After he left, I was accidentally locked into my cottage by the manager!  He stopped by with a plumber to check my bathroom for some reason, and then on his way out, he engaged a little wooden latch that keeps the screen from swinging, unbeknownst to me.  Probably just habit.  This is the second time since arriving in Nepal I felt like I'd awakened into a bad slapstick shtick.  First, the elevator at the Yak & Yeti in Kathmandu captured and refused to free me.  Way around the corner from the lobby, being heard is a long shot.  Likewise, my cottage is the farthest from the office, and so in the first case I banged the alarm over and over until someone finally passed by, and today I yelled idiotic things like "Hey, anyone out there>??" and "Help! help!" I really needed a better script writer.

Once freed, I was off to the Ambot Boat Dock, quite a ways down the shore from the Bahari dock where I caught the boat to the Temple yesterday.  Later, it turned out that the trail head to the World Peace Pagoda is directly across the lake from the Bahari dock.  I think the map directs tourists to the other dock just because the Bahari boats are so darn busy.

So, I walked out of the cottage without my water sling, and it's darn hard to reach around behind the back pack and wrestle the bottle out while hiking.   I decided to buy a second sling.  250 rupees, what the heck, right?  Along the way to the dock, I located a sling, but without a buckle for shortening the strap.   The shop proprietor offered to cut the fabric and shorten it on one of their sewing machines.  One of the fellows doing machine embroidery stopped what he was doing to stitch the sling, managing to break three slender machine needles on the thick fabric in the process.  That gave us a chance to talk. When he discovered I was from America, he wanted to know whether I voted for Obama or Romney.  He'd only met one American who voted for Romney.  He thinks Obama is "an OK guy," but noted he was taking a "wait and see" approach.  He was hard to disagree with!  We talked about how Romney and Obama may be different, but it's difficult to change laws and institutions, and no matter who won, the winner would have a tough time.

After the third needle broke, I offered to fix it myself if someone would find me a needle and thread.  The proprietor seemed surprised that I could sew.  I assured him that I can, and offered up that my grandmother was a tailor.  Not that I inherited the skill by osmosis or anything. But I can sew.

I left the shop with my political fix, my new, shorter water sling and a gauzy white scarf around my neck, printed with red ink in a Tibetan prayer flag motif.  No, I was not looking for a scarf. But how many times have you dropped off a prescription and waited for it without picking up a half dozen other items?

Across the street from the shop and next to a police installation, a large park hosted a big map.  I hoped it would say, "You are here" (it didn't).  Behind the sign was Lake Fewa, and a little walkway down to a doc with a Hindu shrine on it.  A round-faced elderly woman, dressed in a black sweater over a purple Indian-style dress leaned over the rail.  Her hair was pulled back into a bun that peaked out from a gray scarf.  I hadn't been looking at the map for more than 30 seconds before she asked me where I was from.  And told me she was from Tibet, lives in the settlement near the Peace Pagoda, and walks two hours every day to get to Pokhara.  I knew what was coming!  Reflexively I asked her why she did not take a bus from the settlement, and she said that it was too much money to take a bus every day, but the walking is good for her. Except her back hurts.

The sales approach of these Tibetan women is really good. They start by acting interested in you, then launch into their own life story.  Soon it feels like you know them a little.  It's really hard to say "no" to someone once you have empathy for their situation. This woman's story: She was two when her mother fled China with babies in tow. She herself does not remember China or the escape, but her mother said they had no food to eat most of the way. She said life is hard for the Tibetans in Nepal because China pressures the Nepali government in regard to the the Tibetans. She spoke, too, of her love for the Dali Llama.

