Courtesy of Henry Ford Museum

This article appeared in the Huffington Post on Tuesday, April 17.

The Titanic has long held a prominent place in the human imagination and commemorations abound during this year’s 100^th anniversary of its sinking.

Among them is Titanic: The Artifact Exhibition hosted by the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan.  Similar exhibitions are also appearing in Atlanta, Houston, Kansas City, Las Vegas, Orlando and San Diego with upcoming shows scheduled in Columbia, SC, St. Petersburg, FL and Philadelphia.

The 10,000 square foot exhibition reflects the size and grandeur of the world’s largest and most luxurious ship of its time.  Room re-creations of a first class hallway and cabin as well as a full-scale replica of the Grand Staircase reveal the ship’s splendor while the passengers’ accommodations, menus, china, even the recovered tile floors of the bathrooms illustrate the attention given to social class distinctions in Edwardian England.

First Class Cabin -- Courtesy of Henry Ford Museum

“The ship is like a palace,” says Hugh Woolner, first class passenger in one of many quotes highlighted on the walls of the exhibit.  “My cabin is ripping.  Hot and cold water, very comfy-looking bed—and lots of room.”

The exhibit captures the human tragedy of the event by featuring small fragments of people’s lives with many of the objects probably handled shortly before the ship met its fate on Monday, April 15 at 2:20 a.m.

Third Class Cabin -- Courtesy of Henry Ford Museum

This includes chinaware (a cobalt blue border with interlocking gold trim for first class and plain, white with only the White Star Line insignia in the center for third class), sherry glasses (congratulating the Captain at a party), cut-glass butter dish (indicating second class rather than first class crystal), cooking pots tarnished from the sea one with food burned on it and the other with a hole burned through it.

Many personal items were found in leather suitcases including a brooch, star pendant, gold lapel pin, cuff link, gold filigree barrette, hair dye bottle, shoe brush, toothpaste jar, trousers and vest, shoes, postcards, letters, an arithmetic book, playing cards, silver mesh handbag, gold wristwatch, French francs, American greenbacks and coins, wire-rimmed glasses, Gillette razor, shaving brush, sock garters, mechanical pencil with eraser, pipe and tobacco pouch. 

Some objects were recovered from the ocean’s bottom:  bowler hat, mirror with faux ivory handle (plastic imitating luxury), perfectly stacked au gratin dishes (the wooden cabinet had rotted away), champagne bottles with some still corked with liquid inside.

Some artifacts come with stories.  First class passenger Adolphe Saalfeld, 47, a perfume maker from Manchester, England, lost 65 vials of perfume.  He was headed to America to market some new fragrances to department stores in New York and other major cities.  He survived but it would be decades before 62 of the vials were recovered from his Swiss-made leather suitcase—some with perfume and scents still in them. 

The exhibit does a good job of placing visitors in the mood and setting of Titanic through various techniques.  Its bright and colorful First Class area is accompanied by classical violin music until visitors move through to the crew’s quarters on E Deck (with bunk beds accommodating 50 men to a room) where they begin to feel the foreshadowing of the ship’s fate.  The space becomes dark with red safety lights as visitors pass through the mammoth watertight doors that separated Titanic’s 15 compartments.  The sound of pulsing engines gives way to the moans of the sea as the ship hits the iceberg and becomes engulfed in the ocean’s calm, icy waters. 

The doors were designed to close should any of the compartments fill with water thus giving the ship the reputation of being “practically unsinkable.”  The ship could have survived with two flooded compartments, but the iceberg cut six slits over 300 feet into the hull and filled five compartments, according to ship’s designer Thomas Andrews.

Young visitors instantly get the message.

“This is so creepy,” said one.  “You have to think about what happened to the ship.”

In the final section of the exhibit, visitors are treated to a simulation that explains how Titanic hit the iceberg, broke apart and sank to the bottom of the sea with debris strewn over an area of 15 square miles.  Another film illustrates how conservators decades later used the ROV to extract the artifacts. 

Many parts of the ship are on display including an angle iron (which visitors could touch), lifeboat davit cleat, ship’s whistle, telegraph and the stern’s docking bridge telephone stand.

A chunk of ice in the shape of an iceberg is also available for visitors to touch.

