Trying Times

We began by joining hands as one scholar helped us center-down into our common values that had brought us all into this program to begin with. Friday night—9 scholars, 5 of us who are finishing up our first semester, and 4 from the class that will be moving into their last semester, convened in a special meeting on the roof of the building where we have our classes. The topic: the earthquake. The earthquake of this rotary program, that is; a series of happenings that is cracking the foundation of our lives here.

The basic synopsis goes like this: since this program began, each class has had several US scholars that have made small steps in investigating the process of gaining accreditation of this program in the United States. This year the investigations uncovered a glaring fact that this master’s program does not even have accreditation in Argentina. The master’s is recognized by the ministry of education, but not accredited. Accrediting bodies in the US will rarely be willing to consider accrediting a program if it is not initially accredited in its own country. For me, with less definite goals of employment, this fact is not too critical, but for those of my colleagues that have specific life plans that include a government job or a doctorate program, this realization could mean that two years of work at this university would not terminate in a true master’s degree off which to plant a foot and further advance a career. Beyond this issue are ongoing frustrations with a program that, especially through US eyes, leaves much to be desired… Rotary International has offered my class the option of transferring to another Rotary Center and requested a decision by June 7th. Perhaps a vote? Australia, Tokyo, England, or stay in Argentina on the sinking ship? While you contemplate, I’ll continue…

So there we were—nine individuals brought together by different world forces and facing an unexpected roadblock. The most inspiring was our interactions that night. With all the intensity of emotion that was running throughout each of our beings, you could see how each was putting the other before his or herself. The tears shed, the emotions shared, the stories told by each of us were deeply listened to by all ears and hearts present.

We expressed this issue at many levels. First and most obvious is the personal level. Many people sold houses, left jobs, turned down other offers to be here. Several have partners whose lives are also affected by the situation. How do we begin to decide what will be our next step? Beyond this is the complexity of the matter thinking at a macro level. We believe wholeheartedly that it is crucial that one of Rotary’s world peace programs be in the “developing world.” Many of the struggles that we experience here are important lessons of the reality of what is a university experience for countries that, due to an endless number of exasperating global factors, does not have the infrastructure or resources to provide all that students in developed nations enjoy. There is a fine line between sacrificing personally to appreciate and experience this reality, and the long term view of the impact that we could have with a higher quality and accredited degree.

I pain for the thousands that continue to needlessly die each day as a group of truly passionate, intelligent, creative, giving peacemakers are forced to grapple with this hang-up. All we long for is a training that will equip us to better serve the world; for me, prolonging that reinsertion back into grassroots work is trying… But thinking outside the box, perhaps these last few days and what will be the next several weeks wading through this conflict will be the best training we could ever ask for.

Moms, Family, and Hope

This Mother’s Day morning (fyi not Mother’s Day in Argentina) I spent reading on a park bench with a cool, fall air filling my lungs while floating church music and shouts and ball sounds from a small-sided soccer game entertained my ears. My eyes read about justice- how in the 18th century there developed a distinction between interstate and international justice, which has led to a different sense of justice within a state versus between states. I would fit into the minority camp of those who believe in a cosmopolitan or world justice with human solidarity. However, this author, Hudley Bull, argues that our current international society, with all its norms and institutions, is incompatible with the demands of world justice… How mutually exclusive must they be? It intrigues me to think about his point that our conception of what is and is not “just” has indeed been transforming (colonization is no longer legitimate, for example), and therefore it is not silly to hope for positive change. We’ve got to believe…

One reason I believe so strongly, and especially want to share on Mother’s Day, is the strength and beauty of family I have, from my parents on down to each cousin that inspires me. It is no mystery why I have an idealism and hope so deeply entrenched in me… what I consider to be an ideal—nuture, support, constant and unconditional love—has been with me in reality. Why I have been so blessed is and will always be a perplexing question to me as I consider the endless situations of children who have been deprived this nurturance. Meanwhile, I give thanks, and anchor myself in this strength as I continue on…

Happy Mother’s Day to Alice Elle and all others...

ps- An important article… http://www.nytimes.com/2006/05/14/books/review/14wright.html?pagewanted=1

Mountain Air

A new week begins, and I am refreshed by my first true trek outside the city limits last Thursday and Friday. I experienced first-hand the amazingly simple means of exploring this vast country. From my apartment to the main bus terminal in twenty minutes and an overnight bus ride on a comfortable double-decker up into the northern mountain ranges of the province of Cordoba, by before noon I found myself checked into a small room in the back of an old museum house and sitting beneath a tree staring at the gorgeous ominous mountains before me. Phew. And wow, what a release to be among nature again, breathing the fresh mountain air, greeting the small creatures (including the monkey owned by the museum/hostile that I stayed at!), receiving smiles and hellos by the local small town population.

At my first stop in town at a corner café, I asked for a local Rotary Club, and was graciously told by my waitress that the president of the local club owned the lingerie store next door. That evening we were chatting like old friends in her small downtown shop, and the next day I accompanied her on a trip down to a nearby town, gaining insight by her commentaries as we passed through the different mountain communities. I soaked up the inspiration from several of these simple yet reaffirming encounters with various people along my two day adventure. I remember particularly my conversation with a woman at a vegetarian restaurant I stopped out before leaving town—as I poured out my woes and creeping pessimism, she talked of the people she meets from all over the world, and how so many shared in common what I was expressing: a constant quest for understanding and a sense of place in the world. Ah, the common ground of the human experience and the solidarity with unmet travelers/seekers expressed through the weathered lens of a mountain-town eatery…