I knew as I listened that I would buy her jewelry, whether I liked it or not. What a hard life for this grandmother, walking in from the settlement every day, making her spiel to strangers day in and day out. I picked out four bracelets that were more or less identical and a locket that I had no intention of buying. She asked for 2700 rupees, of which the locket was 1000.  Using Nanette Kroupa's bargaining techniques, I haggled until I knew exactly what she was willing to part with them for, and then declared that I did not want the locket and would give her 1500 rupees for the bracelets. This was a smoking deal for her because it was only 200 rupees less than the 1700 she originally asked for the bracelets - though through watchful negotiation I learned she would have parted with them for about 1000. She looked at me like she'd pulled off the world's biggest heist. I wanted to laugh, but I just handed over the gelt and got out of there with my bracelets.  By the way, all these women, no matter the time of day, tell you, "Good price.  You my first sale. First sale good luck."  Later in the evening, I would walk by this woman again, sitting on a bench with a blond-haired tourist, showing her wares, telling her story, saying, "First sale good luck."

By the way, I was interested enough in her tales of Napali persecution of the Tibetans to google it. The people here are so kind that I did not want to believe, but it's apparently true. Check this link for the whole story.

From there I took a dirt path down the side of the police station to the dock.  Unlike Baharai dock, where throngs of tourists jostled to be first into the boats, I was the sole tourist at Ambot.  Four or five guys sat on benches or in their boats looking pretty bored.  One - tall, skinny, dark-skinned, wearing a red shirt and wild black hair - got out of a boat - his "up" as we used to say in the used car business. He Namaste'd me. Did I want to rent a boat? I asked whether this is the place to get a ride to the World Peace Pagoda trail head. Yes. He let me know it's about a 45 minute boat ride to the trail head, maybe an hour or more to climb and walk around, 20 minutes or so to come down, another 45 minutes back to the dock. In other words, at least three hours, for which he wanted 700 rupees or $2.66 an hour. I could have bargained, but I did not. I wanted him there at the trail head when I got down.

His name is Jhap, the "p" pronounced softly, almost an "m," instead of with the hard pop of an American "p." Jhap gets to the boat dock at 7 a.m. every morning. During high season, he makes four trips across the lake a day.  If they are all round trips, it's a $32 dollar day. During low season, maybe only one - an $8 day.  I did not ask him how much of that he has to turn over to the boating company.  During the 45 minutes across the lake, Jhap pointed out to me the different villages on the hills, the four highest Annapurna Range peaks visible when the clouds move off, the King's Palace, now an armory (yes, they still have a king who is important in the same way that England's queen is important).  We talked of America, the Arizona desert, his village. His English is astonishing. He taught me a few Nepalese words. Words for things we saw - water, poinsettas, boats - and simple phrases like "thank you" and "how are you?" I've forgotten all of them already, except "Rumrun" means "I'm ok" or "Everything's good." Na rumrun means the opposite.  Only reason I remember that one:  he would ask me "Rumrun?" a dozen or more times up the steep path to the Pagoda, each time I stopped to catch my breath.

When we got to the trail head he offered to walk up with me. On the way, Jhap pointed out baby buffalo, an owl (oluu in Napali), gardens of garlic and onion, terraced farms, rice sheave huts, a huge wild poinsetta. He explained the Hindu religion to me, told me which God was being worshiped in each of the shrines we passed along the way, and let me in on which of the gods "that is really only part of the One God" he favored. He wanted to know about my religion, so we talked about Judaism for a few minutes. He knew that Israelis are "Jewiz." He had never met an American Jew. We spoke of the similarities and differences in our faiths.  He mentioned all the Christian "advertising" in Nepal.

He also told me about his family. Jhap is not a kid. He looked late 30s or early 40s. He is Hindu, from a village two days' walk into the mountains. He has an older brother and sister. His sister married a Muslim, converted, and moved to Calcutta. He took a long, difficult bus ride to see her once since.  His parents are still upset, both that their only daughter is so far away, and that she has become a Muslim. Jhap officially lives with his family, but stays with friends in Pokhara so that he can find work. He has never married because it is expensive to marry. He would still like to, though.

Jhap was not my "guide" and he wasn't being paid for anything other than rowing me across the lake. Yet, he was attentive and kind and patient when I needed to stop for breath.