Passengers’ eyewitness descriptions of the ship hitting the iceberg and its aftermath make the event more real:

“CRASH!  Then a low rending crunching, ripping sound, as Titanic shivered a trifle and her engines gently ceased.”  (Violet Jessop, stewardess)

“Just a dull thump.” (George A. Harder, First Class passenger)

“Through the ship’s portholes we saw ice rubbing against the ship’s sides.” (Lawrence Beesley, Second Class passenger)

Memorial Wall -- Courtesy of Henry Ford Museum

At the end of the exhibit is a memorial wall with the names of individual passengers and crew on board Titanic’s maiden voyage.  This, too, elicits a more empathetic response to the tragedy as visitors check to see if the person whose passenger ticket they have been carrying since the onset of their tour survived or not. 

In first class, 201 passengers were saved and 123 lost.  In second class, 118 were saved and 166 lost.  In third class 183 were saved and 527 were lost.  Among the crew, 212 were saved and 698 were lost, including Captain Edward J. Smith.

Several recovered artifacts recall several ironic missteps that would later prove fatal:  the fractured compass bowl that set the ship on a new course of North 71 West (outside established traffic lanes) at 5:45 p.m. in an attempt to avoid ice by steering the ship further south. 

A barometer indicated perfect weather.

The forward masthead light sat in the crow’s nest to warn other passing ships of Titanic’s approach. 

A 60-pound lump of coal from the 6,000-ton load that was diverted from coal supplies of other ships due to a coal strike in England.  Titanic needed enough coal to feed its 157 furnaces that heated 29 boilers.  This single lump could move the ship 60 feet at full speed in 1.5 seconds.  Titanic was going at 21 knots, nearly top speed, when it hit the iceberg.  Many passengers originally scheduled for passage on other vessels were rebooked to cross the Atlantic Ocean on Titanic due to the coal strike.

Crow’s nest lookouts Frederick Fleet and Reginald Lee did not see the iceberg until it was too late and they did not have access to the ship’s only pair of binoculars.  Testimony at the British inquiry following the disaster revealed that it was common practice for only the chief officer, first officer or second officer to have binoculars while on duty and not for lookouts who would otherwise be distracted.  The binoculars were recovered and ominously on display.

The original plan of the ship ordered 32 lifeboats, enough for 1,900 people.  However, only 20 lifeboats, capable of accommodating 1,178 people, were on the ship.  This was done in order to cut costs and clutter. 

Only 714 people survived out of the 2,228 passengers and crew on board while 1,514 perished from hypothermia in the 28 degree waters of the North Atlantic Ocean.  Only two lifeboats were filled to capacity mostly due to the passengers’ reluctance to leave the ship because they believed it to be “practically unsinkable.”

Titanic’s resting place is located 400 nautical miles southeast of Newfoundland.  It lay quietly on a sandy seabed until it was discovered on Sunday, September 1, 1985 by Dr. RobertBallard, a former United States Navy officer and a professor of oceanography at the University of Rhode Island.  

Ballard originally planned to keep the location a secret to prevent treasure hunters from claiming prizes from the wreck. He considered the site a cemetery, and refused to desecrate it by removing artifacts.  Ballard is currently on a campaign to keep people from taking artifacts from the Titanic.  

However, RMS Titanic, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of PremierExhibitions, Inc. (Atlanta, GA), was granted Salvor-in-Possession rights to the Titanic wreck site by a United States federal court in 1994, which allows it to be the only company permitted to recover objects.  It has conducted seven research and recovery expeditions (1987, 1993, 1994, 1996, 1998, 2000, 2010) and recovered and conserved more than 5,500 artifacts.  

A dive to the wreck with remote operated vehicles (ROV) takes between 12 to 15 hours, including two-and-a-half hours to reach the ship and two-and-a-half hours to resurface. 

The bow as it looks today

Nearly all of the artifacts are tagged and stored in climate control environments.  That they have survived the passage of time as well as the trauma of settling below 12,500 feet of water at a pressure of 6,000 pounds per square inch is almost miraculous. 

Upon retrieval, each object is stabilized to prevent further degradation due to the sudden change in environment. 

The objects are being consumed by bacteria, abraded by sediments, and corroded by salt and acids.  “Rusticles” of bacteria and fungi cling to the ghost ship, which is also being consumed by iron-eating microbes that will collapse it onto itself in 40 to 90 years. 

