Friday, June 27, 2008

1-2-3-4 we don't want this dirty war, 5-6-7-8...

In high school, I was an activist. Whether it was child labor, police brutality, the Iraq war, or the environment, I was there and ready with my witty homemade sign hollering down the streets of Manhattan, Philadelphia, DC, and España. From protests to information forums, from youth speak-out sessions to being co-head of the social action committee, I organized, facilitated, and participated my way through them all. I had my cause, many in fact, and I was passionate about making positive change about these injustices through education and the congregation of passionate, like-minded people.


I was proud of what I did and the issues I stood for. My parents were thrilled to see their daughter passionate and opinionated about global social change. Even when I was arrested on April 7, 2003 at a protest in front of the Carlyle Group Offices in Manhattan and charged with two counts of disorderly conduct and one count of ‘obstructing the governmental administration of the law,’ (a class A misdemeanor) and my picture appeared on the front page of the New York Times Metro Section, my father told everyone in his office proudly and my mother made a poster with my picture and related articles.


I proudly walked around my liberal arts college, knowing that I had done great things in my young life. But had I?

The year was 2005 and I was sitting across from Harry in a restaurant somewhere in Mexico. I started bragging about my activism record. Harry was unimpressed. “Yea. Ok. But what did you do?” He asked, “What did you accomplish by getting arrested? What did you DO by going to the protest? What change did you promote?” Furious and insulted, I threw some half-thoughtout gibberish at him about how, by educating people about issues, I was making positive change. The conversation spiraled out of my control and I went to bed that night unhappy and defeated.

But of course, Harry spoke with a grain (if not a bushel) of truth. So much that I had worked for, had dedicated myself to, collapsed. I wasn’t making the kind of change that I wanted to. Protests were meaningless because it was a congregation of the like-minded who, instead of including people, pushed them away. Getting arrested did nothing except leave me with a good story to tell. (And, oh, what a sweet story it is...)

So I began the painful process of abandoning previous assumptions and starting anew. What were the ways I wanted to change the world that would be both effective and true to my values? I came up with two: education and media. The media, I reasoned, was too corrupt to dip my fingers into. I would be told what a could and couldn't write. And I risk not being published due to content. So, education it was! And I began my path towards teacherhood.

But it’s not that easy, I found out. As I traveled more, I came across new lessons to learn and new battles to fight against. In Central America I talked with people who had fought (yea with guns) for their right to self-govern and still they lived under corrupt governments. I saw poverty and I looked her in the face. In the West Bank, people were living under a harsh occupation. The things I saw and the stories I heard were unbearable.

And the question I’ve been grappling with is: how can I help? I’m just one person. Sure I can buy groceries for a starving family, but does that solve the problem of poverty? No. I can send a stream of curses to an occupying solder, but does that DO anything? No. How can I help?

It’s true that we cannot solve all the problems in the world, but that doesn’t mean we should ignore them. If we make small, lasting and positive impacts on the world and the people around us, we can feel proud. Global change doesn’t occur in an hour from one single event, but rather it occurs when people get together and put their minds and resources together for a common cause. Let’s start small and think big. Before we know it our efforts will yield beautiful results.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Christian-libertarian-environmentalist-lunatic grass farmer

My first introduction to Joel Salatin was through the eyes and words of Michael Pollan, author of “The Omnivore’s Dilemma.” Little did I know that as I carefully opened the cover and fingered the crisp pages of this new book, the way I viewed food was about to change… drastically!

A self described “Christian-libertarian-environmentalist-lunatic grass farmer,” Saladin claims that the success of his farm and every organism within it depends on the quality of the keystone species, grass.

Salatin’s beyond-organic farm is modeled almost completely from the natural local ecosystem; biodiversity is its strength.

Take a plot of grassy land. First the cows are brought in to graze on a myriad of different plant species that we have shoved under the umbrella term: grass. They eat the plants that they need and leave their cow messes in the field. At night they are moved to a new plot of grass. If the cows were to stay in the same place for too long, they would destroy the plant life and bacteria and parasites would be encouraged to thrive.