The Pagoda, as we emerged from the forest, rose before us in all its white marbled majesty. Steep white steps led up to the Pagoda, but the sheer beauty of the structure drew me in and up as if by flight. Four gold statues were set into the structure at intervals around its circumference. Plaques in English and Napali described the sculptural representations. I was, to put it mildly, blown away.

Below and just behind the Pagoda is the Tibetan settlement I was told about the day before. I thought of the old woman, walking all the way from the settlement into town each day. I wondered how they could live in the shadow of this amazing testament to world peace, and yet be persecuted. Of course, it's only marginally different than the way Arizona has been treating our Latino friends.

The downhill trek was stony but fast. At the bottom a concession sells ice cream.  I asked Jhap if I could buy him one and he readily accepted.  Crossing back, Jhap took his time, rowing in close to the jungled shore, where he pulled leaves off a wild lime for me to smell, and where we spotted turquoise birds he said are kingfishers, a dusky blue bird with a red head that neither of us recognized, and an entire family of monkeys playing at the water's edge. I captured as much of this as I could on my camera, but eventually put the camera down to "see" this with my own eyes. He also pointed out the path up to the hill town of Sarangkot, across the lake.  I'd thought about hiking it - supposedly three hours up and maybe two back - but I have a pretty good cold, making today's hike was so difficult, I was no longer sure. He suggested that I take a taxi to a small village, visible on the mountain saddle, a 25 minute walk below Sarangkot, and basically walk down. What a great idea! Did I want him to go with me on this walk? It would be safer. YES! I told him it might not be for a few days, but I would find him at the boat dock when I am ready. He was enthusiastic.

When we got out of the boat, I really wanted to give him enough to make a dowry. I have no idea how much that would be. But I restrained myself, fished out 2000 rupees and pressed them into his hand. I don't know what he expected over and above the 700 he'd asked for, but I will take him up on his offer to go with me up the mountain, and try to be more generous then.

On my way home, I wandered into a store selling the most incredible scarves I have ever seen. Really, calling them scarves does not do them justice. They are works of art. They are made by a women's collective in villages outside Pokhara, and I will just have to photograph them and post. The decision about which pieces to buy was impossible, so I asked the store owner whether I could put it on a VISA ("yes") and popped for about six of them. Daughters, mother, sister-in-law, you are in luck! The proprietor is a Muslim from Kasmir, but he's lived in Pokhara for 15 years. He proudly told me that he recently returned to Kasmir to get married, and brought his wife back with him. She walked in the door just as we were wrapping up and they were so obviously affectionate newly weds. He gave me his card, and asked me to keep in touch. Of course, why not? Who wouldn't want to stay in touch with a customer who walked in and talked herself into six pieces?

My next to last stop was the tailor's to try on my cool new Nepalese garments, unfortunately on the complete opposite side of town from the boat dock, and past the turn-off to my cottage. Gita was in the street in front of her store, and when she saw me, she came down too. I was sent to the back room, where there was a bed and bolt upon bolt of cloth, to try on. The top was difficult to get into. I worried about ripping it, and it pulled under the arms. However, both the tailor and his wife kept saying it fit perfectly. But guess what? Gita objected in rapid fire Nepalese, and the next thing you know, they agreed to fix it. Go Gita! I sat down to wait while they let out the seams, and the tailor's wife sat down next to me. I off-handedly said that the Nepali women were so much more colorful than American women. She gave me a lesson in dressing. She pointed out that about half their fabrics were in shades of red, and said "Red after you marry." She was wearing red everywhere. Red garments, red bracelets, red dot on her forehead, red beads around her neck. I asked if Gita was married, since she was not wearing red. Oh yes. Check the red dot on Gita's forehead. Since I'm not married, I'm glad I did not choose red.

I offered them $30 instead of my VISA. That technically gave them a few more rupees than they'd asked for and saved them the 3.75% I'd learned VISA charged these merchants.  So, after fiddling around with the calculator, they happily took it. Also, handing them $30 felt so much less expensive than handing them 2500 rupees. 30. 2500. After awhile you just forget that 2500 rupees is really only about $28.

