On Sunday, I put my music in a backpack and headed off to church. I gave myself almost an hour and a half to get there because... well... walking tourists are easily distracted!
As I walked down Linden Avenue, I noticed a large, hand-painted sign stuck in a lawn in front of a house. "Stop the war" was written on it in red lettering. It was a sturdy sign and I hoped that many people saw that message, as they traveled on Linden Avenue.
I then turned down Colvin Avenue and passed the fire house, walked under the railroad bridge, crossed Amherst Street on what looked like a brand-new crosswalk, and entered Delaware Park. I had to walk around a little bitty fence. But walking around fences is one of my talents! I have managed to walk around and crawl under a variety of fences, either to prove a point (at Fort Benning, for example) or to have an adventure.
Delaware Park was full of people enjoying the pleasurable weather of late spring. Contrary to public opinion, it doesn't snow in Buffalo 365 days of the year! Um. And it's not true that the only two seasons in Buffalo are Winter and the Fourth of July! But I digress.
In the park, I saw people walking, jogging, riding in-line skates, riding bicycles, playing tennis, and walking dogs. Some men were getting ready for a baseball game. They were all indulging in batting practice, each one swinging bats at nothing, as no one was pitching. I walked around part of the walking path that goes around baseball diamonds, tennis courts, and a golf course. Then I headed to the bridge that would take me over Delaware Avenue. I did so without hesitation, even though it was a windy day and I'm afraid of heights.
A man was walking ahead of me. He was already on the bridge. I followed him. If he's not scared to walk over the bridge, I won't be scared, either. Eeek. It's really high up. No it's not. That's just my overly active imagination taking charge. But still. I don't like bridges. OK, I won't look down. I discovered that I was walking faster and faster and faster. My goal was to reach the speed limit sign. I can do that. Oh my, I'm starting to sound like the Little Engine that Could.
Sure enough, I reached the speed limit sign and walked down the stairs and under the bridge. Over and under in one trip. I then headed off to the other side of Delaware Park. Delaware Park was the crown jewel of the Buffalo Park System designed by Frederick Law Olmsted. A number of years ago, the Scajaquada expressway was built, and that expressway divided the park in half. Why anyone would divide a park in half with an expressway is a mystery to me. But that's what happened. I don't like it, but it can't be undone. I don't think.
In the park, the first thing that I noticed was that the crab apples were starting to grow. Mmmm, crab apples. In the fall, I will have a feast every time that I walk through the park. I remembered that, when I was in the federal prison camp in Danbury, I used to pick crab apples from the trees and eat them up at once. I did that until the geese got aggressive and started protecting their supply of the crab apples that had fallen beneath the trees. They hissed and threatened to bite when I went under the trees. I picked apples fast and returned to my Big Government Job... environmental improvement engineer! (picking up litter)
I hope that Delaware Park doesn't fill up with aggressive geese this fall!
I continued to walk and headed to the path that takes me past Hoyt Lake. The area was full of life and color... purples, yellows, lavenders, pale blues, pinks, reds, many shades of green... As I fingered a primrose, a dog and human approached me. The human told me that the golden retriever's name was Molly and that she was a very sociable dog. She looked at me with happy anticipation, and I immediately began to pet her. She stood and enjoyed the massage that I gave her.
Soon, it was time to continue on my way. I thought that I would take a look at the rose garden. It was in full bloom, with purple, red, pink, white, and yellow roses in a variety of beds. I took photographs and then walked toward the Albright-Knox Art Gallery. Crossing the street there is a bit of an adventure in mind reading. One never knows if the drivers are going to think that the stop sign really means something or if it's nothing more than some sort of bizarre decoration on the side of the road. When the first driver went past the stop sign without even pretending to slow down, much less stop, I knew that I had to be either careful, fast, or both in getting across the street. Fortunately, a polite driver stopped and motioned me to go, which I did.
