INTERNATIONAL WOMEN’S DAY: 100 YEARS LATER

This March 8^th, as the world converges to celebrate the 100^th anniversary that acknowledges inalienable human rights to females, I inquire how this translates for me, Jamaican by birth, African by ancestry and Universal in outlook.

In a riveting exchange with the first African woman to be chosen as a Special Representative to the Secretary-General of the United Nations, we concluded that a century later, we are still demanded to work that much harder for our accomplishments to be [begrudgingly] acknowledged by both men and women. I hastily add that this concurrence emerges from a place of conscious awareness rather than from victim-hood.

Throughout my upbringing, I was encouraged to be the best that I could possibly be. Being an only child, I never experienced the issues of sibling rivalry, and having attended an all girls’ school throughout my formative years; it never dawned on me until I entered the professional arena that I may be treated differently on the basis of my biological composition. Here the biological became juxtaposed against the cultural as well as the political. The treatment meted out to females was driven by the other’s cultural norms and attitudes, and ‘gender mainstreaming’ drove the political vehicle.

A strong advocate against injustice, initially I was outraged by this sort of largely ‘subliminal’ discrimination. The idealist within me could not reconcile that this sort of discretionary treatment could possibly exist within the hallmarks of humanitarianism. As I continued to climb the professional ladder, things deteriorated.

Refusing to succumb to the linear projections of others, I made a conscious decision to embrace, cultivate and respect my feminine approach to bureaucracy. Rather than become a victim or worse yet a ‘wanna be’ male, I chose to lead from the heart. Clearly this recipe continues to work given that I am still ‘on the ladder.’

Presently, life finds me in the heart of Africa; the Central African Republic (CAR) to be precise. Each morning as the sun rises and I stare out my window, I see women of all ages laden with baskets heavier than their body weight striding gracefully towards the markets. The younger ones may even have a baby tied to their backs.

When I drive through the markets en route to work, it is these same women that I witness harking their produce that they awoke during the darkest hours before dawn to pick. And at mealtimes, the women head home to prepare some semblance of nutrition to feed their families from their daily earnings. This scenario is by no means limited to CAR and in fact, is largely representative of the [un-defined] role of women as being the economic backbone of lesser developing countries.

Yet in many of these countries, families are forced to choose which of their children to educate and most often, the choice is clear: send the boys to school while the girls stay behind to tend the fields and take care of the household. The subsequent vicious cycle of their lack of education has many of them becoming mothers before they are adults.

In Jamaica, there are a startling number of single family households, the bulk of which are financed and run by women who wear multiple hats – mother, daughter, sister, bread-winner and community leader, struggling to survive within a society where patriarchal norms and practices reign supreme. In addition to juggling these multi-faceted roles, many continue to invest in themselves by way of further education, health and wellness and seeking spiritual sustenance – the latter I suppose to give them the strength to ‘carry on.’

100 years later, as females, the givers of Life, it is time for us to step up and claim our rightful positions within our respective societies.

How do we do begin?

Rather than perpetuating the divide, it is in our interest to help our communities to appreciate and embrace the fact that we are human, absolutely. Given the reality that we are incapable of reproducing without the other is a sound vantage point. As women, many of us are taught from a very early age that we must act and behave in a certain manner that is ‘lady-like.’ The connotations surrounding this are pervasively submissive and subservient. Too many of us value our worth against our attachment or lack thereof to a male.

My appeal on this International Women’s Day is for us to continue to create feminine ‘centrarchies’ where we are able to heal, grow and honour the women that we are. The universality of this notion calls us to collective action to support those amongst our clan who are abused, molested, marginalized, raped, objectified, victimized, ostracized and ridiculed and to celebrate those amongst us who are moving, shaking and transforming.

Together, let us join hands and hearts and share the blood, sweat, tears and laughter of the Divine Feminine. She lives within each and every one of us human beings.

Journal Entry; 3 June 2010

Recently I read an Eisenhower quote that said something to the effect that when caught in a quagmire, one needs to move to a higher level/state of consciousness to find resolve.

Another trans-Atlantic flight, 30,000 feet above sea level, at the very least presents me with this physical possibility.

Who was it that said that the opposite of love is fear?  As much as I love being ‘above and beyond it all,’ I also note where I don’t travel as comfortably as I once did.  Perhaps this has to do with an emerging state of consciousness.  On the other hand, it mightn’t even be that sophisticated – I’m being mindful not to develop a fear of flying as this would totally usurp my commitment to being a global humanitarian and Universal Empress. 

June 1^st, six months into the start of 2010 caught me between European cities; I awoke in Den Haag – my old stomping ground and 12 hours or so later, slumber found me in London town.