The exhibit is dedicated to Millvina Dean, the last survivor of the Titanic who died at on May 31, 2009 at the age of 97.  She was a two-month-old baby when the ship went down and was saved in Lifeboat 10 with her mother and brother while her father was lost at sea.  Her brother, Bertram, died at age 82 on April 14, 1992, on the 80^th anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic.

Tickets are $10 extra with admission to the Henry Ford Museum and the exhibit runs until September 30.  Adult admission is $17, seniors 62 or older is $15 and youth 5-12 years old is $12.50.  For further information, see the museum website.

 

Delicate Arch is a mile-and-a-half upward climb of 480 feet almost a mile high in elevation--and I made it!

This article appeared in the Huffington Post on Tuesday, August 7

Ever since I first saw pictures of the mystifying red rocks of Utah, I wanted to visit Arches National Park.

After looking at the map, however, the place seemed so remote that I wasn’t sure I’d ever get there. 

Three Gossips

Recently, I visited friends in Grand Junction, Colorado, a small town on the west-central edge of the state right next door to Utah.  It was so named because its location is the confluence of the Colorado (a.k.a. Grand River) and Gunnison Rivers.  It also turns out to be the gateway to several national parks—including the Arches!

Although my hosts at “The Junction” are avid outdoor enthusiasts, I didn’t expect to go on a mile-and-a-half hike in 100+ degree heat.  But that’s exactly what we did in order to see the Delicate Arch, a signature landmark that is pictured on the Utah license plate.

Fortunately, my friends knew how to handle such extreme conditions, and I had an engaging experience trekking in those hot and beautiful desert lands.

My friend, Bobbie Hutchison, with umbrella

To protect ourselves from the searing heat, we did a series of things.  We left home at 6 a.m. for a two-hour car ride so we would be in the cooler morning temperatures.  As we prepared for our hike, we put cool-offs around our neck, hats on our head, sunglasses on our eyes and sunscreen on our arms, legs and ears.  We drank lots of water, used bandanas to wipe off the sweat and sucked on hard candies to keep our mouths moist. 

Heat in the arid West is intense and penetrating but shade from a bush, tree or boulder can be at least 10 degrees cooler and provide some refreshing relief and a welcome rest.  Although it looked pretty silly and seemed unconventional, our umbrellas shielded us from the hot sun while we walked.  Many of our fellow trekkers commented to us about their wish to have brought such cover. 

Finally, a walking stick not only made me look and feel like a professional hiker, it provided me with an extra “leg” to climb the long stretch of slick rock, navigate the trail’s various rugged “stairways” and feel a little more secure on the high five-foot wide ledges right around the corner of the arch.

Sheep Rock

My walk in Arches National Park helped me discover why hikers like to hike.  For them, it’s a goal-oriented adventure that is utterly irresistible both in reaching the end of the trail and in enjoying the eerie journey amid millions of years of geology, erosion and natural “art.”  Hiking in parks like Arches is not just ground to cover and a pin point on a map, it is a real live experience of wonderment. 

Hiking also allows you to feel the Earth under your feet and sense the quiet of the desert’s surroundings.  Maybe you’ll see a lizard scurrying across your path.  Maybe you’ll realize that the plants and animals that live there yearn for life, while those dead bushes and trees are still intent on leaving their twisted legacy for posterity.  Maybe you’ll be like those people who find hiking in Nature puts them in touch with God and Creation.

My friend, Martin Stafford, with slick rock climb (top center)

I got a taste of all these things during my hike to Delicate Arch, which took a good hour to reach although most people (without straggling youngsters) could probably do it in 30 to 45 minutes.  Actually, my look at the first third of the trail freaked me out when I saw tiny silhouettes of humanity bobbing about on the yellow-orange slick rock. 

Walking on it, however, wasn’t as bad as it looked, and it gave me the confidence to know that I could make it to the end of the trail.  Nevertheless, each high point we climbed and each turn we rounded, fooled me into believing we were within steps of our destination.  The arch is only visible at the end of the trail.

Slick rock up close

At times I wanted to quit, but I trudged on to avoid being rude to my hosts or to  look like a wimp.  Besides, there was nowhere to go but way up to the arch or way back to the parking lot.  We all pressed onward mostly in silent concentration.  I tried hard to hold back any annoying complaints until I couldn’t do it any longer--10 minutes before the end.  That’s when I decided that Delicate Arch was a hoax.  I vowed to kill my host by flinging him over the side of the mountain.

