Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Final Selections
Tonight was the last formal class for my photography/injustice students. Final selections were made for our art auction, happening May 24 (more details to follow, so stay posted!). Invitations were put together and Lori, one of our local news reporters, stopped by for an interview. I don't know where the time went - the class flew by SO quickly. Tuesday nights have definitely been a highlight for me as of late and I'm going to miss getting together with these fantastic young women to talk photography and injustice.
Monday, May 9, 2011
My Name in Arabic
So not only are Monday nights with the Hopes & Dreams crew a time for them to learn, the evenings are also a chance for me to learn. Tonight, I discovered my name in Arabic (at least that's what Wafaa told me - she's only in grade 1, but I have to trust her Arabic since it's better than mine!).
Sunday, May 8, 2011
This week: DYEing 4 Change
Just a reminder that the Manitoba Association of Women's Shelters (MAWS) has a unique event happening from May 8 - 14: DYEing 4 Change. There are more details at their website www.dyeingforchange.com but the basic idea is that women have a special relationship with their hairdresser. One in four women experience some type of abuse in their lifetime and many never report it to police or go to shelter but they will be more likely to talk with someone they trust, like their hairdresser.
Salons can get involved in a variety of ways. They can donate a % of sales, donate their tips and/or collect donations from their customers to support this worthy event and cause. "Snip it. Streak it. Style it." Whatever you do, don't be Silent about it.
Salons can get involved in a variety of ways. They can donate a % of sales, donate their tips and/or collect donations from their customers to support this worthy event and cause. "Snip it. Streak it. Style it." Whatever you do, don't be Silent about it.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
I Feel Like a Bird
I received this email from Parnters (www.partnersworld.ca):
I cannot get the sewing machine out of my head. The woman sitting on the floor in front of me is poor. She has no shoes. She has walked for four days to talk to me. She comes from one of the most oppressed areas in the world. How come she had a sewing machine?
"It was a gift from my husband," she says. "Where is the sewing machine now?" I ask. "It’s still where he put it when he hid it." "Aren’t you going to get it?" "I can’t." Of course she cannot. Bringing the sewing machine back from under the bushes and branches in the jungle will be like ripping up a wound that is still painful.
It happened January a year ago. The day was cold and crisp. Saw Mya Htoo was out hunting in the jungle. Naw Muu Wah was busy in the house. With six children to care for she rarely had a quiet moment.
Saw Mya Htoo’s eyes were always on the lookout, for animals, for plants to eat—and for the enemy. On this day he spotted the enemy first. From the hill where he was standing he saw them coming walking. Quickly Saw Mya Htoo took his gun and shot it in the air. He had to alert the village somehow, and he was too far away to run there and warn them. He was the person responsible for the radio and always carried it with him. The other person responsible was the village teacher. They did not leave the radios on all the time in order to save batteries. The shot did not have the desired effect. The old gun jammed and the shot just sounded like a little puff in the air.
Then he looked over in the other direction and noticed the village over there, one that was a lot closer, had picked up on his attempt. Quickly the villagers fired off one of the village mortars, and this time the sound was impossible to ignore. Within seconds he got a call from the teacher who asked what was happening. "Hurry! Get the people out of the village. The enemy is coming!" was all Saw Mya Htoo needed to say before he hung up and started running. On his way back to the village he met his neighbors, all of them running with whatever they were able to carry. They looked serious and afraid.
He met his wife and kids too. "Hurry! Run the fastest you can," he told them. He made it into their house, grabbed the sewing machine and ran back into the jungle. With the sewing machine tucked away he decided he may have enough time to run back once more to get some more rice. He knew from experience that whatever was left in their house would be destroyed or stolen. He also knew that they would need much food while in hiding in the jungle.
He got a bag of rice and he told her to run the fastest she could. He would catch up. But he never did. As he came around the corner of his house the soldiers entered the village. Without hesitating they shot him dead. Then they lit the village on fire.
In the jungle sat Naw Muu Wah with her six kids, the youngest only one year old. They were terrified and shaking. The oldest daughter had caught up with them and she told them the news they did not want to hear: "I think they shot daddy." They had shot after her too.