I trotted down to Gita's shop and thanked her profusely. I expressed my desire to do something for her to show her my gratitude. She laughed and said that my gratitude itself was enough. There were a couple of little kids hanging around and I asked her whether one was hers. She ruffled the hair of a little girl to my right, maybe seven years old, who promptly said, "Namaste!" and dipped down. I asked her whether I could take her picture with her mommy, and immortalized my friendship with Gita on film. I promised I'd stop back in after my trek, and she wished me well.

Evening had fully fallen as I let myself out Gita's shop, and for the first time all day, generators went on and light spilled from shops onto the sidewalk.  Before I could begin to walk, elderly woman, reaching not higher than my shoulder and carrying a cone shaped baskets on her back, her wrinkles deepened by the harsh glare of store lights, intentionally blocked my path.  By now, I knew there was something she could sell in that basket, so I peaked over her shoulder and saw green-orange tangerines.  She swung the basket down to the ground in front of me and asked if I would like to buy some.  Ok, grandmother, I thought.  "I'll take two."  She countered, "A kilo?"  I have no idea how many tangerines in a kilo.  "Just two."  "How much?"  70 for four.  Ok, four.  She plopped them into the bag with the scarves.  I dipped into my pocket, and found that I had a 5, a 20 and a 100 rupee note there.  I handed her the 100 note.  Instead of making change, she plucked two more tangerines out of her basket and handed them to me.  "6 for 100," she said.  I smiled and said, "Ok."  At that moment, I noticed Gita's daughter watching the exchange and turned to her.  "Would you like a piece of fruit?"  Her eyes lit up, I tossed her a tangerine and a goodbye, and took off down the street.

So tired I knew I'd never come back out for dinner, I stopped into the first place with a good Napali vegetarian menu. They had a back patio with a fire, but I opted for an upstairs terrace overlooking the street. I ordered a Napali Vegetarian "set," which is like ordering the sample plate at a Greek restaurant, and a glass of the house wine, Chilean. Chile seems to be the go-to country for wine in Nepal. While I was waiting to order, two U.N. vehicles made their way down the street below me. Seeing a U.N. presence over and again since I got to Nepal, I now wondered whether they were in country to deal with the Tibetan problem.

Killing time waiting for my food, I idly flipped through the pictures on my camera, and burst into tears.  I am clearly here to experience the people of Nepal and not the mountains, as majestic and awe-inspiring as they may be.

My God Does Not Intend Rape. Does Yours?

“And even when life begins in that horrible situation of rape, that it is something that God intended to happen.”
--Richard Mourdock, Indiana GOP Senate candidate

The above comment was Senator Mourdock's attempt to explain why abortion should not be made available to rape victims.

To be a little theological about it, strictly speaking, if you figure everything that happens "God intended" or "willed" then what do you do with the doctrine of "free will"? 

"Free will" is such an American concept, but also very directly a product of Judeo-Christian theology, in which Adam and Eve were free to follow God's command - "Do not eat that apple, you two!" - OR NOT. You see, God asked Adam and Eve not to eat the apple, but God did not prevent them.  God left the choice to them.  God's apparent desire that we have free will means that we have to make our own choices - and let others make their own choices.  Those of us who are religious believe we may have to answer to God, but not to Richard Mourdock or any other politician.

Do you think the snake might be the original politician? 

By the way, I love this art, don't you?  I can't find the artist.  If anyone knows who painted this, please let me know.  

I've Picked My Presidential Poison

I recently lost a facebook friend.  She told me we no longer had anything to discuss when I shared that I was going to have to vote for the Obama/Biden ticket, even though the Obama presidency has disappointed me badly in several ways.  She just does not understand how ANYBODY could vote for President Obama a second time around.  