I huffed and puffed with each step as I made the gradual climb upward 480 feet to the arch whose altitude is just 400 feet shy of a mile above sea level.  It was a quite struggle to climb, I admit, especially in the oppressive heat and sun. 

Martin and Bobbie on the ledges before final turn to Delicate Arch

Then came the reward of finally seeing the amazing 65-foot tall Entrada sandstone arch as it majestically yet humbly stood there overlooking a huge valley with the La Sal (meaning “salt”) mountains in the background. 

Hiking to the Delicate Arch was well worth the climb, even for an inexperienced and out-of-shape hiker like me.  After all, such grand achievements are not meant to be easy!  I felt I was in a dream just standing in the presence of the arch.

I satisfied myself by sitting and staring at it from a distance while most other hikers continued toward it in order to touch it and be photographed next to it.  The ledges were a little too steep for me to chance this last bit of adventure.

Hiking back to the trailhead was much easier because it was downward, although it was a bit hard on my toes.  (I can only imagine what it was like for those hikers who wore flip flops!)  My breathing was less winded compared to the climb upward. 

Cairns mark a safe path

Cairns (pile of rocks) pointed the way on the most efficient paths and some provided human-made, human-scale “artwork” that complemented the giant, globular boulders and rock formations that surrounded us.

I have to admit that despite my reservations about the hike to Delicate Arch, making it has inspired me to return to Arches National Park on another day to take on the challenging Fiery Furnace hike.  It is three hours long and requires greater physical stamina and determination to make it.  (A slim, fit body would help greatly, too.)  Because of the fragility of the area, only a limited number of hikers are admitted twice a day for a ranger-led experience, which is previewed in an NPS video. 

Actually, the park has over 2,000 natural stone arches (an arch must be three feet across to qualify), in addition to hundreds of soaring pinnacles, massive fins and giant balanced rocks, according to the National Park Service.  These structures formed because they lay atop an underground salt bed, which was deposited 300 million years ago when a sea covered the area and eventually evaporated.  Debris from floods, winds and ocean currents was compressed into rock, some of it a mile thick. 

Balancing Rock (right)

Because salt under pressure from this hard rock is unstable, the salt bed shifted and buckled, liquefied and repositioned itself.  Faults in the Earth also made the surface more unstable.  Ice, wind and water erosion on the salmon-colored Entrada Sandstone and buff-colored Navajo Sandstone contributed to the development of the arches and most of the rock formations in the park that are dubbed with such fabulous names as Mule Ears, Courthouse Towers, Three Gossips, Sheep Rock, Tower of Babel, Park Avenue and of course, Balanced Rock.  In the background far away is the Parade of Elephants, which can be seen at the Delicate Arch’s trailhead.

Wolfe cabin

Also there is Wolfe Ranch, the site of John Wesley Wolfe’s 1898 homestead.  The disabled Civil War veteran, and his son, Fred, built a 100-acre homestead (and a dam) on the Salt Wash.  Apparently, they had enough water and grassland to raise cattle.  Wolfe’s motivation was the belief that the drier climate would relieve the nagging pain of his leg injury.  A weathered log cabin, root cellar, and corral are all that remain of the primitive ranch Wolfe operated for 10 years.  The remoteness of his home and the starkness of the surroundings make you wonder how the family was able to stay put before it moved back to Ohio.

The Wolfes weren’t the only ones to inhabit this area.  Hunter-gatherers came here 10,000 years ago and used the microcrystalline quartz they found for their stone tools.  Two thousand years ago the Pueblo and Fremont peoples cultivated maize, beans, and squash, and lived in stone “condo” villages like those preserved at Mesa Verde National Park.  Evidence of their habitation is found in rock inscriptions, pottery shards and other artifacts. 

an arch in the making

Native Americans apparently never lived in the Arches on a year-round basis, though they certainly roamed the area searching for wild game, useful plants and rocks for tool-making.  The petroglyph panel near Wolfe Ranch is believed to have some images of the indigenous Ute people on horseback, which probably date back to 1776.  (The Utes adopted horses only after the Spanish introduced them.)  The Old Spanish Trail, a trade route linking Santa Fe and Los Angeles, ran along the same highway past the Visitor Center that is today used by the park’s one million visitors.

