Yesterday I went running in the morning. The weather was really nice but to avoid mosquito bites I wore long pants and a bright orange T-shirt that I got from running a ½ Marathon in Philadelphia. It was amazing to run along the road and be surrounded by the mountains.
After I showered I met up with the rest of the group and we took a tour of the organization we were visiting – the MPP, the Peasant Movement of Papaye. I will do a full blog on this organization and their amazing work. As we were walking to see their 30,000 seed plant nursery, we passed a man and he was wearing the same tshirt that I had been wearing that morning. It was crazy to think that of the 2000 or so tshirts that were made for that race, there was a man in a small rural community of Haiti who was wearing that same shirt on the same day as me. It was a really small thing, but it reminded me how small the world is.
In some small way that tshirt made me feel connected. Now I am typing by the side of the road reminded of how much we have in common not only in the good, but the dark side of our human existence.
Last night I had the opportunity to check email and realized that I had gotten multiple emails about the murder of 17 year old black young man named Trayvon Martin. He was walking home from getting candy for a younger sibling and ended up being shot by a man who was part of the “neighborhood watch.” Despite witness accounts that the shooting was unprovoked, and despite the fact that Trayvon was unarmed, the man who shot him was not arrested.
Right now we are in Thomonde, Haiti and our bus cannot move because people in this city have decided to blockade the road until the police arrest the man who killed a young person named Wendy. They gave an ultimatum 48 hours ago and when it was not met, they took over the road that is our only way of getting to the community of Corail.
Because we are Americans, the United Nations just arrived to ensure our safe passage. We cannot see what is happening in the town but I pray that no violence is happening on my behalf. I cannot see the people but I can imagine that this community is not altogether different from my own. I can imagine that people are tired of being ignored about so many things, including the senseless killing of a young person.
As we are passing through, I see so many people who could live where I grew up. Except for the fact that some of them are wearing Yankees gear (which would not be tolerated in Boston), there are people who look like my friends. We just passed a young man with a shirt that says, First Haitian Church in Brockton and my heart feels even more connected.
Right now I am working to hide my tears from my fellow travelers. I am sad and I am angry. I am angry because anywhere you go in the world the life of Black people, the life of poor people and particularly the life of poor Black people is the least valued.
I would love to write some deep analysis of this, but the bottom line is that the life of my people means so little worldwide and right now I cannot be intellectual about it because I am just angry. Years of running a non-profit have taught me to be “level-headed” and “strategic” but right now I am actually happy that I have not lost my capacity for rage. Some things are just wrong and while I would love to believe that these things will change through reasonable, peaceful dialogue. I fear that things will not improve until more communities take to the streets and take over the streets.
So we are running pretty late to our destination, but I am grateful because I feel more alive and more connected. From Sanders, Florida to Thomonde, Haiti – we are connected in our struggle for justice for both Wendy and Treyvon. We must demand that the lives of our people and the lives of all people be sacred – this it the first level of the justice I am working for. While I am certainly glad that our truck was not hit, I do feel just a portion of the rage of the young men that were throwing the rocks. The struggle continues.
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