This week the AWP 2011 Writing Conference will be held in Washington DC. Many different writers, publishers, schools, and journals from all over the country of all genres will gather together from February 2-5 to hold panels on a myriad of subjects and readings celebrating the work of our modern storytellers.
One event I wish I could buy a last minute ticket to DC for is a gathering of poets "for healing, tolerance, reflection and peace on the steps of the US Congress." On Saturday February 5th from 12pm-2pm there will be a press conference, rally, and public "floricanto" (a collective poetry reading) in response to the recent Arizona tragedy, passage of Arizona SB 1070 & HB 2281 (and other copycat state legislation), the death of the Dream Act in the senate, and the latest rounds of deportations.
For more information on the rally and other immigration and "Floricanto" events during AWP this week, go here.
It is essential for writers to speak about what is happening right now with immigration legislation. As quoted on the Poets Responding to SB 1070 fb page (where the Floricanto began), "Peace goes into the making of a poem as flour goes into the making of bread." -Pablo Neruda. It is our job to tell the stories of those that go unheard. It is our calling to be truthful and specific about our worlds and those not known by the mass public. But it is not easy.
NPR did a story this week, "New and Established Writers Redefine Chicano Lit", with interviews with Sandra Cisneros, author of House on Mango Street and Caramelo, and David Rice. I think Cisneros spoke well of the need, especially now, to create spaces for our writers and our stories: "when I wrote [House], I wrote it from someplace, a very optimistic young women in her early 20s, hoping things would get better in the United States for people of Mexican descent. But, I could never dream what would happen post-9/11 and with the community being under siege as it is right now with Mexican people really being vilified at this time of American history."She also spoke about the loss of Chicano literature in schools due to HB 2281 copycat legistlation in Texas: "I think it's a time where we're not having those opportunities to tell our story...I'm just one person that can go out to the schools, and the demand and requests from the schools is enormous. There aren't enough of us published to go out. And the ones that are published are not getting distributed. So it's a difficult task. I feel it every day...especially since, recently, our Texas Board, removed a lot of us from social studies. A lot of us are getting removed from textbooks...So we need those other writers, but it's a difficult time."
Speaking of published writers telling the immigrant story, I've been reading The Madonnas of Echo Park by Brando Skyhorse. It's a great read that tells multiple tales of Latinos living and working on the streets of L.A. from the time before Chavez Ravine was home to the Dodgers, up until modern day with an undocumented worker zigzagging through the booths of the annual Echo Park Lotus Festival in search of a place to dump a murder weapon.
Here is a quote from the book that had me thinking about SB 1070 and the like: "Anyone who works on the street knows there's a rule in L.A. the cops have: Special Order 40, or what the trabajadores call "santo cuarenta." The cops can't stop you if they think you're an illegal, only if they think you're an illegal about to commit a crime. This is to encourage illegals to come forward if they have information about a crime. They also can't hold you for more than twenty-four hours if the one thing they've got on you is that you're an alien. It's tougher in L.A. for illegals now, meaning cops have to ask you where you're from no matter what. But as long as you lie and tell them your from here, they won't check your background or report you to immigration. As long as you lie."
With the way the legislation is currently going it will only target the wrong people, and make it harder to convict the real criminals, so we have to look for positive alternatives like The Dream Act.
Unfortunately (unfortunately doesn't really communicate the amount of pain and disappointment, the breaking of hopes, felt by the Dreamers), the Dream Act was voted down in the senate recently, after it passed in Congress. It was a major blow to our educated youth who have been working hard to make a life here in the U.S.