In June 1855 the Mormons attempted to establish a mission in what is now the town of Moab (population 5,000), but conflicts with the Utes caused them to abandon that effort. In the 1880s and 1890s, ranchers, prospectors, and farmers permanently settled the town.

Courthouse Towers

As word spread about the area, Alexander Ringhoffer, a prospector, began the process of gaining support to create a national park.  He wrote The Rio Grande Western Railroad in 1923 to persuade railroad executives interested in attracting more rail passengers to lobby Congress in support of his project.  On April 12, 1929 President Herbert Hoover signed the legislation creating Arches National Monument.  On November 12, 1971 Congress changed the status of Arches to a National Park.

The Moab area is a mecca for biking, climbing, hiking, whitewater rafting devotees with campsites available along the Colorado and Green Rivers.  A variety of lodging options and other information on activities and events is available through the Moab Information Site.

The Arches Park has attracted artists and authors too.  Loren “Bish” Taylor, who became editor of the Moab newspaper in 1911 at age 18, frequently featured the beauty of the red rock country.  Edward Abbey, a seasonal park ranger in the late 1950s, wrote a memoir of his experiences in his 1968 classic, Desert Solitaire.

For more information, see the Arches National Parkwebsite.

 

What a World Citizen Looks Like

Nalini with an Indonesian "Garuda," a mythical bird in Hindu and Buddhist mythology.

This article appeared in the Huffington Post on Wednesday, March 21

On Thanksgiving Day 2001 Nalini Quraeshi was preparing dinner for 30 friends and family members when she received word that her father had died in Nepal.  Her two-day trip found the country suddenly beset with tragedy—and world headlines. 

A Maoist rebel insurgency had launched simultaneous attacks on several police, army and government outposts in several districts.  The government declared the country in a state of emergency, suspended all civil rights and imposed a curfew restricting all movement after dark. 

“It was a horrible time to go back,” said Quraeshi, whose mission it was to get her mother safely out of the country.  The shocking, untimely death of her father was made more traumatic by the political events in Nepal, and her concern for her mother’s emotional well-being and physical safety.

Another traumatic homecoming occurred in 1965 when Quraeshi’s family was returning home after being in the United States for six years.  The journey to Nepal included a transit stop in India, which was in the midst of a war with Pakistan over the Kashmir issue, a dispute that had been brewing since partition in 1947.

“There were sirens and bombs.  My sisters and I had to put cotton in our teeth and ears for protection.  We sat in the darkness during these air raids because we had to turn off all the lights.  This was my homecoming to Nepal [at age nine].”

Quraeshi was born in Kathmandu, Nepal, but because of her father’s work as a government diplomat for Nepal and later the United Nations, she lived in New York, Washington, D.C., Bangkok and Rome.  Her studies took her to Darjeeling, Delhi and the United States.

“Before I could lay down roots and establish an identity, my family moved to a different place,” said Quraeshi.  As a result, her parents taught her and her siblings that people are united more by their similarities and shared values than by their differences.  All beliefs are sacred and everyone deserves respect. 

For example, as a graduate student in sociology at Michigan State University (MSU), Quraeshi met her future husband, Zahir Quraeshi, a Pakistani Muslim and now a marketing professor at Western Michigan University (WMU).  Meanwhile, her three sisters are married to an Indian Hindu, a German Protestant, and an Italian Catholic.  Her husband’s sister married a Frenchman and their daughter is married to someone who is Filipino by birth but English by nationality.  Her brother is single and lives in Boston. 

“My family is a mini-United Nations,” said Quraeshi,  “but we all come together from all over the world to my house at Thanksgiving to give thanks for our many blessings.  And although we observe all holidays, we especially come together to celebrate Thanksgiving because of its secular tradition.”

Although Quraeshi spent the first part of her life all over the world, her life after marriage has been dramatically different.  She now resides in Kalamazoo where she reared two sons, taught Non-Western World Studies at WMU and to pursued her doctorate and taught international development and sociology at MSU.

“My sons’ experience is so different from my own,” she said.   Even so, she has made certain that they grow up as global citizens.  That hasn’t been difficult.