I walked past the art gallery and soon found myself on Elmwood Avenue. This is where I could really indulge in window shopping. Lots of store windows with many colorful things inside beckoned me to stop and look. There were clothing, toys, books, paintings... many attractive things to see. There was also too much litter on the street. I have disliked litter since I was eight years old, which was... um... a long time ago! Some of the trees were surrounded by a large display of weeds, while other trees were surrounded by attractive perennials. I also saw big flowers, colorful ground cover, and large stone planters in front of businesses and houses. It wasn't all a peaceful, calm Sunday stroll, however. An ambulance screeched to a stop in front of a house, followed by a fire truck, even though I could see no evidence of a fire.
I had to keep going, despite my overwhelming curiousity to find out why the ambulance and fire truck were both in front of a house that was most definitely not on fire.
As I walked down Highland Avenue, I saw a cat sitting on a porch. The cat saw me and walked right to me. It was a small black and white cat with long fur.
"meow."
"Hi cat." I began to pet the cat. It rolled on the ground, catching twigs and dust in its fur.
I failed to resume petting the cat.
"MEOW!"
I petted the cat, who continued to roll on the ground.
I was late to the pre-church practice. I had to keep going.
"MEOW!
"Sorry, cat. It's time to go." So I went and the cat stayed on the lawn near the sidewalk, rolling happily and collecting more twigs and dust in its fur.
I arrived at Blessed Sacrament Church, ready to sing... and sure enough, that's exactly what I did.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Wednesday, June 7, 2006
Niagara County Adventures
On Monday morning, I went to my friend Jinni's house for a "working visit." Jinni is a professional artist and art teacher. Her specialty is watercolor paints. She makes large painting with lots of bright, cheerful colors. It is a delight to watch her paint. As a teacher, Jinni is enthusiastic and always encouraging. She has positive comments to make about all of her students' paintings, regardless of whether they are beginner or advanced painters.
On our way to Jinni's house, we stopped at the house of a man who works as a nurse during the night and grows and sells plants during the day. He is always friendly and has a big smile. His display cases are full of plants, mostly of impatiens of nearly every hue, although pinks and purples and whites seem to predominate. He had run out of certain flowers, including portulacas and snapdragons. Spring came early this year, the man explained, and these plants were completely sold out. Jinni and I selected a variety of plants to put into containers around her garden. The price was very reasonable, and the man gave us one extra plant just to take along with us.
At Jinni's house, we got to work on the gardening tasks. Jinni arranged her flowers in a bunch of containers, and I started to weed the flower beds. I took a brief break to do a radio interview with Joe Schmidbauer and Grady Hawkins, who have a daily program called "The Voice of Reason" on "Newstalk 1270." The topic was the bill before Congress to suspend operations and investigate the instruction offered at the Western Hemisphere of Security Cooperation (formerly known as the School of the Americas). The bill, HR 1217, is called the Latin American Military Training Review Act of 2005. It was introduced by Rep. Jim McGovern (D-Mass.) and has 133 cosponsors. I talked for about five minutes and encouraged people to call their Congressional representatives to ask them to vote for this piece of legislation. Then I went back to my weeding activities.
It was midday, and the sun was straight overhead. After about four hours, I had finished weeding all of the flower beds in the front yard. I had also weeded underneath the large tree in front of the house.
It was time to change activities. We got in the car and started on our next adventure. Not too far away from Jinni's house, we saw a bunch of cars and vans stopped by the side of the road. People were standing around something, but at first, we couldn't see what it was. When we got closer, we saw that a car was in a ditch. The passenger door was open and was facing the sky. The people seemed to be trying to get someone out of the car. No rescue vehicles or police were anywhere in sight. There was nothing we could do so we drove past this bizarre spectacle. We then went to a Chinese restaurant, where we had an early dinner with our friend, Barbara. A woman, Iris, approached me at the restaurant. She had heard me speak on the radio. I hope that she called her Congressional representative.
