Ho Chi Minh

There's a window at my house in California that had a little ledge in front of it, and my sisters and I all climbed on it at one time or another until we were too big to fit on it. Last week I discovered the same kind of ledge beneath the window in the kitchen of my dorm, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I climbed on it and stood there for a while.

There's something very comforting about home.

I still hate sleeping with the door open even though the light in the hallway is never on here.

I still have the same wakeup routines--get up, wash your face, do your hair, get dressed, eat breakfast, brush your teeth and leave. In that order precisely.

I still yank my sheets so they aren't tucked under my bed and I still tuck them under my legs instead.

1.18 million Vietnamese, whose lives were changed by economic reforms or the "Renovation" moved to urban areas (Anh).

I guess these people, these Vietnamese people in Ho Chi Minh City thought the same way I do. If you did it at home, you do it here too. If you ate something at home you eat it here too. If you normally sit on the window ledge in the country you do it on the twentieth floor too. Old habits die hard. You don't do it because you're homesick, not always. You do it because that's what you do. 

It doesn't matter if you just left your home and your family's home. It doesn't matter if you aren't farming anymore, if you don't work in the market anymore. You do what is familiar.

1995 was a year after I was born. These people had habits before I knew what the word meant. So why did they have to break these habits? Why did they move?

Anh, Dang Nguyen. "Migration in Vietnam." N.p., n.d. Web. 27 Mar. 2013.

 Salgado, Sebastião. Migrations. New York: Aperture. 388. Print.

Barrios and Quarries

You have to look close at this photo to realize what it really is—a gaping hole in the middle of a city. There are houses, if you can call them that, on the edge of the quarry, about to make the leap in to the abyss. Who knows how many children have slipped and fell? Who knows how many ‘accidents’ have occurred in this barrio?

Mexico City is on its way to becoming one of the most urbanized areas in the world with over 19 million people in less than 760,000 square miles (“Mexico”). This population is concentrated in barrios and slums where people live below the poverty line as a norm, not the exception. There are so many people that despite the danger and the crime that is rampant in these areas, no one is moving out—they can’t. It is next to impossible for young children in Mexico to stay out of recruiting gangs, and because these same gangs are a source of survival, they are kept going for years. In order to leave you have to have money, you have to have connections, and if you live in the barrios you have neither.

So it’s bad. It’s bad enough that the barrios are growing, because there is nowhere else to go. Its bad enough that these barrios appear anywhere, even on the edge of abandoned quarries. It’s bad.

"Mexico Facts." National Geographic. National Geographic, n.d. Web. 20 Mar. 2013.

 Salgado, Sebastião. Migrations. New York: Aperture. 316. Print.

Atasehir

I’ve realized that I am really drawn to these photographs of children. Every now and then I include a work by Salgado of an adult, but mostly the children catch my eye. I’m not exactly sure why; maybe I can identify more easily with them or maybe it’s just an instinct to nurture.

Regardless, I chose this photograph because of the children in it. I was looking through this book full of black and white photographs and every photograph is full and dark and sad faces and each face is full of pain and trail, every photograph but this one. This one stood out because these children are running and laughing, they’re having fun.

I think that if I were more talented I would Photoshop these children out of this background and put them in a park, on a playground, or at a friend’s house. I would put them inside the city they live by, I would make their surroundings match their emotions.

The truth is, though, no matter how much I can try to Photoshop, that this photograph was taken outside a city in a refugee camp that has no external aid (Salgado). Many of the people who moved here because their homes were destroyed in an earthquake with a magnitude of 6.3 still live in tents (“1998”).

They’re still happy. It makes me wonder how much our society groans and complains, and compared to this photograph and this life I don’t think it is warranted. If children half the world away can live in tents and garbage and have fun and laugh, then there is no reason why we can’t. If humanity is resilient in Istanbul, it must be resilient in Seattle and New York and Salt Lake City.

Salgado, Sebastião. Migrations. New York: Aperture. 363. Print.

"1998 Turkey: Adana, Ceyhan Earthquake." Www.sciencedaily.com. N.p., n.d. Web. 13

 Mar. 2013.

The Yuracruz Peasants

This little girl is tiny—she can only be about four—but her face makes her look like she is a middle aged adult. She has an air of determination. She knows that life has been hard, but that won’t make her give up. She knows that she is owed something and she knows she will get it. Although you can see figures in the distance, she seems so very alone, and the combination of her solitude and lack of color makes her seem like an adult so much more.

I have never seen a four year old with this expression. A lot of teenagers never even have this expression. So what, exactly, caused so much trial as to create a woman out of a child in less than a few years?

This girl belongs to a family of peasants who live in Yuracruz, Imbabura Province, Ecuador. The peasants in Yuracruz, who almost definitely include this little girl’s family, bargained with the owner of the land they farmed to buy they land; they would put up so much money and the government would cover the rest (Salgado). The only problem with this plan was the execution. Although the peasants of Yuracruz raised their fifteen percent, or three million sucres [71,430 U.S. dollars], the government of Ecuador failed to generate the last 85% (Salgado).

While the peasants were waiting for government grants and loans, their economy underwent huge inflation, and by 1998 the landowner insisted that the money paid by the peasants was only .67% of the total money owed. The peasants were run off their land, and many were killed or raped (Salgado).

This picture was taken in 1998, probably just after this little girl had lost her home. So that’s what this child endured. She lost her home and probably many of her family members; she has to shoulder her own load. She’s four.

 Salgado, Sebastião. Migrations. New York: Aperture. 270-271. Print.

Left to Tell

A few weeks ago I posted a photograph from the Rwandan Genocide while I was reading Left To Tell, a book by Immaculée Ilibagiza, who survived the genocide by hiding in a bathroom for three months. I feel that this book accurately conveys the truth of the genocide and I encourage you all to read it. 

There are few things that surprise in the current age: crime, although abhorred by most, is extremely present, and many are murdered every day. However, Left to Tell did surprise and even shock me. The Rwandan Genocide was a name stored in the corner of my mind that recalled the Holocaust, but only vaguely and abstractly. I knew the denotation of the word genocide, but I could not understand the magnitude of the phrase until I read Immaculée Ilibagiza’s narrative.

The horror of the Genocide is contrasted sharply with Ilibagiza’s actual narrative, which was a story more about her path to faith and her friendship with God than any death that occurred during the massacre. Further examination of Immaculée’s situation continued to amaze not only on a horrific note but also on a very spiritual one. No one would begrudge any Tutsi his revenge or his hatred of Hutus based on the history between the two tribes, but Ilibagiza refuses to let anger overcome her love of God and of the gospel of Christ.

This book changed the way I perceive life. It is always so easy to dislike or even loathe people I barely know, let alone those I frequently see. I never considered these feelings, and I am sure that if I had I would feel justified in my opinions, but Left to Tell made me ashamed of my conduct. If forgiveness can be given to the murderer of a family, surely I can tolerate and forgive those who merely annoy me. My experiences sound so trivial and petty, and this history has made me realize that. It has made me realize that I am just one person, but even one person can make a difference. It has made me realize that through God all things are possible, including and above all else, forgiveness.

http://www.lefttotell.com/