Small Hours

June 2007

Hello Everyone,

A few introductory and administrative notes before I begin.

If you are writing to me at any other address than inbal.alon@gmail.com, I am not getting your e mails, so please change your address books.

You are all on this list because at some point you expressed an interest in my work and/or where in the world I am. As many of you know, for a few years now, I keep a journal when I travel and share updates with friends, colleagues, and family. I feel fortunate to see so much of the world, and besides enjoying this experiment in creative writing, I also feel that it is my responsibility to balance the overly negative and simplistic portrayals of developing countries and global problems with more personal, complex, and optimistic narratives. So every few weeks you can expect an e mail from me, and this year you can also read the mails and see pictures on my blog (http://inbala.blogspot.com/). If you enjoy reading, I ask that you forward the updates to others, as the purpose of this is to share ideas and get more people to feel a personal connection to different parts of the world. Also, please feel free to post comments on the blog so that you can discuss with other people reading.

Around this time last year I was packing my bags to leave Lugufu, the Congolese refugee camp in Tanzania where I worked after Zanzibar, and to come back to Boston. As I look at the piles of paper, books, handouts, posters, tickets, and notes that cover my room and start to think about packing again, it is hard to believe that a year has gone by. The year has been so rich in friendships, experiences, learning, and reflection that it feels like a long time, and yet it went by so fast, sometimes I can close my eyes and still see the smiles of children in Lugufu, not to mention I still have not gotten around to unpacking some of those old suitcases. I knew when I left Lugufu that I had found something special. We all search for perfect-fit; a profession, a hobby, an activity, a discussion that fills our soul, while stretching our intellect and exciting the heart, something that awakens all our senses of being human. I found that in Lugufu: the joy of working directly with children and adults, the challenge of making ‘temporary’ conditions in camps conducive to long-term development of refugee communities, the promise of education, the urgency of current needs, and the inspiring perseverance of the human spirit. In a place that most people consider depressing, I found hope and I found myself. And so, it was hard to believe that leaving would enhance the experience, but it did! Taking a year to study, a time-out to reflect, an opportunity to learn new ideas in the context of previous experiences has allowed me to unpack those experiences, memory by memory, question by question.

It would be impossible to share with you all of this year at the Harvard Graduate School of Education, but there are moments that stand out, and even those are too many, so I pick and chose as things come to mind.

Early in the year, while I was still overwhelmed with my new classes, delighted by wonderful new friends, and adjusting to spending long hours in Gutman library, I had the opportunity to go listen to Stephen Lewis give a lecture on his new book, Race Against Time: Searching for Hope in AIDS Ravaged Africa. Stephen Lewis, the former UN special Envoy for AIDS in Africa and the director of the Stephen Lewis Foundation for AIDS in Africa, is a wonderful speaker who can juggle words into intricate stories of humanity. He spoke of many stories and lessons from his many trips to Africa, and a few really stayed with me. He spoke of responding to the AIDS crisis as an obligation to respecting the human right to health. The response to the AIDS crisis, including prevention campaigns, treating the sick, taking care of orphans, and searching for a cure is indeed noble, but it is not charity. It is work people often support from the kindness in their heart, but that the international community must recognize as a responsibility and duty to the promotion of universal human rights. ‘Rights-based development’ – I have heard of the concept before but in his words it makes sense. The integration of human rights to international development framework has the potential to create accountability mechanisms, and facilitate development assistance in a manner that respects local knowledge and culture and builds local capacity. And all of a sudden the decision to study international development and human rights of refugees at an education school makes sense, and I smile, and Mr. Lewis keeps talking, and the small moment passes. Stephen Lewis also talks about grandmothers in Africa who take care of orphans as their own children die. He has pictures of beautiful old women whose wrinkles, bright eyes, and shy smiles hide lifetimes of joyous and sad stories, surrounded by children whose young faces are already cognizant of the challenges ahead. He speaks of women as the foundation of hope, and I remember all the strong women I’ve come across in my journeys and wish they could all hear this oration of respect that is really about all of them. Mostly, the lecture is a complex combination of a realistic understanding of very tough challenges and a hopeful, positive tone. That too makes me smile. I have often wondered how adversity and perseverance are so often found together, and have tried to share Africa through my eyes, which despite the poverty, disease, etc etc, have always seen beauty, strength, courage, and hope. Human rights, the role of women, and hope… not bad for an afternoon, and as the year continues to unfold these three topics continue to guide me.