Instead, three days after the cows have vacated the premise, the chickens are brought in. They feed on the shorter grasses that the cows have uncovered by eating the longer plant life. They also pick through the cow droppings to find and eat delicious bugs. In addition, their nitrogenous excrement is great for the soil. (In nature, birds will follow roaming herbivores in this manner. The two groups have developed a mutually beneficial relationship.)

But that’s not all. Many many organisms and species have been working together to promote an environment that is healthy and provides benefits for all of those who contribute to its health. Don’t forget the earthworms, the nitrogen-fixing bacteria, the pigs, and the trees. On the farm, the human is just there to be the facilitator.

Ok. I’m rambling… But it is clear that a healthy, sustainable agricultural system is one in which many species work together. Take away one of those species, and you produce long-lasting and detrimental effects on all of those involved.

Industrializing agriculture (planting and harvesting a monoculture of, say, corn) is taking away that natural balance that is so crucial to the health of our planet. Straying from this natural balance can spur consequences that are unpredictable and far reaching.

But it’s not so easy for the small farmer. The industry of food production, in conjunction with the U.S. Government, has done an excellent job of monopolizing the market. They over-produce cheap crops and have done a fine job of exploiting that produce. Corn, for example, is a food that is easily grown in monoculture and can get processed (and then further processed, and further…) until it is virtually unrecognizable. We find it every where in our diet. We are even forcing our cows to eat corn, which their digestive organs are not equipped to digest, and to dwell in their own fecal matter. When they get sick from the corn fermenting in their bellies, we stuff them full of pharmaceuticals. When they develop bacterial infections, we give them antibiotics. Is that what we want to think about when we’re lifting that fork to our mouths? And we wonder why our country has such a high occurrence rate of heart disease, diabetes, obesity… and our government’s answer to that: MORE PHARMACEUTICALS!

Now I’m not preaching vegetarianism. Far from it.

Salatin provides a farm where cows are free to behave like cows; chickens like chickens; and so forth. Are the animals happy? Well, that’s another discussion… but what’s so wrong with letting animals do what comes natural to them?

Why am I writing all this? I guess my message is: know where your food comes from! Of all the things we do in life, we have a choice of what we put into our bodies. Why would we turn an apathetic blind eye to something so important to our health and overall wellbeing?

So confident in the workings, cleanliness and morality of his work, Salatin’s farm is a transparent farm, meaning: you can stop by any time and take a poke around. You can see where the animals feed, sleep, poo, bred and eventually get turned into food as we know it. Salatin believes so much in what he’s doing that he’ll invite you right in and happily answer your questions.

On the other side of the spectrum, the industrial food companies have closed the door to visitors. It is now off limits to see where and how your food is prepared, a right we all should have.

So what can we do? We can embrace our communities. We can find the local farmers and talk to them. We can eat regionally and seasonally. On average, 50 calories of (fossil fuel) energy go into creating 1 calorie of food. 5 of which go into transport. By buying locally, we are using less fossil fuel to transport our food from Argentina to New Zealand, to the Czech Republic to somewhere in the U.S. By knowing our food growers and producers, we are stimulating local economy and protecting the environment.

When I found out that Joel Salatin was coming to speak in Bremerton, I knew that I had to go. From what I’ve read, it was bound to be an energetic and electrifying talk!

Bouncing out of work at an early hour, I sped down to Pier 52 for the Bremerton Ferry. An hour later I was navigating my bike through the streets toward Olympic College. Once oriented, I found myself with two hours to spare. I rode down to a coffee shop for a latte and a jaw-breaking bagel.

Back at the venue, I adorned my name tag and poked my nose around the information tables piled high with pamphlets and pictures. 10 reasons why I should eat local and an index of all the farmers’ markets in Washington. Following a brief, local food buffet, we gathered onto the unforgiving bleachers in the sweltering gymnasium. After a parade of introductory speakers (through which I doodled and made small talk with Dennis, the chicken farmer to my right), a balding man bounded up to the microphone. Here he was, the man himself.