After dinner, we went to North Tonawanda, where we were planning to meet up with a group of artists to have an outdoors painting session. North Tonawanda and the City of Tonawanda are considered to be "twin cities." They sit on either side of the Erie Canal. North Tonawanda is on the Niagara County side, and the City of Tonawanda is on the Erie County side. We were headed to the Gateway Park, on the canal. It is a good spot for taking walks, bicycle rides, boat rides, and painting.
We had arrived early, ahead of the other artists. We left the car in North Tonawanda and walked over the bridge to a McDonald's in the City of Tonawanda. The McDonald's was sparsely populated. Jinni bought a beverage and we sat down at a table. A man sat alone at a table nearby. Another man walked by us. He was tall, big boned, and had long, blond hair. He had a collection of tattoes and a tiny beard. He also had a big, energetic voice.
"How are you doing?" he asked.
"Fine," Jinni said.
It turned out that he was speaking to the man at the other table. The two of them began talking about catching large fish. The blond man's name was Spike and the man at the table was named John. John described a sturgeon that he had caught. It weighed eighty pounds and was THIS BIG! Spike had to go order something. At the same time, Jinni also needed to get something. John continued to tell me about his big fish.
Jinni and Spike returned at the same time. Jinni finished her beverage, and we left to look for the other artists. We eventually found them on the Tonawanda side of the canal. The artists had brought along a tablecloth, popcorn, cookies, beverages, and cups. They had transformed a picnic table into a party table. Including Jinni and me, there were six artists in the group. Before long, we had placed our chairs so that we could face the scenes that we wanted to depict in our paintings. We began to draw. Jinni and I started to work at once. Jinni is a very fast artist. She sketched in a scene of water and buildings on the far side of the canal and was soon happily painting. I am a much slower artists. I started to draw the Long Homestead, with its many windows and doors. I drew and drew and drew... stairs... banisters... shrubs... bushes... and, every now and then, I could hear snippets of conversation from the other artists, who were bunched as a group and were facing the canal.
It seemed like almost no time before the sun was ready to go down, and we were ready to leave. I never painted anything as I had spent so much time sketching. The group of talkers commented that they got very little drawing or painting done in the time allotted.
The group made plans to meet at the house of one of the conversational artists. I've never been to her house but I was told that it is in a scenic area, and there is much to draw and paint there. Also, this artist is a great hostess, and everyone loves going to her house.
As Jinni and I walked to her car, we saw a dog standing near a car. The dog had giant ears and looked like a happy, well-contented dog. We both wished that would could paint a portrait of this dog.
I slept in Jinni's studio. It was full of bright colors... Jinni's paintings on the wall and several Japanese lanterns in the window.
On Tuesday morning, I took a walk in the park across the street from the house that Jinni and her husband Howard live in. The park is called Fairmount Park. It is a fairly small park with a pond, baseball diamonds, a walking track, and a basketball court. People were busily working on lawn maintenance. They were using riding lawnmowers and weed whackers.
In the middle of the park is a small cemetery. It has only about five graves in it. All of the deceased were members of the Stieg family. Some of the markers had faded to the point where they were hard to read. The one in the center was the largest one. The individual buried in that grave had lived and died in the nineteenth century.
I had brought a sketchbook and a permanent marker. Jinni had recommended the permanent marker. She said that sketching with something that can't be erased helps an artist/student artist to think. I sketched several pictures, one of a picnic shelter, one of part of a basketball court, and the third of geese in the pond.
After visiting the park, I returned to Jinni's house, where I continued weeding, this time in the back yard. Before long, Howard came home from work for a lunch break. He said that he was very happy about all of the weeding that had been done. After lunch, Howard returned to work, and Jinni and I went to a church in Pendleton, the Pendleton Center United Methodist Church, where Jinni taught an art class. We made paintings of scenes that included Japanese lanterns. Jinni had brought pictures with lanterns as well as a few lanterns from her window.
We drew and painted and talked. As usual, I spent all of my time sketching and none of my time painting. I had a large piece of watercolor paper and I was determined to fill every inch of it. I didn't quite succeed in doing that, but I did manage to make a large picture.