I should say I think President Obama has done a far better job over the past year or so, but I chalk that up to the ramp up to the election, and worry about his behavior during a last term, when he doesn't have to appease his base. To those of you for whom this admission comes as a surprise, feel free to ask me why - not that it matters at this moment.

Anyway, in case my friend is paying attention, I want to explain myself.

The next President of America affects a lot of stuff - way beyond the Oval Office.  My decision to vote Democrat is a political decision that reflects the following concerns:

1. The damage I fear could be done if we have both a Republican majority in Congress & a Republican White House.  There would be no balance in policy at all.

2. Fear of a Republican White House if the opportunity presents to appoint another Supreme Court judge during the next administration.

3. Fear of the religious right's hold over the Republican party - as demonstrated by the complete make-over of a moderate Governor into a right-wing presidential candidate to get past the religious right gate keepers, the choice of a religious right vice presidential candidate, and the Republican Platform.  I fear the religious right's impact on policy-making, and on the lives of minorities, the poor, women, LGBTs and other pet targets.

4. My personal inability to look the other way on immigration, abortion, small business and welfare policies (welfare having to do with the economic downturn unemployed, rather than welfare mothers - who have not been able to play that game since the Clinton administration). I don't believe that either administration, Republican or Democrat, has the back of small business, actually.  But that's a topic for another day.

5. My strong belief that top-down economic "fixes" don't fix it for anybody but the financial industry. Not entirely sure we'll get anything else, even from another Obama administration, but we SURE won't get it from the Republicans.

6. My fear that Republican "fixes" to social security, medicare, medicaid and health care will just mean privatizing everything - something that has not worked very well, for example, when you look at private retirement savings efforts.

It's not just who's in the White House. It's all the ways we lose a balance of power and policy, if we tilt the windmill completely Republican.

Get Your Game On!

Are you getting progressively more frustrated by extreme politics in our state and nation?  Some of my most politically active friends even talk about sitting this election year cycle out.   I might have the cure for your political blues.  Let me introduce all of you to Lilia Alvarez, a young woman who reminds me of the "Little Engine that Could."  Quite seriously - Lilia is the woman who gives me hope about Arizona again.  

Each of us has a story about a ball we carried way down a field even though conventional wisdom said that the opposing team was impossible to breach. 

Wait, did I just use a sports metaphor?  Really?   

It happened for me as a new lobbyist. My client - the City of Tucson - asked me to do something that any veteran at the legislature would have told me was an impossibility due to the history of the issue.  But because I was a newbie, and really wanted to prove myself, every time my bill got killed, I found someone sympathetic to my newbie-ness and asked how to revive it.  Over and over and over I revived the bill.  Important people got angrier and angrier, but I plowed ahead for my cause.

I saw this kind of raw determination in Lilia when she and a core group of folks refused to believe that Senate President Russel Pearce was unstoppable. They believed it had to be done, and took it upon themselves to organize the removal of Pearce from office. Door to door to door, they got it done.  

If Lilia had been as afraid of him as the rest of us were - really afraid of him - lobbyists, the business community, quite probably the entire legislature and the governor of our state were all afraid of him - Lilia and her group might have decided not even to begin.  And, to add to my delight, the group that Lilia helped form, Citizens for a Better Arizona, is a bi-partisan, ethnically, racially and religiously diverse group - coming together for the good of the state.  And by "good of the state," I mean, striving for a government that works for the well-being of Arizonans, not for crazy ideological goals.  

Lilia and her band of merry politicos refused to sit silent. They refused to be afraid.  Or maybe they felt the fear, but did it anyway!  They proved that Arizonans can take back our state, http://tinyurl.com/98qv5us.  This is why Lilia excites me so very much. She is so inspirational.  

So imagine my pleasure when Lilia told me she was running for County Supervisor.  Why County Supervisor?  Well, the next target of Lilia's ire is Sheriff Joe Arpaio.  And yes, you may get another email from me supporting Paul Penzone for sheriff, but back to Lilia...

