Ozland

And now I have arrived in “Oz land,” and in many ways it feels as though it were some magical realm here in Brisbane, Australia. Comparing the academic experience to that we had in Buenos Aires would be like good ol’ apples and oranges. The five of us Rotary fellows from Argentina arrived to the University of Queensland to find an office set up with our names on the door and a computer for each. Next door we find available for our use a photocopier, printer, and scanner, along with further supplies at the front desk staffed by two lovely ladies. During a safety orientation about our building, I had to force myself to focus as office-worker Ann told us of the highly-trained medical staff that could be at our side in five minutes would there be an emergency. My mind flashed to La Yautia, my community in the DR, and the women trudging up the muddy hill in the 90-minute trek towards the ill-equipped health center. Just as I had to pause and take a moment to calm my dizziness when I slid into one of the campus libraries in search of my student identification and registered its spotless, modern nature, crawling in each nook and cranny with the latest technology.

I reflect back to Rio de Janeiro and the trembling hands of the woman from the favela as she spoke to us of the police force that killed her brother and 29 other innocent people, among them young children, in a random mass killing there. And I contemplate the homicide rate that likens Rio de Janeiro to a war zone.

One of the themes of my life thus far has been bearing witness to such contrasts in realities. Above all, I have learned not to classify one as better or worse, but rather to feel intensely the potential that lies in the exchange of people from different realities. From such deep pain wrought from the violence in the poor communities in Rio, one is able to witness moments of an equally powerful and heart-wrenching joy and glory. Meanwhile, while the seeming perfection of the UQ campus can be instantly appealing, I wonder about the impacts of this security and sterility on people’s sense of community and togetherness, and individual sense of purpose. Perhaps this assessment is exclusive to my soul, which screams of a missing piece as a student here pays for one textbook what in most places in the earth one would need to feed their children for several months… All I know is that I fail to sit comfortably in this new existence, although at the same time I feel so grateful to be in a situation that allows me the opportunity to focus so intently on my studies and to process out the whirlwind of the past six months. I will simply continue to grapple, and engage in this grappling with as many as are willing.

Indeed, one of the greatest lessons I take away from the human rights course in Rio is that each person has a voice with a story waiting to be told, and its one’s right to express that narrative rather have it imposed upon that individual. In this way we can avoid the damaging and exaggerated stereotypes that cause boundaries to be set and walls to be built, and instead bring out the positive human potential in each human being. One organization after another, we visited places that are offering as “weapons” cameras, video cameras, microphones, drums, pens, and paintbrushes instead of guns; ways to use expression instead of violence to deal with painful experiences of bloodshed and loss. This expression needs a caring audience; one that intently listens and reflects back its own narrative in an exchange that validates and enriches each and proposes concurrent action for a “brighter tomorrow.”

There are movements in both directions—walls being torn down and walls being built up. As I alluded to in the last entry, it is a question for each individual in each moment to decide which route to choose.

As I morose through my pictures at four in the morning, still adjusting to the 13 hour time difference, I come across this fitting quote from the MLK, Jr. museum in Altlanta: “Every man must decide if he will walk in the light of creative altruism or the darkness of destructive selfishness. This is the judgment. Life’s most persistent and urgent question is, ‘What are you doing for others?’”