We stopped the art class early to have a little party for Peggy, who had worked for the past fifteen years for the church. Her job involved cleanup and maintenance mostly. The church had grown and the workload had also grown. Peggy also works at the homes of elderly people, helping them with chores that they can no longer do. The party was a big surprise for Peggy, and she seemed very happy with the food and the gifts. One of the gifts was a quilt that had been made by people in the sewing class and was signed by some of the sewers and artists who had become friends with Peggy.
Peggy talked about some of her upcoming plans. She and her husband were going to take a vacation in Maine within the next few weeks. In the autumn, she was planning on going to Nicaragua to bring some clothing and other things to donate. She has been traveling to Nicaragua with a nun from Buffalo for several years. Peggy calls it her "mission."
After the party, Jinni took me back home and thus ended my Niagara County adventure.
On our way to Jinni's house, we stopped at the house of a man who works as a nurse during the night and grows and sells plants during the day. He is always friendly and has a big smile. His display cases are full of plants, mostly of impatiens of nearly every hue, although pinks and purples and whites seem to predominate. He had run out of certain flowers, including portulacas and snapdragons. Spring came early this year, the man explained, and these plants were completely sold out. Jinni and I selected a variety of plants to put into containers around her garden. The price was very reasonable, and the man gave us one extra plant just to take along with us.
At Jinni's house, we got to work on the gardening tasks. Jinni arranged her flowers in a bunch of containers, and I started to weed the flower beds. I took a brief break to do a radio interview with Joe Schmidbauer and Grady Hawkins, who have a daily program called "The Voice of Reason" on "Newstalk 1270." The topic was the bill before Congress to suspend operations and investigate the instruction offered at the Western Hemisphere of Security Cooperation (formerly known as the School of the Americas). The bill, HR 1217, is called the Latin American Military Training Review Act of 2005. It was introduced by Rep. Jim McGovern (D-Mass.) and has 133 cosponsors. I talked for about five minutes and encouraged people to call their Congressional representatives to ask them to vote for this piece of legislation. Then I went back to my weeding activities.
It was midday, and the sun was straight overhead. After about four hours, I had finished weeding all of the flower beds in the front yard. I had also weeded underneath the large tree in front of the house.
It was time to change activities. We got in the car and started on our next adventure. Not too far away from Jinni's house, we saw a bunch of cars and vans stopped by the side of the road. People were standing around something, but at first, we couldn't see what it was. When we got closer, we saw that a car was in a ditch. The passenger door was open and was facing the sky. The people seemed to be trying to get someone out of the car. No rescue vehicles or police were anywhere in sight. There was nothing we could do so we drove past this bizarre spectacle. We then went to a Chinese restaurant, where we had an early dinner with our friend, Barbara. A woman, Iris, approached me at the restaurant. She had heard me speak on the radio. I hope that she called her Congressional representative.
After dinner, we went to North Tonawanda, where we were planning to meet up with a group of artists to have an outdoors painting session. North Tonawanda and the City of Tonawanda are considered to be "twin cities." They sit on either side of the Erie Canal. North Tonawanda is on the Niagara County side, and the City of Tonawanda is on the Erie County side. We were headed to the Gateway Park, on the canal. It is a good spot for taking walks, bicycle rides, boat rides, and painting.
We had arrived early, ahead of the other artists. We left the car in North Tonawanda and walked over the bridge to a McDonald's in the City of Tonawanda. The McDonald's was sparsely populated. Jinni bought a beverage and we sat down at a table. A man sat alone at a table nearby. Another man walked by us. He was tall, big boned, and had long, blond hair. He had a collection of tattoes and a tiny beard. He also had a big, energetic voice.
"How are you doing?" he asked.
"Fine," Jinni said.
It turned out that he was speaking to the man at the other table. The two of them began talking about catching large fish. The blond man's name was Spike and the man at the table was named John. John described a sturgeon that he had caught. It weighed eighty pounds and was THIS BIG! Spike had to go order something. At the same time, Jinni also needed to get something. John continued to tell me about his big fish.