Lilia understands that the County Supervisors have allowed and even enabled Sheriff Arpaio to commit all the negligent things he's done here in Maricopa County.  They fund him.  He is supposed to answer to them, but it appears that he calls the shots.  

While the Supervisors stood by, Arpaio has done the truly egregious.  He failed to investigate sex abuse cases his office was contracted to handle, http://tinyurl.com/elmiragearpaio.  He has been put on trial for racial profiling by the Justice Department, http://tinyurl.com/3drrjld.  And he has blatantly wasted your taxpayer dollars to send investigators to Hawaii to chase down non-existent evidence that President Obama is not American-born, http://tinyurl.com/bu2hy7z.  Let me ask you, how is that a Maricopa County duty?  http://www.ustream.tv/recorded/19789741/highlight/232949

By the way, this seems minor by comparison to the other issues, but did you know there has only been one woman elected to the Maricopa County Board of Supervisors in the past 10 years? It’s true! Other than Supervisor Mary Rose Wilcox, the board has been completely dominated by male Republicans for an entire decade.  Lilia will make an amazing female addition.  She has a law degree, a masters in public health, and a wealth of political experience dating back to her family's involvement with Cesar Chavez!

I'm so excited about Lilia's energy, honesty, and courage.  It's contagious!   And so I want you to come meet her and catch the excitement.  We can take Arizona back!

I'm co-hosting a meet-and-greet after work, Thursday, September 20, at the home of Karen Kruse, 79 W. State, Phoenix.  Please stop by.  After you meet Lilia, if want to make a donation, large or small, so much the better.  But you do not have to.  I am most interested in you meeting Lilia.  I am positive she will rejuvenate your excitement about Arizona.    

Let's get our game back on!

Girls Are Not Commodities

Some of you may not know that I do some consulting for the Avon Program for Women and Justice at O'Connor House.  The O'Connor House is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit founded under the leadership of Justice Sandra Day O'Connor upon her retirement from the Supreme Court Bench.  Justice O'Connor, our nation's first female appointee to the Bench, has focused part of the work of her foundation on projects to help victims of violence, including domestic violence and sex trafficking.  The Program for Women and Justice was created at O'Connor House and funded by the Avon Foundation to turn Justice O'Connor's commitment to women and justice into an action agenda for victims of domestic violence and trafficking.

Today I received a letter from Jill Faber, chair of the Avon Program's anti-sex trafficking project. The letter (below) is powerful and should be shared.  I hope you will repost it to your facebook walls, tweet it, link it to your own blogs, email this post to friends.  The  video just above the letter is recommended watching in Jill's letter.




"Last Friday a national conference call was facilitated by Brad Myles, CEO of Polaris, and Andrea Powell, CEO of Fair Girls (drop-in center in DC for sexually exploited children, most of whom have been advertised on backpage), to discuss what is going on around the U.S. Backpage is the major advertiser of sex services online. It is estimated that 80% of women and children that are advertised online are on backpage. 

 Until two years ago Craigslist had a profitable adult section but due to public pressure and advertisers withdrawing their business, Craigslist shut down its adult section. Much of that business moved to backpage which earns $25 million annually on its adult section. It is estimated that as much as 10% of all ads are marketing children. 

We are now calling on backpage to shut down its adult section. Backpage is a huge factor in the sexual exploitation of children in metro Phoenix: On May 19, 2012, in the Arizona Republic, ASU Professor Dominique Roe-Sepowitz said "Almost all of the hundreds of victims of child sex trafficking I have worked with in the past two years have been put on backpage.com, some by their pimps, some by their mothers, some by their best friends. This is an ugly issue, one that we must not turn away from to allow for free enterprise." 

 Across the country there is a large coalition of elected officials, 19 U.S. Senators, 600 faith leaders and 53 leading anti-trafficking experts, as well as all 50 state attorneys general who have joined with 300,000 citizens who have signed petitions on change.org, signon.org and fairgirls.org to demand that Village Voice Media (owned by Phoenix New Times owners) shut down the adult section on backpage. 

