dame un peso?

“Poverty exists. That it exists, that it persists, in the 21st century, is an obscenity! We want to end this poverty. We want to make poverty history… The we who sees poverty is also the we who acts upon poverty. We are all part of global poverty action. We are the millennials and we are on a mission to make poverty history.”

~ Professor Ananya Roy, University of California, Berkeley

So, I’ve been working in a wannabe bohemian café here in San Cristobal just off the main tourist drag, a stone’s throw from the city center that witnessed the Zapatista Revolution of the 1990s. As I listen to catchy, suave jazz and casually sip my 3$USD cappuchino and type on my absurdly overpriced Macintosh laptop, I am frequently obliged to lift my gaze from the screen to meet the eyes of a young girl selling small clay creatures, brightly colored woven bracelets, or shimmering scarves. By young, I mean 3 to 16 years old. These girls wander up and down the boulevard, stopping in restaurants, bookstores, and souvenir shops, offering goods to unsuspecting tourists. Sometimes, the very young children simply put out an open hand and say in a disarmingly charming voice, “Dame un peso?”

For a number of reasons, my natural proclivity is toward a polite but firm, “No, gracias.” After all, if the Global Poverty minor at Berkeley has taught me anything, it is that a one-off handout is really doing more harm than good. It simply further perpetuates my position as a relatively well to do American capable of doling out cash to the poor homeless of Mexico. Giving money out is a handout, not a handup, and is a band aid solution to the structural problem of economic insecurity, homelessness, political disempowerment, and gender inequality. Handing over my pesos would be an escape from real, meaningful work like I’m doing for the Pachamama Project where my group is attempting to understand and address water, sanitation, and hygiene related barriers to girl’s education in Latin America. So, I am justified in saying no. Right?

Well, not really. The irony has not escaped me that, here I am in Mexico reading documents about the gendered realization of human rights for education, jobs, and other opportunity and working on the front lines of these issues that I am so passionate about, and unable to cough up the equivalent of $.20 for a hungry looking girl. Part of me part feels like I’ve explained away my rationale for not giving out money (see above), and the other part just feels like an insensitive asshole. I am torn between my gut reaction to give – my parents will often have dollar bills on hand when visiting me in Berkeley to give to homeless men and women on Shattuck just a block from where I live in a massive 19th century mansion – and my education which has apparently ingrained a deep critique of ‘charity’ as opposed to real change. Yet, I am not absolved; I remain deeply conflicted about my privileged position here as an advocate, researcher, and public service leader.

lo que encontré.

From June 10: The first convening of the Water Committee.

It is difficult to convey the gravitas of this day and this meeting in a post, but I will try. We, the Cántaro Azul team, rose early, still groggy from the previous late night of reading, eyes sore from hours staring at computer screens while collaboratively working on documents for our project.

The closest safe water kiosk to San Cristobal is in a federal land reserve called La Albarrada (L.A.). This land, established within the community of Maria Auxiliadora, is used for organic farming (the fruits and vegetables are sold at affordable prices to the residents), conferences, leadership and youth workshops, aquaculture, and community building meetings. The kiosk was installed in partnership with the United Nations and World Health Organization as a way to promote safe water consumption in the area, which despite relatively high incomes suffers from one of the highest occurrence of childhood mortality from water borne illness in the country.

Upon arrival at the meeting space in L.A., we shifted the chairs into a circular formation, instead of in rows all facing the screen in front. The committee consisted of six men and three women, each of whom worked at L.A. in some capacity – Julia* serves as the secretary for the Committee and is the cook for the grounds, Rosa is the President and is a local doctor, Diego is a groundskeeper and serves as the Treasurer. To get started, each person introduced themselves and their title and role within the group. The atmosphere was relaxed as the Cántaro Azul team began their presentation, which was about a funding plan to buy a tricycle to improve delivery and service of the safe water garrafones, the ubiquitous blue jugs for water here. Makeda presented on the health aspects of safe water and Veronica discussed the quantitative aspects of the kiosk and trends for sales of the water.

By the time we asked for commentary, however, the tone had changed – people were now starting to point fingers, tempers stirred, wild hand gestures abound. Suddenly, the socio-economic stratifications that were before rendered invisible by the appearance of a unified committee became apparent. The lines were clearly drawn – the doctora and administrative staff versus the cook and service and maintenance oriented workers. The different positions within the committee and varying degrees of power resulted in vast gaps in levels of information that each person came in with and left palpable tensions drifting around the room. I tried to pay attention to who was not speaking and why that might be, but found that taking notes, paying attention to what was being said (the speed of Spanish was just exceeding my comprehension) and how it was said, and processing the moment was a difficult balance.