Quraeshi’s spouse, Zahir, has been a steady voice for globalism at WMU for the past three decades.  During his sabbatical year the family lived in Malaysia.  They also have many occasions to visit family members spread over three continents.

Her mother, 77, is Hindu, and her mother-in-law, 96, is Muslim.  They both live with the family, so Quraeshi tries to honor their religious beliefs through cooking, artifacts and design of the family’s home space. 

Although she grew up a Hindu, Quraeshi practices its intellectual and progressive qualities rather than its ceremonial rituals.  However, she feels comfortable among people from any religion.

Global citizenship has to do with one’s identity or one’s very persona that is ingrained and rooted, she said.  Accepting--and indeed embracing--diversity rather than fearing it provides people with a “richness” that gives them more options for study, travel, business and meeting others who have different ways of life. 

“Actually, I have tolerance for all religions and think of myself as a global citizen.”

However, Quraeshi admits that such a lifestyle has its downsides.

Being a global citizen means you don’t fit into neat, standardized boxes.  One of the most challenging questions for Quraeshi is to be asked where her home is. 

“Does that mean where I’m living now, where I was born, where I have spent most of my life, the country of my nationality or where my family currently resides?” she asked. 

Quraeshi said she feels at home in any place because she identifies with and adapts to whatever culture she happens to be in.

“I could retire just as easily in Thailand or Nepal or Italy or the U.S., as long as I have some friends and family with me,” she said.  “The hard part is not having the stability of childhood friends to grow up with all my life.” 

Recently, she has discovered a way to fill this void:  by returning to Nepal to try to fulfill her father’s vision and wish to give back to the country in terms of economic development and humanity equity. 

Since the Maoists’ insurgency in the country in 1996, rural Nepalis have fled to the cities and become “urban squatters.”  Village people from Bhutan and Tibet have left their homes as political and economic refugees.  Consequently, Kathmandu has degenerated into an impoverished, overcrowded and polluted place, without the infrastructure to support this rapid influx of people.

“There is so much that one can do,” said Quraeshi.  “And a whole generation of young adults is missing.  In every family someone has fled the country because of the violence.  Parents try to send their children overseas for an education, and to escape the political and economic uncertainties.”

Recently, Quraeshi began to find ways of implementing several rural development programs and experiments her father had envisioned years ago.  Over the last few years she returned several times to continue this work, but she has had to overcome bottlenecks of bureaucracy, logistics, security concerns and even corrupt locals usurping her parental property and resources.

Quraeshi has also discovered that like her, many of her high school friends have returned to Nepal, too.  One of them runs a conservation program, another has started schools for the homeless, another works with children who were born and have grown up in prisons, while yet another supports a non-governmental organization (NGO) that rescues young girls from the rampant Asian sex trade. 

Over the years many members of Quraeshi’s family have been helping Nepal from afar by raising money for scholarships and supporting schools, impoverished working families and religious institutions.  However, some are looking for projects that allow them more hands-on involvement like her brother-in-law, a cancer surgeon, who is seeking to donate his services. 

Nalini Quraeshi embodies what it means to be a global citizen.  She has lived among numerous nationalities, cultures and religions all over the world and speaks multiple languages.  Now, she is doing something to help her native land.

Gourmet Cook

Nalini Quraeshi plans her family’s meals with an international flair and pragmatic determination.  A sampling of her repertoire of dishes includes Mexican eight-layered fiesta with guacamole, frijoles, tortillas and corn salsa; Pad Thai with vegetables and chicken; Nepali-Indian lentils with rice and vegetables; homemade Italian focaccia with roasted vegetables and pesto; Mediterranean couscous salad and 15-bean soup with vegetables; Italian scallops and fettuccine in tomato wine sauce; Nepali Momos (steamed potstickers) with roast tomato cilantro chutney.

She only learned to cook after she came to this country, got married and had to learn how to live in an extended family.

She likes to entertain, however, and often has family or friends over for a meal.

On Nepal

Nepal is generally regarded as an obscure but beautiful, peaceful, exotic Shangri-la kingdom on the “roof-top of the world.”  It is the home of Mt. Everest and eight of the world’s ten highest peaks, and is a great tourist destination for hiking and mountain climbing.  There are also 10 UNESCO-designated world heritage sites, seven of them in Kathmandu. 