________________________________________________________________________

"Almost all of the hundreds of victims of child sex trafficking I have worked with in the past two years have been put on backpage.com, some by their pimps, some by their mothers, some by their best friends."
________________________________________________________

 What we can do in Arizona is: 

 1. If you have not signed a petition (like almost 300,000 other Americans) do so now at www.change.org/petitions/tell-village-voice-media-to-stop-child-sex-trafficking-on-backpage-com There are additional petitions at signon.org and www.fairgirls.org. 

2. Let the advertisers who have suspended advertising in New Times know that you appreciate their willingness to stand up for the exploited youth who are being advertised on backpage. That list includes American Airlines, AT&T, Barnes and Noble, Best Buy, Buddy Stubbs Harley Davidson, Crown Imports, H&M, Harkins Theaters, IHOP, IKEA, LG, Macy's, Miller/Coors, REI, Starbucks, and T-Mobile. We should support companies that are committed to values like the protection of child victims from traffickers and from those who would buy children for sex.

3. Companies that have been contacted but have told us they refuse to suspend advertising include American Apparel and Lululemon. If you shop at these stores, let them know how you feel about this reaction to our campaign and consider buying clothes elsewhere. 

4. The focus now is on regional companies and we are obtaining the list of companies that have been contacted by email but have not responded in metro Phoenix. We will forward that list to you this week so you can help us by writing and emailing those companies and encouraging them to join the highly ethical companies listed in (2) above who have taken a stand on child sex trafficking. We should not support companies that are contributing to the bottom line of Village Voice Media (the parent company that was absorbed by Phoenix-based New Times), a company that includes child sex trafficking in their business model. 

 5. Read the article in the September issue of Marie Claire, page 228: "Girls 4 Sale" which explains the impact backpage is having on our cities. Discuss this article with your friends. 

 6. Watch the public service announcement on www.fairgirls.org. (When you go to the site, wait for the "girls are not commodities" photo to come up on the homepage and click on it to see the 30 second public service announcement on backpage----it's powerful.) Forward it to your lists. 

7. Know that efforts are underway to change the Communications Decency Act by national groups and to bring criminal charges against backpage by other groups. Large city police departments have ongoing investigations of backpage. The Department of Justice has been approached by Senators and Congressmen. Some groups are strategizing on state action by their Attorney General or legislative action. Backpage hides behind the First Amendment (freedom of speech) as well as the Communications Decency Act. The National Association of Attorneys General has some high profile members who are looking at taking on a case right now. 

 8. Auburn Seminary in New York is working with religious leaders on an educational campaign to strengthen local leaders across the U.S. who want to join this campaign. 

9. Respond when you are called to protest against New Times----The Frederick Douglas Family Foundation, Southern Arizona Against Slavery, Arizona Foundation for Women and Shared Hope hosted a protest in front of the headquarters of New Times in June. Join us when you hear about the next protest. 

Below is a timeline of activity on backpage for the last 12 months. 

MAJOR ANTI BACKPAGE.COM CAMPAIGN DEVELOPMENTS: 

 August 2011 - 51 of the nation’s attorneys general write a letter to Village Voice Media demanding it shut down the adult section of Backpage, which it identified as a “hub” for human trafficking, especially the trafficking of minors. 

October 2011 - Groundswell, the social action initiative of Auburn Seminary, publishes an open letter to Village Voice Media via a full-page ad in The New York Times. The letter was signed by over 30 prominent, multi-faith clergy and presented a moral appeal to Village Voice Media to close Backpage’s adult section. To date, over 600 clergy have joined the campaign. In tandem with the NYT ad, Groundswell launched a petition on Change.org calling on the public to the campaign. Over 250,000 individuals have signed the petition. 