Upon arrival in London, I attend a yoga class with one of my favourite Jivamukti teachers; Cat.  She shares with us about having her in-laws to stay for the weekend and invites us to honour our parents irrespective of what our relationships with them may be.  I’m in awe.  At one point when she comes to assist me with a posture, she says, ‘you’ve literally smiled throughout this entire class.  I wish more students could find their joy in their movement.’  This is the power of yoga; saying everything and nothing.  Making a connection without having to explain it away with words.  Namaste.

In this month, both of my parents will celebrate landmark birthdays; on 2 and 17 June respectively.  I’m sad because I’ve missed the one on the 2^nd though happy that my Higher Powers provided me with a glorious London day with clear blue skies so that when I called and sang Happy Birthday while standing at the corner of St. John’s Wood, I could feel the love emanating through the telephone line. 

Thankfully, I’ll be home for both Father’s Day and Mum’s birthday.  My greatest wish is to just shower them both with love. 

Prior to Den Haag and London, I’d been in Italy, co-facilitating GVN’s first European based ‘Be The Change’ (BTC) programme; a resounding success at many levels.

Given that I had been riding a Haitian roller-coaster emotionally akin to Disney’s ‘Space Mountain’ with intermittent twirls on the proverbial Merry-go-round, it literally took me 48 hours after arriving in magical Italy to unwind and embrace the beauty that surrounded me.  It was also the first real indication I had of how close I was to the edge of burnout.  For my family, friends and colleagues who have bore witness to my 19 hour days, 7 days weekly for the past several months, they may bet to differ and say that I was already smoldering.

In spite of being geographically removed from Haiti, still I continued to be pulled in several directions – being a stand for others wanting to Be The Change, supporting the Haiti initiative from afar, teaching yoga and oh, as if I didn’t have enough going on, having to worry about the impact of the elusive Mr. Coke; aka Dudus, on Jamaica and my community there.  Divinely though I was being taken care of as where in Italy, I did not have access to television.

One morning in particular, I would too soon forget this vivid sequence of events:

·      0600 hrs: exhausted and feeling rather unwell, awake to an e-mail that invokes a serious argument; one of those where you shake from inside out, head to toe

·      0630 hrs:  SMS message arrives to inform me that Jamaica is in a state of emergency

·      0700 hrs:  teaching yoga class

·      0900 to 1400 hrs:  Presentations to 20 participants about life in the humanitarian world

Overwhelmed and on the verge of being buried by it all, somewhere between 0630 hrs and 0645 hrs, my inner voice of calm and reason reminds me to live in the moment and to take all of these dramas with a dose of equanimity, breathe, and do one thing at a time.  Ah, in the end, not such a bad day after all.  For the yogis out there, why does it seem to always take a situation where we are rendered helpless to understand the essence of equanimity?

Upon completion of BTC and not wanting to play tourist in Italy of all places – tells you where my state of mind, body and soul were – craving the comfort of the familiar and being surrounded by love – kinda impromptu, I venture home – to the land of canals, cheese and clogs.  Being surrounded by nature and lifelong core friends this short sojourn served as the thirst-quenching dose of respite to restore my stability, focus and perspective.  I filled my days with meandering walks and my evenings with leisurely heart-filled intimate dinners with loved ones.

As I bode my eclectic Dutch family ‘tots later’ – Miranda, Sole, Joe, David, Sofia, Suzie and Sander – I knew that I was definitely guided to be in Holland at this juncture in my life.  During my almost 9 years of living there, the last three [years], were living hell.  The transmutation that life circumstances there presented me were in fact a gift; one that I was unable to recognize until 3 years later while having a Eureka moment at my desk in Indonesia.  In acceptance of that moment and with an almost overdose of courage, I managed to depart a life that had served me well for most of my adult life and to leap empty handed into the dreaded void.

June 3, 2010

AA 105.  Remaining flight time to destination:  3:07 hrs.

The week ahead is one that I’ve greatly looked forward to; participating in a yoga workshop entitled ‘Off the Mat and Into the World.’  This workshop that will be held upstate NY combines yoga and activism.  AND I managed to get a scholarship to boot!  The crème de la crème to this workshop for me will be spending time in the presence of Marianne Williamson; the other of ‘A Return to Love.’  In it she states,

‘….our greatest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure….our playing small does not serve us nor the world in which we live…’

Ha!  In humble gratitude, even I am watching the space.

And so it is.

 

Haiti: The ‘Senegal’ of the Northern Hemisphere

 

Paris, meets downtown Kingston.  This is Petion-ville; one of Haiti’s capital Port au Prince’s, suburbs.  

The soul that this nation exudes is by no means a reflection of its devastated exterior.  As one of our [GVN] volunteers said recently of her experience there, ‘you don’t choose Haiti, Haiti chooses you.’

Six months ago, little did I imagine that it would have, could have captured me to the extent that it has.