Nepal started out as a Hindu kingdom, but it is now a secular federal republic with nine different religions including Hindu, Buddhism, Islam and Kirant.  Its much-loved monarchy was seen as a reincarnation of God until 2001 when the prince designated to ascend to the throne massacred his family. 

The 29.5 million population is comprised of several different ethnic groups who speak at least eight different languages.  This 147,181 square kilometer landlocked country is slightly larger than Arkansas.

Since 1996 Nepal has been marked by violence during a ten-year Maoist insurgency.  Elections in May 2008 led to a stunning victory of Maoist party, the overthrow of a 240-year-old monarchy and the creation of a new federal democratic republic with the pressing task of framing a new constitution by 2012.  The government platform is to give voice to indigenous, disenfranchised groups in the hill regions and the far west.  It remains to be seen how things will work out.

Posted by Olga Bonfiglio at 5:00 AM

So What Do College Students Do on Alternative Spring Break?

This article appeared in the Huffington Post on Friday, March 16.

I found that out when I accompanied five students from Western Michigan University during their spring break last week.

This trip was so different from spring break depicted in the 1960 film, “Where the Boys Are”, where bands of youth took over Fort Lauderdale to indulge themselves in sun, fun, sex and alcohol.

To counter this image, college students in the early 1980s initiated the “Alternative Spring Break” where they formed a temporary community to learn about and reflect on social issues through practical experience. College service learning programs and campus ministries eventually picked up on this idea and then popularized them in the mid-2000s when students wanted to help people along the Gulf Coast in the aftermath of Hurricanes Katrina and Rita.

St. Thomas More Catholic Student Parish sponsored our trip to New Orleans as part of its campus ministry program. We worked through Beacon of Hope, a nonprofit organization that focuses on rebuilding the Gentilly neighborhood. We painted the exteriors of three houses and planted flowerbeds at one. Beacon of Hope provided us with tools while the homeowners provided paint and plants.

We met students from other religious-oriented groups, namely Hillel (Foundation for Jewish Campus Life) and the Church of the Brethren.

Then, there were other students not affiliated with any group. As one purple-haired, body-pierced organizer said regarding their motivation: “It’s just something you should do.”

Nearly seven years after Hurricane Katrina, most Americans have forgotten about its destruction and few understand the city's lingering recovery effort after 80 percent of it flooded due to 53 breaks in levees designed and managed by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. During the storm a 200-foot barge improperly moored broke loose and crashed into floodwalls and added to the damage—without impunity.

New Orleans has done a lot of reconstruction and in many places visitors wouldn't see any signs of Katrina damage.  However, about 100,000 Orleaneans out of nearly a half million have not returned home, most of them people of color. City officials bolted the doors of their houses so they couldn’t return or retrieve any of their belongings. Other people couldn’t get a fair price for their property and abandoned it. Rents in low-income areas doubled and those who lived in public housing were shut out when renovations reduced the number of available units. Grocery stores (23 of them), banks and shopping malls closed and didn’t re-open.  Public transportation networks imploded.  Charity Hospital, which served the low-income population and didn't flood, was closed with equipment still inside. Historic homes were torn down to make way for modern housing. Although unemployment was only 8 percent (2010) due to all the rebuilding, the homeless population doubled after the storm. 

Our second debriefing with Quo Vadis, director of CELSJR

Students learned these things during a four-hour orientation program at the Center for Ethical Living and Social Justice Renewal (CELSJR). However, they were advised not to pity the people but to be in solidarity with them, as summed up in a quote from the Aboriginal Activists Group of Queensland (1970s):

“If you have come to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.”

At CELSJR the students also learned something about “simple living.” For six nights we lived with 47 other people in three dormitory rooms with bunk beds and only five showers and three bathrooms. You wouldn’t think it could work, especially since most of the students were women, but it did. Students were very patient, flexible and cunning to get their needs met. Groups also split up the cleaning tasks over the week.

In the morning we made our own breakfast of eggs, cereal, bagels or fruit and were given sack lunches to take with us to the work site. We had dinner at 6 p.m.

However, the real story of Alternative Spring Break was about meeting people who had suffered the tragedy of losing just about everything they owned.

On the first work day, we painted Charles and Emily’s (not their real names) back porch and wooden fence. The floodwaters covered their one-story house up to the roofline. They were about to retire, their house was paid for and they had just remodeled the bathroom when Katrina hit. They returned home in 2009 after three years of rebuilding--and enduring much contractor fraud..