"You know what I feel like?" Naw Muu Wah asks me. "I feel like I am a bird that is not allowed to fly."
"Do you ever consider taking the children and moving to a refugee camp?" "Never. I will not give them that victory."
"All my life they have been chasing us. They have done a lot to my family. They killed my husband, my brother, my uncle, my cousin, my brother in law and my father." "Do you know why the Burma Army come and attack you," I ask. The answer is so sad: "We don’t have any idea. The Burma Army never speak to us or tell us anything."
We sit in silence. We both are mothers. We both love our husbands. We both have dreams and fears. We both have a sense of humor and like beauty. We both want a day off to do whatever we want. We both sit in the same room. But our lives are as different as lives can be. I think it is unfair.
Oddny Gumaer
Co-founder, Partners Relief & Development
I cannot get the sewing machine out of my head. The woman sitting on the floor in front of me is poor. She has no shoes. She has walked for four days to talk to me. She comes from one of the most oppressed areas in the world. How come she had a sewing machine?
"It was a gift from my husband," she says. "Where is the sewing machine now?" I ask. "It’s still where he put it when he hid it." "Aren’t you going to get it?" "I can’t." Of course she cannot. Bringing the sewing machine back from under the bushes and branches in the jungle will be like ripping up a wound that is still painful.
It happened January a year ago. The day was cold and crisp. Saw Mya Htoo was out hunting in the jungle. Naw Muu Wah was busy in the house. With six children to care for she rarely had a quiet moment.
Saw Mya Htoo’s eyes were always on the lookout, for animals, for plants to eat—and for the enemy. On this day he spotted the enemy first. From the hill where he was standing he saw them coming walking. Quickly Saw Mya Htoo took his gun and shot it in the air. He had to alert the village somehow, and he was too far away to run there and warn them. He was the person responsible for the radio and always carried it with him. The other person responsible was the village teacher. They did not leave the radios on all the time in order to save batteries. The shot did not have the desired effect. The old gun jammed and the shot just sounded like a little puff in the air.
Then he looked over in the other direction and noticed the village over there, one that was a lot closer, had picked up on his attempt. Quickly the villagers fired off one of the village mortars, and this time the sound was impossible to ignore. Within seconds he got a call from the teacher who asked what was happening. "Hurry! Get the people out of the village. The enemy is coming!" was all Saw Mya Htoo needed to say before he hung up and started running. On his way back to the village he met his neighbors, all of them running with whatever they were able to carry. They looked serious and afraid.
He met his wife and kids too. "Hurry! Run the fastest you can," he told them. He made it into their house, grabbed the sewing machine and ran back into the jungle. With the sewing machine tucked away he decided he may have enough time to run back once more to get some more rice. He knew from experience that whatever was left in their house would be destroyed or stolen. He also knew that they would need much food while in hiding in the jungle.
He got a bag of rice and he told her to run the fastest she could. He would catch up. But he never did. As he came around the corner of his house the soldiers entered the village. Without hesitating they shot him dead. Then they lit the village on fire.
In the jungle sat Naw Muu Wah with her six kids, the youngest only one year old. They were terrified and shaking. The oldest daughter had caught up with them and she told them the news they did not want to hear: "I think they shot daddy." They had shot after her too.
"You know what I feel like?" Naw Muu Wah asks me. "I feel like I am a bird that is not allowed to fly."
"Do you ever consider taking the children and moving to a refugee camp?" "Never. I will not give them that victory."
"All my life they have been chasing us. They have done a lot to my family. They killed my husband, my brother, my uncle, my cousin, my brother in law and my father." "Do you know why the Burma Army come and attack you," I ask. The answer is so sad: "We don’t have any idea. The Burma Army never speak to us or tell us anything."
We sit in silence. We both are mothers. We both love our husbands. We both have dreams and fears. We both have a sense of humor and like beauty. We both want a day off to do whatever we want. We both sit in the same room. But our lives are as different as lives can be. I think it is unfair.