 December 2011 - 53 leading anti-trafficking organizations send public letter to VVM calling on the company to take action. Groundswell holds a private meeting with Village Voice Media executives again making its appeal. January 2012 John Buffalo Mailer, the son of the co-founder of The Village Voice, Village Voice Media’s flagship publication, joins the campaign. The New York Times’ Nicholas Kristof writes the first of several columns on Backpage. Echoes the campaign’s call for Backpage to take action. CNN’s Anderson Cooper does the first of nearly half a dozen stories on Backpage. 

March 2012 - A bi-partisan group of 19 U.S. Senators writes a letter to Village Voice Media requesting the adult ads on Backpage.com be removed. Groundswell holds a rally in front of the office of The Village Voice in New York City to deliver the 250,000 signatures it collected on its petition on Change.org. Rally received a significant amount of press and was attended by NYC Council Members, anti-trafficking and children’s organizations, leading clergy, and members of the public. The Washington state governor signed into law a bill targeted at Backpage and aimed at cracking down on the adult ad business. Village Voice Media sued the state, and the case is currently in litigation. 

 April 2012 - Groundswell and Change.org announce effort to educate Village Voice Media’s top 50 advertisers on the controversy around Backpage and call on the companies to suspend their ads with VVM’s publications until the adult section of Backpage.com is shut down. To date, over 45 advertisers have pulled their ads, including major national brands such as Best Buy, American Airlines, IHOP, H&M, Starbucks, and Miller Coors. The advertiser campaign has been ongoing and continues today. The previous week, four U.S. Senators announced a separate effort to convince advertisers in Village Voice Media’s 13 weekly publications to discontinue their ads until Backpage’s adult section is shut down. A group of leading musicians, including R.E.M., members of the band Pearl Jam, The Civil Wars, Roseanne Cash Talib Kweli, and Alicia Keyes, announce their support for the campaign against Backpage. At least two firms with investments in Village Voice Media sell their stake in VVM, after growing “uncomfortable with the direction of the company” [Reuters, 4/1/12; Reuters, 4/4/12]. U.S. Congressman Frank Wolf of VA writes the first of several letters to Attorney General Eric Holder calling on the administration to launch criminal charges against Backpage. ABC’s Nightline airs a major piece on Backpage. 

May 2012 - Meeting takes place with top White House officials regarding the campaign. The meetings are ongoing, with the most recent one having taken place in July. New York City Council passes resolution calling on VVM to drop adult ads. 

July 2012 -  A PSA is released portraying true story of 13-year old survivor of sex trafficking advertised on Backpage.com. The PSA appears online, in print in The National Journal, and on air in the DC market – during ABC’s This Week and for several days on MSNBC. The ad also aired in local markets by way of earned media. Launched in tandem with the PSA was a petition on SignOn.org, sponsored by the 13-year old actress in the ad, asking the public to join the campaign against Backpage. To date, there are over 40k signatures. Op-ed appears in Huffington Post, penned by Wendi Adelson, attorney, author and clinical professor at Florida State University College of Law, arguing VVM is facilitating a criminal enterprise, which is not protected by free speech/the first amendment – the principles behind which VVM is hiding. Adelson also states that Backpage is guilty of reckless disregard and encourages the DOJ to file criminal charges against the company. Press release sent out featuring statements by two prominent internet freedom leaders (Tim Karr of Free Press and Sascha Meinrath of the New America Foundation’s Open Technology Institute) criticizing Village Voice Media for its abuse of free speech and free internet principles to maintain an unethical business operation in Backpage.com. August 2012 Minneapolis City Council passes resolution against Backpage. 

KEY MEDIA STORIES: ABC News - Nightline "Girls Sold for Sex Online, Backpage Defends Decision to Keep Ads Up" The New York Times - Nicholas Kristof "Where Pimps Peddle Their Goods" CNN - Anderson Cooper “Should Backpage.com Close the Adult Section?” We will send you the list of metro Phoenix companies that have not responded to our emails this week and hope you will help us by writing and calling the CEO's to ask them to stand with us on this issue. Jill Faber Coalition to Protect Arizona Children http://protectazchildren.com