A lifelong humanitarian with emergency response and logistics background who reigns from the Caribbean region, supporting Haiti’s recovery wasn’t a luxurious choice I had. Rather it was a clear and humbling call to service.

For a long time, I thought that Jamaica, my birthplace, was the nation that had the capacity to swing me from one emotional pendulum to the next.  With Haiti, if I’m not mindful I could develop and perhaps display schizophrenic tendencies.  There are those raw moments where the depths of emotion I feel are so strong mere words evade adequate articulation – like walking into the Jacmel Community Centre compound one blazingly hot sultry afternoon and to bear witness to a group of adult men completely engaged in an adult English class being led by one of our volunteers.  Though devoid of material wealth, Haitians remain abundant with hope.

Yet there are those other instances where one wants to move so far away from the place, you might liken it to fearing a highly contagious disease.  Upon reflection, that which I wish to discard as dis-ease may in fact be an awakening grander than anything I’ve ever experienced.  Perhaps the best place to observe this is at Port au Prince airport as weary ‘do gooders’ anxiously check-in for their flights that will return them to the safe, the comfortable, the clean, the familiar, only to realize upon their return to ALL of this that a restless void now lives within them.     

My first [social] night out in Haiti last week Friday at a local spot called ‘Half Time’ remains etched in my memories and one I know that I will treasure for a very long time.  I was reminded that most certainly, all work and no play makes for a very dull and exhausted Nadine.  The immense responsibilities of my professional position within Haiti had threatened me to starve my soul.  Thankfully, neither of my colleagues Samuel nor Jessica were having it, and insisted that I come out for a drink. 

Rum Sour #1:  shoulders drop, laughter emerges and she starts to relax. 

Rum Sour #2:  about halfway through, a dancer at heart, no longer can I remain contained in my seat.  As my newly acquired Haitian dance partner starts to sashay me across the concrete floor with the dense night heat pelting down upon us, I notice where unlike in Jamaica where our hips are in full throttle when dancing, Haitians tend to take it down a notch.  Haitian music, I experience, is a melting pot of African and Latin music that rhythmically translates to rich subtleties in the dance movements.  As I share my observation with Samuel, his only comment, which exquisitely encapsulates the distinction, is this:

‘In Jamaica [dance], y’all dance to say ‘it’s here.’  In Haiti when we dance, we say, it’s coming.’  ‘NUFF SAID.

With rum sour #2 complete and refusing to engage in #3, as we unwind we continue to be swept up in the hedonistic magic of the moment – the sweltering heat, the rum, the peanuts, the dance, the laughter and not least of all, the love. 

Given that we’d dutifully promised not be out too late – I had a flight to catch early the next morning – we left shortly after midnight, with not a care in the world.  As we approach our vehicle, we notice that it has a flat tire.  While one of the guys expeditiously pumps it up, I continue to dance in the streets, while discreetly eyeing the very handsome police officer charged with maintaining law and order.  We exchange a few pleasantries in Creole/French and tout suite, we’re on our way!

The nighttime darkness that looms over Haiti is like none I’ve experienced before, only to be accented by candlelit stalls that line the streets.  Samuel takes us to a spot where they supposedly sell the best road-side chicken in Haiti which brings back memories of the vendor near *‘Topsy,’ back in the day.  *You may need to be Jamaican and born in the sixties to perhaps appreciate this one!

As we await this succulent chicken that slowly roasts, we’re STILL dancing in the streets.  Across from the chicken vendor is a stall that boasts some cocktails that I’d dare not even inquire as to their composition.  The one I taste echoes rum, passion fruit, ginger, cloves and several other things. 

Eventually we leave to return to our place of abode in Croix des Bouquets, the area that is renowned for its metal art in Haiti.  As we depart from this street corner, Samuel brings to my attention the graffiti that adorns the wall; paintings of Marley, Guevera, MLK Jr and Aristide!

Not wishing to share the tears that are streaming down my face, I hang my head out the window, ruminating on the week that it has been and the emotionally intense night I’ve had.  Sentimental yet melancholic, I am as humbled as I am proud of the tremendous feat of efforts and success stories of the GVN volunteers; past and present. 

In barely 3 months, from absolute ground zero, we have succeeded in building a community centre, treating over 300 patients in temporary health clinics that we’ve run at both our locations; Jacmel and Croix des Bouquets, we’ve taught hundreds of Haitians everything from art to yoga, we’ve collaborated with existing NGOs on the ground; both large and small and we’ve run feeding programmes.  We’ve shared everything we have and have received – from teddy bears to medicines.

ALL of that shared and said, nothing compares to the humility, love, gratitude and sheer joy that we’ve received in return. 

Perhaps it was our Australian pastor volunteer who said it best:

‘Thank you Haiti for reminding us of who we truly are’ – heart-filled human beings.

And so it is.

Namaste!