Finally, an older man with a command of the situation and respect from the members on the committee spoke. He conveyed the need for the team to move past these divisions, because clean water is for the health of all in the community, not just the few here debating. Protecting and treating drinking water is the lifeblood of a community – everyone is put at risk if the people here do not do their jobs. Delivering clean water is delivering life, he said. This is our responsibility.

People shifted uncomfortably in their seats. This is now one and a half hours in, and Ale, the Fundación Cántaro Azul field director here, added that winning confidence and gaining the trust of the community is critical if the committee wants to be more than just a safe water kiosk, but evolve into a center for community based health and nutrition. The question of capacity, responsibility, and delegation is inherently connected to hierarchy issues within the committee.

Without provocation, several members began abdicating their leadership roles. The Cántaro Azul team and I exchanged silent, panicked glances. Ale finally interjected and pointed out that the purpose of this meeting was not for people to abandon their responsibilities, but rather address and determine how to overcome their challenges. People grudgingly agreed and proceeded. Being present for these visceral, personal commentaries made me feel like I was bearing witness to a clandestine clash of minds, the combustions of personalities creating cracks in any faint hope for progress.

By now, three hours had passed and it was time for the committee to confer about the tricycle plan. We stepped outside to make space for open debate among the members. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Then thirty. I was more anxious than I let on – what if the committee was dissolving as we exchanged small talk? What if the members were serious about stepping down?

When we re-entered the room, we were surprised and relieved to hear that the committee had agreed on the three month plan for buying the tricycle. Later in the week, we would also find that the members had settled their differences and everyone had agreed to re-affirm their responsibility to the committee and community. I do not expect that this is the end of the challenges that the group faces, but rather that by acknowledging difficulties and barriers to communication the group will be better equipped to confront and overcome in the future.

To intentionally mis-appropriate a quote from Robert Bresson, I see our roles as development practitioners not to ‘fix’ things but rather to “make visible what, without [us], might perhaps have never been seen.” Reading various recent policy documents and statements by NGOs/non-profits/government organizations reminds me of just how romanticized development policy remains today; to me, it reflects the great distance between Washington, DC and other loci for development expertise and the developing world that these public servants intend to serve. I do not mean to disparage the good people who could certainly be making more money working in the private sector; I admire and respect people who dedicate their lives to the complex task of alleviating poverty, hunger, ill health, education disparities, and environmental degradation. However, without field experience to supplement abstract policy-making processes, many practitioners are alienated from the micro-interactions that constitute real progress, improved health and wellbeing, and community building.

*All names were changed out of respect for the privacy of the people on the Committee

en la realidad.

I thrive in academic settings. The concretely defined tasks outlined by syllabi, office hours to clear up confusion from dense readings, clear assignment deadlines, and exam dates, while overwhelming at times because I am involved in many projects outside of academic pursuits, it all serves to keep me ‘on track.’ My classes at Berkeley stimulate my intellectual appetite, and my accomplished professors motivate my commitment to academic achievement.

However, I am not good with uncertainty, the exact kind of uncertainty I am facing in Mexico and will similarly confront in Bolivia. Academia has little uncertainty – the hoops needed to jump through to do well in classes are clear. Even my advocacy, teaching, and other work in Berkeley is fairly straightforward. But then the concrete tasks outlined in the grant proposals for my water, sanitation, hygiene, and education projects become less and less certain as various roadblocks present themselves – the manufacturer of the water treatment systems is incommunicado; the government support of the project falls through; the schools are intimidated by local politicians and withdraw from the program. None of these things have happened this trip (yet), but have in the past and could well repeat themselves this summer.

From what I can tell thus far, the best way to deal with uncertainty is head on: acknowledge and identify the unknowns, and seek to make them known. This involves accepting a degree of ignorance and adopting a deep sense of humility and some degree of dependency on those around you. In academia, it is a calamity to admit a lack of expertise; scholars must present a facade of knowledge, especially given the current trends toward interdisciplinary work (something I wholeheartedly support, but also realize the drawbacks of the trend toward generalism). Here, developing strong partnerships, listening to others, and connecting with uncommon allies not only reduces uncertainty but becomes the basis for effective, lasting improvements in water, sanitation, and hygiene availability.

taking the pulse of the city through street art.

I am a big believer in the power of art to tell a story, or multiple stories all at once – all forms of art in all mediums have great transformational potential and power. Dynamic arts like story telling, folklore, dance, and music; and the more permanent visual arts like painting, sculpture, and graffiti. Graffiti? Though mostly considered a reviled nuisance and the cause of destruction of private property in the United States, here, graffiti is a constant; it blends in seamlessly with the colorful painted houses, it peeks out curiously in the most remote rural areas, it complements the contours of the most revered cathedrals. It tells a complex story of the pains and triumphs of San Cristobal. The following quotations are from street artist and political thinker Banksy, and the art is from every corner of the city.