The human rights community at Harvard is wonderfully plentiful with professors, students, and visitors studying human rights and its many intersections with other disciplines. There was so much to learn and absorb and as always in human rights so much work to be done that it all happened simultaneously. It felt like learning the moves to a dance while performing on stage and trying to teach the audience to dance along. Professor Jacqueline Bhabha provided much of the foundation, linking human rights to children, refugees, and other vulnerable populations in a style that always pushed me to think critically and question. Professor Bhabha has a way of explaining the most intellectually challenging dilemmas in a very real and human way that elegantly presents human rights as both an academic topic and a very emotional experience. The University Committee on Human Rights Studies organized a series on Darfur advocacy, an effort to increase awareness about the ongoing genocide in Darfur, and the complexity of rights-based responses in a world of politics and economics. I was not really sure where I fit into the pictures, but somehow between the events, talks, and getting to know people, I found my role. I started working on educational resources for high school students about advocacy and social change, using Darfur as a case study. As part of this ongoing project I had the honor to interview a series of Darfur advocates. It was fascinating and inspiring, the different attitudes and motivations, the diversity of people around a common cause. Bec Hamilton is a fellow student but her accomplishments in Darfur advocacy are numerous. The Harvard Darfur Action Group, which she helped start, convinced the university to divest from oil companies in Sudan, starting a national movement in the US against investments that directly support Sudan’s oppressive regime. Bec can move mountains with her will and dedication, and her message is that as the genocide continues, we can’t give up, but need to be more innovative, more bold, until we find something that works, that stops that atrocities happening on our watch. Omer Ismail is a dear friend from Darfur who guided me through much of the process. He is a man of many trades; an activist, an academic, a lobbyist, a journalist, and a teacher. He does what he can and adapts to the challenges. Between testimonies for the UN and the US congress he finds time to have lunch with me every few months, living his principle that every person counts, that advocacy is not about convincing the masses but about making friends, adding one by one people who are aware and care. Gloria White-Hammond is a pastor and an activist who has been a Sudan activist since the wars in Southern Sudan. She has been to Darfur many times to listen, to bear witness, to be a friend in a time of need. She finds inspiration from Nelson Mandela, whom in the midst of Apartheid found hope in his belief that things will change in his life time, that such evil cannot continue. Gloria speaks with similar conviction; the genocide is Darfur will be stopped, she is sure of it, and she plans to help speed that process. Sifa Nsengimana is from Rwanda; she was studying in Canada when most of her family was massacred in the Rwandan genocide. She can’t let that happen again, to anyone, or else the death of her family was in vain. She gets tired from time to time, as we all do, but than she remembers the plight of others and she keeps going, for her family. And there are others, Sarah-Catherine Phillips who continues the divestment campaign at Harvard, Daniel Millenson, a university student who is one of the organizers of the national Sudan Divestment Initiative, high schools students already taking a stand, and others, each inspiring and driven by his or her own story. I listen to the stories and think of ways to share them with students in the U.S, to facilitate a process of personal reflection about what it means to be a global citizen, an advocate for human rights. In essence this experience is part of a life quest, teaching compassion. I discover the power of storytelling, of giving people voice and facilitating sharing, and in a very small way for a fleeting moment, I feel like part of a community of people who will, I most sincerely hope, change history.

One of the fun parts (though it was stressful at the time) was the plethora of courses from which I could chose to study. With not many electives, it was always though to decide between the many courses that sounded fascinating. Clicking through the internet catalogue for the Kennedy School of Government, I would have usually skipped over the international security policy section, but I stop at a course being offered with Ambassador Swanee Hunt called inclusive security. Ambassador Hunt was the U.S ambassador to Austria during the conflict in the former Yugoslavia and has been a leading voice for the inclusion of women in security, conflict resolution, and post-conflict reconstruction decisions. The course is a once-in-a-lifetime experience; it happens simultaneously with a training program for women from around the world, called women waging peace. This year we are honored to meet guests from Sudan, Uganda, Liberia, Iraq, Iran, Colombia, and Nepal, all countries affected by conflict. There is a lot to be learned in the classroom, but there is nothing like having breakfast with a group of Ugandan parliament members and listening to them talk about how they created a non-partisan women’s caucus to address issues of education, peace, gender, and livelihoods. In between morning lectures, a frail woman from Sudan, about half my size, wrapped head-to-toe in a light pink fabric, and with large, dark, bright eyes tells me how she has traveled hundreds of kilometers, at times on foot, to show up at peace negotiations and demand women be allowed to participate, in the same breath, she also mentions when she goes for a long time, her young daughter misses her. These women are parliament members, wives, mothers, sisters, friends, professionals, and everything else. We all watch a movie about parliament members in Rwanda, the only parliament in the world that has almost 50% women representatives. The women explain how after the genocide president Kagame made a rule that 30% of the seats were reserved for women. The women saved their strongest candidates for the regular elections and ended up with almost 50% of the seats. The visiting parliament members smile at the possibilities in their countries, and the sharing of experiences gives them confidence and hope. We observe, students from countries where women still represent such a small percentage of elected leaders and we’re in awe of what we can learn. I sit back and admire the accomplishments of these women, soak in the energy in the room, the beauty of the exchange, the humility. Swanee is a wonderful facilitator, she creates opportunities for exchange with such ease and fluidity; she is a living testament that elegance and strength can be bundled together. She is so beautifully comfortably in her femininity and justly unapologetic for demanding the inclusion of women in decision-making. In these days, I also meet Betty Ocan Aol, a lovely plump woman with the most beautiful kind smile. She is from Gulu, a district in Northern Uganda, and in her house she takes care of 27 children who are orphans of her brothers and sisters who have died in the conflict there. She is dedicated to the rehabilitation of child soldiers and the education of children who have been hurt by the 20 yeas of war. She invites me to meet her family, to join her effort, ‘there is so much work to do in education,’ she says. When I hug her to say good bye, I say I hope someday I can come see her, and at the time we both do not know how soon that is about to happen very soon.