In the rise and fall of his intonations and the whirlwind of his oratory energy, I was able to pick out a few shining phrases. He made note that “no civilization has been able to be so far removed from their local ecology like we’ve been to ours” and it’s all due to the “industrial fecal factory concentration camp farms.” We have turned food “into a pile of inanimate stuff.” We give little thought to where it comes from and what goes into its production.

One person in Vermont had complained to him about spending $1.69 for an organic ear of corn. How could buying organic it be so much better than spending $.89 for the conventional corn? The real question, says Salatin gaining momentum, is why you need to have corn in Vermont in March?! Eating what is in season is not only cheaper, but also better quality than the food picked green and shipped thousands of miles to ripen in your supermarket.

The community, he says, that feeds itself is the most free. It is true on many different levels. “Let’s heal the planet, one plate at a time.”

Following the brief Q&A, I missed the 9pm ferry back to Seattle to personally thank Salatin for coming and to take my picture with him! (I had to wait 2 hours and 40 minutes for the next ferry!)

Sunday, June 22, 2008

To NYC and Back: Rollerblading, Sangria and 4am Subway Rides from Brooklyn

As I sit on this transcontinental flight to my homecity of New York, a lot’s going through my head. From the uncomfortable coach seats to food politics, from the pecan pies I should make for my father’s surprise birthday party, to the situation in Sudan, and, HEY, did someone just kick my seat?!

So why am I flying to New York with so little time left in Seattle? Today is my father’s birthday. Some of his friends were planning a surprise party and invited me along. The party’s not until Saturday, so I have to lay low until then. Maybe I shouldn’t even be writing this on my blog. Crap.

Hmmm… how’s this? I’ll write it now and post it later. He’ll never know!

Sleep swiftly overcomes me with the aid of my ear plugs, drowning out airplane chatter and unhappy unpotty-trained ones. I sleep on and off, off and on until Pennsylvania. Thank Goddess for non-stop flights.

$6 for a plate of slimy, over-processed cheese?! Ha ha. No way. I’ll stick to orange juice and club soda. Gratis. Remember when the airlines willingly handed over a tray of hot flavorless “food product”? We all made fun of it. “Ugh. More airline food,” we’d say, all high and mighty with our noses in the air. Well, I guess the airlines had enough of our ridicule because they stopped serving it for free. We’re a lot more grateful for something if we have to pay for it. And those of us who’d rather swallow our pride, end up hungry. Who’s laughing now?

Dehydrated and hungry, I stagger to baggage claim. I retrieve my 43lb bag and add it to my 10+lb carry-on item. Air tram, two subways, a bus, three more subways, and a stop or two later I’m rolling up to the 96th Street Station on the 1 train. My arms are tired from hauling my bags through the crowds who care more about their schedules and manicured appearances than about pretty much anything else. In my imagination, I knock them down like bowling pins.

I’m home. I’m home to my wonderous, filthy, efficiently chaotic, terrifyingly electric, throw-up-your-hands hectic, self-centered, spine-tinglingly beautiful city.


-Ali sa


post script. i wrote this on june 18... the surprise birthday was a success along with my unintentionally crustless pecan pies.






dad thought that we were using trick candles. that's his i-told-you-so face!





now i'm off to the airport amidst the mood-swinging weather and the comforts that only the new york city subway (and its inhabitants) can provide. seattle, show me whatchoo got.

Saturday, June 21, 2008

Dear Senator Obama,

As an avid Obama supporter, I regretfully condemn your comments made in the article “At 60, Israel has much to celebrate.”

As a 20something biracial teacher from New York with wide international experience and a passion for human rights, I ask you to look deeper.

I ask you, Senator Obama, have you ever been to Israel? With its wide cobblestoned streets, plush outdoor cafes, and beautiful people dressed in the latest fashion. On the surface, it can seem like a paradise; an oasis of western values in the desert of the Middle East. But I guess the more important question is, have you ever been to the West Bank or Gaza Strip? As of the summer of 2006, this is what I saw: half blown out buildings standing like skeletons bordering severely potholed roads. I heard the stories of citizens of all ages suffocating due to economic, political, and military oppression. Israeli soldiers, 18 or 19 years old, wielding machine guns and screaming insults, herding grandparents, parents, children, infants through a mess of metal poles, like cattle. That is a checkpoint, of which there are hundreds. Against Article 49 of the Fourth Geneva Convention of 1949, Israel has constructed hundreds of settlements and along with those settlements come checkpoints. Both severely obstruct freedom of movement for the inhabitants of the West Bank and reduce them to being prisoners in their own cities. The number of injustices done to the Palestinian populace is tremendous. If you would like further examples, you may contact me or read the copious amount of literature published on the matter. Or see it first hand yourself.