Jinni and Spike returned at the same time. Jinni finished her beverage, and we left to look for the other artists. We eventually found them on the Tonawanda side of the canal. The artists had brought along a tablecloth, popcorn, cookies, beverages, and cups. They had transformed a picnic table into a party table. Including Jinni and me, there were six artists in the group. Before long, we had placed our chairs so that we could face the scenes that we wanted to depict in our paintings. We began to draw. Jinni and I started to work at once. Jinni is a very fast artist. She sketched in a scene of water and buildings on the far side of the canal and was soon happily painting. I am a much slower artists. I started to draw the Long Homestead, with its many windows and doors. I drew and drew and drew... stairs... banisters... shrubs... bushes... and, every now and then, I could hear snippets of conversation from the other artists, who were bunched as a group and were facing the canal.
It seemed like almost no time before the sun was ready to go down, and we were ready to leave. I never painted anything as I had spent so much time sketching. The group of talkers commented that they got very little drawing or painting done in the time allotted.
The group made plans to meet at the house of one of the conversational artists. I've never been to her house but I was told that it is in a scenic area, and there is much to draw and paint there. Also, this artist is a great hostess, and everyone loves going to her house.
As Jinni and I walked to her car, we saw a dog standing near a car. The dog had giant ears and looked like a happy, well-contented dog. We both wished that would could paint a portrait of this dog.
I slept in Jinni's studio. It was full of bright colors... Jinni's paintings on the wall and several Japanese lanterns in the window.
On Tuesday morning, I took a walk in the park across the street from the house that Jinni and her husband Howard live in. The park is called Fairmount Park. It is a fairly small park with a pond, baseball diamonds, a walking track, and a basketball court. People were busily working on lawn maintenance. They were using riding lawnmowers and weed whackers.
In the middle of the park is a small cemetery. It has only about five graves in it. All of the deceased were members of the Stieg family. Some of the markers had faded to the point where they were hard to read. The one in the center was the largest one. The individual buried in that grave had lived and died in the nineteenth century.
I had brought a sketchbook and a permanent marker. Jinni had recommended the permanent marker. She said that sketching with something that can't be erased helps an artist/student artist to think. I sketched several pictures, one of a picnic shelter, one of part of a basketball court, and the third of geese in the pond.
After visiting the park, I returned to Jinni's house, where I continued weeding, this time in the back yard. Before long, Howard came home from work for a lunch break. He said that he was very happy about all of the weeding that had been done. After lunch, Howard returned to work, and Jinni and I went to a church in Pendleton, the Pendleton Center United Methodist Church, where Jinni taught an art class. We made paintings of scenes that included Japanese lanterns. Jinni had brought pictures with lanterns as well as a few lanterns from her window.
We drew and painted and talked. As usual, I spent all of my time sketching and none of my time painting. I had a large piece of watercolor paper and I was determined to fill every inch of it. I didn't quite succeed in doing that, but I did manage to make a large picture.
We stopped the art class early to have a little party for Peggy, who had worked for the past fifteen years for the church. Her job involved cleanup and maintenance mostly. The church had grown and the workload had also grown. Peggy also works at the homes of elderly people, helping them with chores that they can no longer do. The party was a big surprise for Peggy, and she seemed very happy with the food and the gifts. One of the gifts was a quilt that had been made by people in the sewing class and was signed by some of the sewers and artists who had become friends with Peggy.
Peggy talked about some of her upcoming plans. She and her husband were going to take a vacation in Maine within the next few weeks. In the autumn, she was planning on going to Nicaragua to bring some clothing and other things to donate. She has been traveling to Nicaragua with a nun from Buffalo for several years. Peggy calls it her "mission."
After the party, Jinni took me back home and thus ended my Niagara County adventure.
Thursday, June 1, 2006
fasting to remember torture victims
Today, the first of June, is the start of torture awareness month.