The greatest crimes in the world are not committed by people breaking the rules but by people following the rules. It’s people who follow orders that drop bombs and massacre villages.

 Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.

A wall is a very big weapon. It’s one of the nastiest things you can hit someone with.

Nothing in the world is more common than unsuccessful people with talent, leave the house before you find something worth staying in for.

Some people become cops because they want to make the world a better place. Some people become vandals because they want to make the world a better looking place.

A lot of mothers will do anything for their children, except let them be themselves.

There’s nothing more dangerous than someone who wants to make the world a better place.

I’ve been there.

Our team in Chiapas is diverse in every sense of the word – we each have different majors, come from different cities, represent multiple ethnicities, have collectively been to over fifty countries and speak four languages; we are only united by our passion for social change and the university we attend. As the days pass by, I’ve found something else that draws us together: uncertainty for our futures. Two of us have graduated, two of us have a year left, and two are about to start their junior year. As we spend more and more time together, we open up and express our fears for what is to come. I’ve found that learning to trust others is a sign of strength, and using your creative energies to support those you care about is  powerful. Of the boundless wisdom I absorbed from the West Wing, the story below is one I like to share during times like these to express the importance of not trying to go at it alone. Suerte.

~

This guy is walking down the street when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep he can’t get out. A doctor passes by and the guy shouts up, ‘Hey you. Can you help me out?’ The doctor writes a prescription, throws it down in the hole and moves on.

Then a priest comes along and the guy shouts up, ‘Father, I’m down in this hole can you help me out?’ The priest writes out a prayer, throws it down in the hole and moves on.

Then a friend walks by, ‘Hey, Joe, it’s me can you help me out?’ And the friend jumps in the hole. Our guy says, ‘Are you stupid? Now we’re both down here.’ The friend says, ‘Yeah, but I’ve been down here before, and I know the way out.’

24 hours in photos.

Leaving home in Los Angeles for the airport with my pack, prepared for three months between Mexico, Bolivia, and Colombia. As usual, the last few hours before departure were an exciting (read: panicked, stressful) attempt to do all of the packing that I should have done over the last few days.

Travel was smooth, and we arrived at the Tuxtla airport without trouble. Our first nights dinner at my favorite Zapatista cooperative café with the rest of the students was relaxing and filled with tales of their work thus far.

The next morning (today, Saturday), we were off to the caves of the Actotete eco reserve for some refreshing time in nature.

I finally gave in to the lures of zip lining due to the incredibly low price ($10 USD!) and amazing setting – a deep river valley.

Our first night on the town – the red lights in front of houses signify homes that sell delicious, cheap ($.75 USD equivalent) tamales.

Then the rain really picked up and the flooding began immediately. Even though Chiapas is one of the richest states in Mexico, the infrastructure and sanitation planning has not yet caught up.

We persevered and made it out to the Foro Cultural Kinoki in San Cristobal, a favorite place of mine when I was here in March. Locals and travelers alike enjoy tea fusions, almond milk smoothies, and a variety of foreign films shown throughout the day. We opted to watch Zapatista: Crónica de una Rebelión, a 2007 documentary film with original footage beginning with the 1994 uprisings.

The film impacted me on many levels, and served as an important check on my confidence about the history of Chiapas & San Cristobal, and the Zapatista movement. While I was fairly emotionally drained after almost two hours of brutal footage of the decade of bloody conflict between indigenous groups here in Chiapas and the Mexican government, I was also inspired and heartened by the small victories and points of progress made.

context.

In order to contextualize some of the work I am doing on water, sanitation, hygiene, and education this summer, this is an op-ed that originally appears in Berkeley’s Daily Californian newspaper (http://www.dailycal.org/2013/05/13/water-rights/). This is the 10,000 foot view of an issue that deserves much more location, economic, and culturally specific information and data, but provides a (hopefully) useful overview of the very complex issues of water.

WATER RIGHTS

The lack of access to water in unstable developing countries is an international security threat. Although the United Nations declared 2013 as the “International Year of Water Cooperation,” solutions to international water issues will not be met unless the global north directs foreign aid dollars to improve reliable access to water, sanitation, and hygiene. Contrary to persistent beliefs, such aid has substantial international security bases.