When you say that Israel has built “one of the world’s most vibrant democracies,” this simply is not true. In order to maintain its Jewish-homeland status it must repress a great number of Arab (Christian and Moslem) inhabitants. The discrimination of people based on their religion is something the United States has opposed for years. Then why is it okay to support it now?

To play Israel as the victim of the terrorist groups Hamas and Iran, is a completely one-sided approach to foreign policy. I thought of you as an innovator of new ideas in Washington, but I see that portraying Israel as the beacon of shining light amid neighboring bully Arab or Persian states is still a popular idea. What surprises me is that politicians like yourself still consider Israel the victim even though it has strongly and violently asserted itself in 1948, 1967, 2006, and today. In fact, looking at the conflicts of the past 60 years, I would say that Israel has proven to be a bigger, more aggressive bully. These military endeavors would not have been possible without the ridiculous quantity (and quality) of U.S. aid to Israel. This aid, which you have promised in the form of a blank check, is providing new means by which Israel can continue its aggressive, oppressive, and violent behaviors.

Upon doing my research, I found that you were once in support of the rights of the Palestinian people. I always thought you to be true to your beliefs. I’m sorry if you are now “proud to be [part of the legions of admirers of Israel],” but I guess it goes to show how easy it is to succumb to the political pressure exerted by prominent pro-Israeli figures.

What I ask, Senator Obama, is that you remember why it is that you are running for the presidency. If one of those reasons is because you want to change the face of politics, if it is to put an end to the tiring game of old politics, then I suggest you practice what you preach and don’t lose sight of your values to become more like your opponents.

In response to those who may make unfair judgments of me, I would like to end by saying that I am no way anti-Semitic nor am I anti-Israel. I am, however, anti-Israeli foreign and domestic policy. I am anti-violence, in all of its forms and I am a proud supporter of human rights.

For change that all the citizens of the world can believe in,

Alisa

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Karaoke and farmers' markets have left me incoherently sleepy. Forgive me.

Nate’s going to be happy to see this.

These are exciting times. Changes, large and small, are unfolding and galloping unfettered leaving a wake of chaos and curiosity.

My last day of work was last Friday. Now that I’m unemployed, I really don’t know what to do with myself. So, I don’t do anything anymore. Nothing at all. Oh, I’ve taken to biking and cooking. Biking and cooking, that’s all I do. Nothing else. Oh yea. We went rockclimbing yesterday as well… but I’d trade it all for a thermos.

Nate and I are caught in the midst of a selling and packing frenzy. The date of departure is now July 1st. It’s amazing how much stuff you accumulate over one year! But I like to travel light, so we have to find new homes for it all. So if anyone wants some stuff (couch, futon, kitchen stuff….), just let me know..!

Why are we leaving Seattle? And where are we going?! The weather is just getting nice. Sun has awoken for the first time in months. The forests are green and the Queen Anne picket-fence flowers are up. Summer is near. It’s a shame, but it’s time to move on.

Don’t get me wrong, Seattle has been great. It’s given us so many opportunities to branch out. I’ve gotten a chance to explore the beautiful, diverse state with my science vans. I love exploring the farmers markets during the day and exploiting Capitol Hill’s dancing clubs until early morning hours. Nate and I have gotten a chance to escape to nearby rockclimbing treasures. There’s forest, desert, mountains, rainforest, coastlines, and everything in between. However, the prospect of adventure has prompted me to dust off my traveling shoes and stretch out my wings. Sur America prepare yoself.

So that’s it. My first blog post. Nate’s jumping on the couch with joy. Can’t you see him?