Oddny Gumaer
Co-founder, Partners Relief & Development
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Sylvan
I know that my blogging has been a bit sporadic and I think that may be the case more this month. I just started a tutoring job at Sylvan in Winnipeg and in order to justify the amount of gas I'm putting into my car, I've arranged to take shifts Wednesday and Thursday with the intent of staying in the city Wednesday nights (I think it's called couch-surfing!).
Be reassured that I'm still here (that is, I'm still blogging) and I certainly invite your comments and any other great tidbits regarding anything to do with injustice - I love to share with those who take a regular interest in my blog. Thanks again for reading and checking what's new - I appreciate it!
Be reassured that I'm still here (that is, I'm still blogging) and I certainly invite your comments and any other great tidbits regarding anything to do with injustice - I love to share with those who take a regular interest in my blog. Thanks again for reading and checking what's new - I appreciate it!
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Hopes & Dreams
I will be spending Monday nights for May and June with a group called Hopes & Dreams. Basically it is an opportunity for people from our community to welcome and support the new refugees and immigrants that have moved here. It's about getting to know one another and it's a great place to practice English/play Charades (depending if you're new or old to the community!).
Monday, May 2, 2011
Please Vote
Please get out and vote today! Exercise your right (which is not a right in every country) and take an active part in choosing those who will lead our country. Don't wait for others or make lame excuses - just go vote!
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
DREAM Gals
I have 4 super great gals working on the level 2 photography/injustice class Tuesday nights. We are 1/2 way through now, taking pictures for our final art auction on May 24 (more details to follow, so stay tuned!). This week's photo theme is 'peace' (the past 2 weeks have been 'beauty' and 'family'). Injustice-wise, we've watched "The Great Debaters", "God Grew Tired of Us" and "Invictus".
Monday, April 25, 2011
"We're really not that different from each other."
The Girls, Giggles & Goals reunion that I blogged about a few days ago hit the local newspaper. Check out the article at: www.altonaecho.com/ArticleDisplay.aspx?e=3091003
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Manitoba Prayer Breakfast
Head to www.winnipegfreepress.com/local/prayer-breakfast-hears-horror-of-sexual-slavery-in-cambodia-120562869.html for more details on yesterday's Manitoba Prayer Breakfast.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Procrastinating
The task (though that seems too 'little' a word) of scrapbooking my YWAM travels of 2009 is still on my to-do list. It actually calls my name, harassing me to get to it already (I did start, but haven't made much progress). I wish I could say that the actual job of putting it all together was the reason for my procrastination of the project but it's not. In order to do the quality of work that I want for the scrapbook, it involves me going through my journal and putting a balanced perspective to the pictures I use and the words I write. I'm even having a hard time deciding what to write here right now - there's just so much emotion.
I've been going through a lot of my 2009 pictures as I been preparing for my Focus photography/injustice class. Sometimes I have to pinch myself - did I really experience all the stuff that I did that year? Some pictures surprise me - I look happier than what I really felt at the time. I met such amazing people and my words feel as though they fall so short towards people who changed my life so much. It's not something that I can just tie a nice bow around and push to the back of my mind. . .so I'm procrastinating.
I've been going through a lot of my 2009 pictures as I been preparing for my Focus photography/injustice class. Sometimes I have to pinch myself - did I really experience all the stuff that I did that year? Some pictures surprise me - I look happier than what I really felt at the time. I met such amazing people and my words feel as though they fall so short towards people who changed my life so much. It's not something that I can just tie a nice bow around and push to the back of my mind. . .so I'm procrastinating.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Traffick Jam
I just heard about this event yesterday and it's happening tomorrow: Traffick Jam - The Canada Fights Human Trafficking Walkathon. More information at www.traffickjam.cfht.net. In Winnipeg, it starts at the Forks at 10:30 a.m.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Oh My God by Jars of Clay
Oh my God, look around this place,
Your fingers reach around the bone,
you set the break and set the tone
For flights of grace, and future falls
In present pain all fools say, "Oh my God."