Aid systems and development policy must support a system that is responsive to complex community-level needs because the labyrinth of water, sanitation and hygiene issues exists at the confluence of health, education and equity problems. Root causes of global economic and political instability are linked to poverty, inequality and unemployment. The rapid rise in global poverty has accompanied the rise of international security threats since the Cold War, according to anthropologist of development professor Akhil Gupta of the University of California, Los Angeles. Achieving human security in developing countries is paramount for reducing international security threats and goes beyond simply the absence of violent conflict — it means establishing basic access to essential services like water, sanitation and hygiene. The many competing human uses for water — personal consumption, agriculture, industry, and sanitation systems — combined with the lack of sufficient infrastructure in developing countries means that natural water systems (rivers, aquifers, streams and rainfall) cannot be abstracted from discussions of human and international security.

The 2006 United Nations Human Development Report found that people suffering from waterborne illnesses occupy over half of all hospital beds globally. Pathogens from dirty water result in diarrhea which still remains the leading killer of children younger than 5 years old — 1.8 million a year, or about 4,900 per day. Water-related illness alone causes 443 million missed school days per year. This means that for other development improvements to be met — including improving universal achievement of primary education, reducing child mortality, improving maternal health and eradicating extreme poverty and hunger – water, sanitation, and hygiene must be prioritized in the global policy and aid agenda.

While empirical data regarding the impact of aid on economic growth is mixed, the overall positive effects of aid specifically directed to the water sector are clear. A 2010 article in the Journal of Global Health used a country-level analysis to determine the relationship between official development assistance and improvements in access to water and sanitation. The results of this inquiry into aid effectiveness since the establishment of the Millennium Development Goals in 2000 shows that countries receiving official assistance are 4 to 18 times more likely to have access to improved water supply than countries without assistance. Furthermore, countries with the greatest gains in sanitation were up to nine times as likely to have greater reductions in infant and child mortality.

Although aid is not a panacea for the many complex problems plaguing developing countries, cutting aid for water and sanitation programs would cause significant harm. As the United Nations Security Council suggests, water security takes on a double meaning: It describes both sustainable access to the resource, and the absence of water as a contributor to conflict. Although the global community met the Millennium Development Goal target for safe drinking water, the World Health Organization found that 800 million people are still without clean water and 2 billion without basic sanitation. The momentum to increase access to safe drinking water and improve sanitation in water stressed countries cannot be lost now.

According to Stratfor, a global intelligence agency, Egypt has renewed threats to militarily engage in the event that Ethiopia continues plans to build a dam on the Nile. This example is an indicator for a larger looming security crisis according to former secretary of state Hillary Clinton, who conveyed the findings of a Defense Intelligence Agency report this September at the United Nations roundtable on water security. Clinton warned that “demand for water will go up, but our fresh water supplies will not keep pace,” increasing the threat of instability within and between states.

Criticism about the infusion of aid to the transitional governments in the unstable regions is not unfounded, but reducing or blocking aid to water stressed countries could heighten tensions rooted in anxiety over reliable access to water. Middle Eastern and North African countries continue to be the worst off in terms of human and economic development indicators, including access to water and sanitation. USAID recently reported that only 27 percent of Afghanis have access to safe drinking water, and 12 percent to adequate sanitation, while two-thirds of water is lost through decrepit infrastructure. Aid directed at improving infrastructure in neglected areas for water and sanitation could significantly improve health, education and human security in such regions.

The BBC estimates that for developed countries and Brazil, Russia, India and China alone, “$800 billion per year will be required by 2015 to cover investments in water infrastructure, a target likely to go unmet.” According to a recent Guardian Global Development article, the developing world will be home to 29 megacities with more than 10 million residents by 2025; therefore, improving infrastructure in these areas to meet the growing demand for water will be crucial. As rainfall becomes more unpredictable and devastating floods continue as a consequence of global climate change, directed aid could reduce conflict in water-stressed countries that are politically and economically volatile.

There are many ways that Cal students can engage with critical water issues. UC Berkeley is transforming into a hub for water-based community engaged research, advocacy, and activism. A number of DeCals all offer opportunities for students. The Berkeley Water Group is a student-driven think tank and research collaborative aiming to nurture ideas and innovation. Many research opportunities, particularly though the Undergraduate Research Apprenticeship program, are beginning to focus more water, health and environmental issues.

Whether students work domestically or abroad on water issues, any solutions must be tied to the environmental, economic, social and cultural realities.

In a world with more cell-phones than toilets, improving access to safe water, sanitation, and hygiene is both a strategic investment and a moral imperative. The post-9/11 world forces a re-examination of the relationship between human security and global poverty. Development policy changes in the global north, rather than charity, that prioritize water, sanitation and hygiene will contribute to healthy people, thriving ecosystems and sustainable economies in the future. International security necessitates meeting the basic needs of those in developing countries, especially the most basic resource to sustain life: water.