Fortunately, President Obama did not forget about the Dreamers, and in last week's State of the Union Address, called for the senate and congress to look again at The Dream Act saying, "They grew up as Americans and pledge allegiance to our flag, and yet live every day with the threat of deportation." I think many were unhappy he did not say more, but the fact he is addressing it, can only be positive. This article from Reuters, "Obama to push for Dream Act again in 2011" has more on Obama's plan to push for the passing of the Dream Act.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
In the summer of 2006, I took a five-week tour of Southeast Asia with three college friends. Not more than two days in Bangkok, we traveled by bus to the Thai-Cambodian border, and then by taxi for the six hour ride across the "Dancing Road"* to Siem Reap, Cambodia. All our travel books explicitly, and seriously, advised travelers to not travel over the border by road, but with only two days into our trip, none of us wanted to spend the extra money on airfare, and plus, we figured, how bad can it be?
The answer to that question may be another post entirely, but as anyone who's made the trip knows, the journey is a strange and dangerous trek, that leaves you frightened, shocked, and mystified until the moment you find yourself back in the dizzy air-conditioned malls of Bangkok.
Cambodia is both the most beautiful and most tragic place I have ever experienced. The people there are suffering, but they are warm and open with their stories. They seem to smile easily despite the constant reminders of their unspeakable past and current impossible situation. When I think of Cambodia, I think of our taxi driver who shared his memories with us, I think of the laughing children we visited at the English school, the saffron draped monks passing us in the street, the massive silent faces of Bayon, and the tiered towers of Angkor appearing in the sunrise. And then I think of amputees sitting at ever corner, child-beggars holding infants in one arm while the other extends out asking for money for formula. I think of the U.S. dollar used everywhere, the Thai electricity, the French and British five star hotels, and the unusable expanding farmland littered with live mines, deadly keepsakes from of the Vietnam War, U.S. occupation, civil war, and the Khmer Rouge. There is too much feeling in Cambodia, too much to say that I find it impossible to unpack all my impressions of this strange and magical place, but still, now over four years later, it doesn't leave me.
Last night I stumbled upon the 1984 movie "The Killing Fields"* starring Sam Waterston. This movie is based on the book, The Death and Life of Dith Pran, written by New York Times war correspondent, Sydney Schanberg. It tells the story of Schanberg’s Cambodian interpreter and friend, Dith Pran, and his four year journey of survival through Pol Pot's "Year Zero."
In 1986, Pran became a U.S. citizen and continued to work as a New York Times photographer until his death in 2008 from pancreatic cancer. His partner and friend, Sydney Schanberg, was quoted in this NYT article, written at the time of Pran's death, saying, "I’m a very lucky man to have had Pran as my reporting partner and even luckier that we came to call each other brother...His mission with me in Cambodia was to tell the world what suffering his people were going through in a war that was never necessary. It became my mission too. My reporting could not have been done without him."
Pran could have escaped (along side his wife and children) when the U.S. evacuated its forces from the capital in April 1975, but he stayed with Schanberg in order to help him and other western correspondents tell his country's story to the rest of the world. Then, when he survived four years of Pol Pot's regime and the systematic murder of 2 million Cambodian citizens, he used his experience to spread awareness of Cambodia's modern genocide, his country's hardships, and the tragedy of individual suffering. This was his life's work.
You can read about Pran's four year nightmare, and his 1989 emotional return to Cambodia (after a 10 year exile) in his own words in the NYT article "Return to the Killing Fields."
In Pran's final NYT interview--done shortly before his death--he asked that the fight against genocide continue. "One time is too many," he said. He hoped that others would carry on what he made his life's work: “If they can do that for me my spirit will be happy."
As someone who has been touched by the beautiful people of Cambodia, I share a little bit of Dith Pran's story in order to do as he wished, continue to spread awareness of those suffering around the world.
Other books on the subject:
The Children of Cambodia's Killing Fields: Memoirs by Survivors by Dith Pran.
When Broken Glass Floats: Growing Up Under the Khmer Rouge by Chanrithy Him
*The road to Siem Reap gets its name because it is an unpaved red clay path raised about three feet above the landscape that does not hold up well to the rainy weather. Western passengers appear to be dancing around in taxis and buses as vehicles travel over the rough terrain for multiple hours.
* "The Killing Fields" is currently on Netflix Instant Watch.