Torture is still practiced by governments around the world. It is brutal and horrifying. Torture leaves more scars than the ones that can be seen. People who survive torture always carry that experience with them. Some torture survivors are able to talk about their experiences, to tell the world that this practice must be ended forever. Carlos Mauricio is one of these individuals. In June 1983, Carlos was teaching science at the University of El Salvador when the police took him out of his classroom. He was held for two weeks and constantly interrogated and tortured. After his release, he fled to the United States. He now teaches science in a high school in California.
Carlos and two other torture survivors won a lawsuit against two Salvadoran generals, who had retired to Florida. They are Generals Jose Guillermo Garcia (minister of defense from 1979 to 1983) and Carlos Eugenio Vides Casanova (director-general of the Salvadoran National Guard and later minister of defense).
Read more about Carlos' story and his lawsuit at http://www.cja.org/forSurvivors/CarlosforSurvivors.shtml
Carlos has started a project, called the "Stop Impunity Coalition," to end torture throughout the world.
Another organization that tells the world that the practice of torture can never be tolerated is the Torture Awareness and Survivors Support Coalition International (see http://www.tassc.org). It is an organization that was founded for and by torture survivors. Its executive director, Sister Dianna Ortiz, is a torture survivor. A missionary teacher in Guatemala in 1989, Sister Dianna was kidnapped and brutally tortured by the military. She has told the story of her torture in a book, "The Blindfold's Eye" (published by Orbis Books in October 2002). TASSC International provides support and hope for torture survivors and their families.
I first met Sister Dianna in the fall of 1987, when we both were students at an Antigua, Guatemala, language school. I remembered Sister Dianna as a sweet, adventurous young lady with a delightful sense of humor. Years passed, and we did not meet again until the fall of 2005, in Washington, D.C. Sister Dianna's mission has changed, but she is still the sweet, kind individual I met in Guatemala in 1987.
There are so many others who have been tortured and who have been unable to tell their stories. Some were killed by their torturers. Others, unable to live with the physical pain and the emotional scars left by their torturers, committed suicide. Many survivors go about the business of every day life and keep their painful memories stored inside of themselves. It is too hard to talk about it. Sister Dianna said that retelling the story of one's torture means reliving that torture.
This is the month to remember all torture victims, both those who survived and those who did not. It is a time to remember survivors who are able to share their stories and those who walk in silence.
It is a time to remember that the United States, which claims to be the shining beacon of democracy, has been implicated for practicing torture. The events that occurred at Abu Ghraib are not isolated incidents. The United States has been accused of operating secret prisons all over the world. Allegedly, the sites for these prisons were in Egypt, Jordan, and Eastern Europe. For five years, the United States has operated a detention center at Guantanamo Bay. According to Amnesty International, detainees in Guantanamo, who are from 35 countries, have been held in a "legal black hole, without access to any court, legal counsel, or family visit."
Detainees allege that they have been subjected to torture and other cruel treatment.
The United Nations also has harsh words of criticism for the country that invaded Iraq to bring that nation democracy. The UN Committee Against Torture released a report on May 18, 2006, also criticized the United States for sanctioning the use of various torture techniques, including waterboarding and short shackling. You can read this eleven-page report at http://www.extras.timesonline.co.uk/un_report_190506.pdf
Amnesty International has called for the immediate closure of the Guantanamo Bay detention center. Amnesty International said, "Guantanamo Bay has become a symbol of injustice and abuse in the U.S. administration's 'war on terror.' It must be closed down."
How can the United States "spread democracy" while, at the same time, commit one human rights violation after another?
As a U.S. citizen, I ask my government to accept responsibility for its human rights violations.
One of the actions that I have chosen is to participate in a one-day fast, organized by TASSC International. It is a small sacrifice for people who have suffered so much.
Perhaps with enough attention, the practice of torture can be ended, forever.
Please join me.
Please check the TASSC International website to see what you can do to help end the practice of torture.