Throughout the year there are many more moments of learning, and there are too many to recount. I was fortunate to meet friends like Rochelle and Iva who through their work on human trafficking and child soldiers taught me so much about the power of good research to help us understand complex problems, as the first step to exploring solutions. At the beginning of the year, I thought it would be nice for a group of graduate students to share and discuss ideas about how education can foster global citizenship. To my delight, a vibrant and dedicated group of people came together and organized many stimulating events. A wonderful panel organized by Tanya discussed the power of information technology to connect young people in meaningful ways and enhance their understanding and caring about the world. Another event, put together by Layli, brought a pair of Israeli and Palestinian friends who work with history teachers from both sides of the story to build the capacity of the next generation to recognize there are two sides to every stories and both can be correct. A representative from the United Nations Association of Greater Boston shared with us how their global classrooms program allows students to negotiate world issues.

Another key highlight was with another student group, Voices for Africa, where with the help of Emily, Kamille, Sarah, Kalpna, Bisola, Rachel, Crystal, and Pierre we put together a conference for 180 participants. Our aim was to create discussion around education issues in Africa and to do so in a way that portrays the tough challenges while also celebrating the beauty, resourcefulness, and resilience of the continent and its people. The conference was a great day, good discussions, inspiring speakers, good Tanzanian food, and even some lively African drumming and dancing. I learned a lot about leadership from these groups and experiences. In the past, I have thought about leadership as leading from the front or from the back. Now, I feel that people don’t really want someone right in front – you block the view – and having someone pushing from the back can throw off the rhythm. Instead, people need a friend to walk besides them, and when you really collaborate with people and give everyone a voice, good leadership is all about trust and honesty.

I learned the most from my friends, whether it was late night discussions with Sholeh about ideas in our upcoming papers, long chats with Pierre about the role of foreign aid in Africa, sharing experiences with Junko, or getting some encouragement from Ben. There was always a great friend to talk, to process ideas, and to learn together. I learned from my teachers, from professors in the university to teachers at Monument High School, where I did part of my work-study, who taught me about the challenges of teaching in contemporary society. Mostly, I learned from the children, whether it was the kids at Brandywine, a community center where I did the second half of my work study, or the small children of the Somali women I tutor on Sundays, their smiles, questions, curiosity, and beauty reminded me all the time about why I care so much about education.

Many years ago in Ghana, I realized the importance of celebrating small victories along the way. Perhaps, it is not the lesson one expects out of a masters degree, but this year I have learned to appreciate the importance of small learnings. Beyond the big frameworks and complex theory, there are ahhhh-ahhhhh moments where something small makes sense, and perhaps the most important aspect of this year has been learning to ask questions.

And so in the honor of small victories and small learnings (and also the many small hours in Gutman Library), a brief quotation from a song by Rob Thomas:

"our lives are madein these small hoursthese little wonders, these twists & turns of fatetime falls away, but these small hours, these small hours still remain..."

Thinking about Lugufu, the small moments there, having tea and listening to laughter, I realized the immensity of truth in the UNHCR slogan “it takes courage to be a refugee.” I think about the million of children who have had traumatic experiences because of conflict and how remarkable they are for moving on, living life, being members of their communities, and I admire them. I want them to have an education that admires them too, that recognizes their resilience, that assists them in rehabilitating and reintegration into a peaceful society. With the support of the NGK fellowship and the University Committee on Human Rights, I get a chance, and I’ll spend the next 15 months in Gulu, Northern Uganda, working with Windle Trust, an NGO providing scholarships and educational services to former child soldiers…. and now that we are all caught up, I hope you will stay with me over the next 15 months and share this experience.

Finally, the most sincere of gratitude to my family and Pierre whose support not only made this year possible, but also extremely happy and enjoyable.

To all of you, thanks for being in my life,
Inbal