Oh my God, why are we so afraid?
we make it worse when we don't bleed,
there is no cure for our disease.
Turn a phrase and rise again,
or fake your death and only tell your closest friends,
Oh My God.
Oh my God, can I complain?
You take away my firm belief and graft my soul upon your grief.
Weddings, boats, and alibis,
All drift away, and a mother cries...
Liars and fools, sons and failures, thieves will always say..
Lost and found, ailing wanderers, healers always say..
Whores and angels, men with problems, leavers always say..
Broken hearted, separated, orphans always say..
War creators, racial haters, preachers always say..
Distant fathers, fallen warriors, givers always say..
Pilgrim saints, lonely widows, users always say..
Fearful mothers, watchful doubters, Saviors always say..
Sometimes I can not forgive
and these days mercy cuts so deep,
If the world was how it should be, maybe I could get some sleep.
While I lay, I'd dream we're better, scales were gone and faces lighter,
When we wake we hate our brother, we still move to hurt each other,
Sometimes I can close my eyes and all the fear the keeps me silent,
Falls below my heavy breathing, what makes me so badly bent?
We all have a chance to murder, we all have the need for wonder.
We still want to be reminded that the pain is worth the plunder.
Sometimes when I lose my grip, I wonder what to make of heaven,
All the times I thought to reach up, all the times I had to give up.
Babies underneath their beds, in hospitals that cannot treat them.
All the wounds that money causes, all the comforts of cathedrals,
All the cries of thirsty children, this is our inheritance,
All the rage of watching mothers, this is our greatest offense
Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God.
Your fingers reach around the bone,
you set the break and set the tone
For flights of grace, and future falls
In present pain all fools say, "Oh my God."
Oh my God, why are we so afraid?
we make it worse when we don't bleed,
there is no cure for our disease.
Turn a phrase and rise again,
or fake your death and only tell your closest friends,
Oh My God.
Oh my God, can I complain?
You take away my firm belief and graft my soul upon your grief.
Weddings, boats, and alibis,
All drift away, and a mother cries...
Liars and fools, sons and failures, thieves will always say..
Lost and found, ailing wanderers, healers always say..
Whores and angels, men with problems, leavers always say..
Broken hearted, separated, orphans always say..
War creators, racial haters, preachers always say..
Distant fathers, fallen warriors, givers always say..
Pilgrim saints, lonely widows, users always say..
Fearful mothers, watchful doubters, Saviors always say..
Sometimes I can not forgive
and these days mercy cuts so deep,
If the world was how it should be, maybe I could get some sleep.
While I lay, I'd dream we're better, scales were gone and faces lighter,
When we wake we hate our brother, we still move to hurt each other,
Sometimes I can close my eyes and all the fear the keeps me silent,
Falls below my heavy breathing, what makes me so badly bent?
We all have a chance to murder, we all have the need for wonder.
We still want to be reminded that the pain is worth the plunder.
Sometimes when I lose my grip, I wonder what to make of heaven,
All the times I thought to reach up, all the times I had to give up.
Babies underneath their beds, in hospitals that cannot treat them.
All the wounds that money causes, all the comforts of cathedrals,
All the cries of thirsty children, this is our inheritance,
All the rage of watching mothers, this is our greatest offense
Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Justice for the Poor
For the next 6 Sundays, I'll be leading an adult Sunday school class at my church (something I've never done before) called Justice for the Poor (more at www.sojo.net). I hope to be able to share some of the insights and discussions that come up between now and the end of May.
I did a promo of the class in my church way back in January, but things were delayed. I ordered the books, but they got lost in the mail and then another study series came up, so now we can finally start. I don't doubt God's timing - I'm sure that the class is happening now for a specific reason, the least of which is to remind me once again of the mission that God has called me to.
I did a promo of the class in my church way back in January, but things were delayed. I ordered the books, but they got lost in the mail and then another study series came up, so now we can finally start. I don't doubt God's timing - I'm sure that the class is happening now for a specific reason, the least of which is to remind me once again of the mission that God has called me to.
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