Torture is still practiced by governments around the world. It is brutal and horrifying. Torture leaves more scars than the ones that can be seen. People who survive torture always carry that experience with them. Some torture survivors are able to talk about their experiences, to tell the world that this practice must be ended forever. Carlos Mauricio is one of these individuals. In June 1983, Carlos was teaching science at the University of El Salvador when the police took him out of his classroom. He was held for two weeks and constantly interrogated and tortured. After his release, he fled to the United States. He now teaches science in a high school in California.
Carlos and two other torture survivors won a lawsuit against two Salvadoran generals, who had retired to Florida. They are Generals Jose Guillermo Garcia (minister of defense from 1979 to 1983) and Carlos Eugenio Vides Casanova (director-general of the Salvadoran National Guard and later minister of defense).
Read more about Carlos' story and his lawsuit at http://www.cja.org/forSurvivors/CarlosforSurvivors.shtml
Carlos has started a project, called the "Stop Impunity Coalition," to end torture throughout the world.
Another organization that tells the world that the practice of torture can never be tolerated is the Torture Awareness and Survivors Support Coalition International (see http://www.tassc.org). It is an organization that was founded for and by torture survivors. Its executive director, Sister Dianna Ortiz, is a torture survivor. A missionary teacher in Guatemala in 1989, Sister Dianna was kidnapped and brutally tortured by the military. She has told the story of her torture in a book, "The Blindfold's Eye" (published by Orbis Books in October 2002). TASSC International provides support and hope for torture survivors and their families.
I first met Sister Dianna in the fall of 1987, when we both were students at an Antigua, Guatemala, language school. I remembered Sister Dianna as a sweet, adventurous young lady with a delightful sense of humor. Years passed, and we did not meet again until the fall of 2005, in Washington, D.C. Sister Dianna's mission has changed, but she is still the sweet, kind individual I met in Guatemala in 1987.
There are so many others who have been tortured and who have been unable to tell their stories. Some were killed by their torturers. Others, unable to live with the physical pain and the emotional scars left by their torturers, committed suicide. Many survivors go about the business of every day life and keep their painful memories stored inside of themselves. It is too hard to talk about it. Sister Dianna said that retelling the story of one's torture means reliving that torture.
This is the month to remember all torture victims, both those who survived and those who did not. It is a time to remember survivors who are able to share their stories and those who walk in silence.
It is a time to remember that the United States, which claims to be the shining beacon of democracy, has been implicated for practicing torture. The events that occurred at Abu Ghraib are not isolated incidents. The United States has been accused of operating secret prisons all over the world. Allegedly, the sites for these prisons were in Egypt, Jordan, and Eastern Europe. For five years, the United States has operated a detention center at Guantanamo Bay. According to Amnesty International, detainees in Guantanamo, who are from 35 countries, have been held in a "legal black hole, without access to any court, legal counsel, or family visit."
Detainees allege that they have been subjected to torture and other cruel treatment.
The United Nations also has harsh words of criticism for the country that invaded Iraq to bring that nation democracy. The UN Committee Against Torture released a report on May 18, 2006, also criticized the United States for sanctioning the use of various torture techniques, including waterboarding and short shackling. You can read this eleven-page report at http://www.extras.timesonline.co.uk/un_report_190506.pdf
Amnesty International has called for the immediate closure of the Guantanamo Bay detention center. Amnesty International said, "Guantanamo Bay has become a symbol of injustice and abuse in the U.S. administration's 'war on terror.' It must be closed down."
How can the United States "spread democracy" while, at the same time, commit one human rights violation after another?
As a U.S. citizen, I ask my government to accept responsibility for its human rights violations.
One of the actions that I have chosen is to participate in a one-day fast, organized by TASSC International. It is a small sacrifice for people who have suffered so much.
Perhaps with enough attention, the practice of torture can be ended, forever.
Please join me.
Please check the TASSC International website to see what you can do to help end the practice of torture.
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