They acquired a lot of second hand furnishings “out of love,” said Emily, “and that’s why we’re keeping all of it.”

Charles, who has Parkinson’s Disease and has survived seven surgeries, helped us paint. He also showed us some of his family’s documents like their insurance policies, marriage license, birth certificates, which were partially damaged by water and mold. Many people didn’t have any documents proving their identity, which became a huge problem when they tried to make insurance claims.   

Emily made us a lunch of sandwiches, fruit and chips out of gratitude for our help.

On the second day, we went to Jack and Sandra’s house to plant flower boxes, move plants, and plant small bushes on the side of the house. This family was among the luckier ones we met even though they lost everything, too. They evacuated to Houston, Texas, where elder son, Sam, started high school and graduated four years later. He is now going to Delgado Community College in New Orleans to study business. 

Jack was able to find another job with the same company. Sandra, a teacher, sorely missed home. Then, when the family returned, she learned that she no longer had a job because all the city’s public school teachers were let go to make way for a new charter school system. She now cares for her aunt, who the students came to love for her jokes, songs and concern over their cuts and bruises. 

On the third day, we worked at Maybelline’s house where we had to scrape the eaves and overhangs before we applied the beige-colored paint.  When we arrived, she invited us to a breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausages, grits and biscuits. Before we left, she served us stewed chicken with pasta and red sauce. During these meals she told us her story.

Maybelline was a special education teacher all her life but then went into retirement after officials dissolved the public schools. She had successfully evacuated the city but moved 15 times before she moved back into her house. While away, she still received utility bills even though the electricity and plumbing were not working. After she returned, she lived alone without utilities for nine months. Those few living in the neighborhood went to bed around 6 p.m. and called each other on cell phones to make sure they were all right.

Maybelline did receive some FEMA support but had to make sure she kept all her receipts to prove that she purchased things allowable under the program. She still has the receipts in brown paper bags. She also told us how the insurance companies cheated people out of money.

Students take a much-needed lunch break and rest

On the last day, we painted Christina’s house—with 27 students from other campus ministry programs. They had been working all week on the two-story, wooden house that required scraping and caulking prior to painting.

Oh, yes, we did do some tourist activities. You cannot travel to a place like New Orleans without studying some of its historical and cultural aspects!

Upon our arrival after an 18-hour drive from Michigan, we headed to the Mississippi River for a boat ride on the steam-powered Natchez with a paddle wheel, calliope and all, to learn about the river and the city’s importance as a port.

On Sunday, we attended a Jazz Mass at St. Augustine Parish in Treme, a neighborhood adjacent to the French Quarter that was founded by slaves and free people of color in 1793. A musical combo and choir let you know you were in New Orleans as it led people in song.

After Mass, we walked to Congo Square in Louis Armstrong Park, where Black slaves used to hold picnics on Sundays. Baba Luther honors that tradition by teaching people how to play African drums. Every Sunday, he sits near a 300-year old “Grandmother Tree” as Mama Sula incenses the area. During the week she also incenses different parts of the city for healing.

Of course, we visited Café du Monde on the French Quarter that is famous for its beignets, a French donut with powered sugar on top. We visited Bourbon Street where the tourists go, but also roamed Frenchmen Street where the locals go. It’s has a Southern-style Greenwich Village feel to it and we danced to reggae music and listened to a street band.

One night we went on a ghost tour and heard not only some gruesome tales about the city’s past residents. Death has come in various ways and Orleaneans are matter of fact about it. After all, New Orleans is home of the jazz funeral where people honor the passing of a loved one with a street parade and then celebrate that the Angel of Death missed them—this time. It’s not that the people are morbid but rather that they prefer to invest their energies in a joie de vivre (French for the “joy of life”), which in New Orleans comes in the form of good food and good music. It was in this same spirit that people were able to start all over again after the heartbreak and hardship they endured with Katrina.

On our last night we had an elegant seafood dinner on the balcony at the French Market Restaurant. As we ate, a golden full moon rose over the Mississipppi River.

The students listened intently and with compassion to the stories of all the people we met and interacted with them with ease. They tried foods that were strange to them like alligator, crawfish, oysters, gumbo, muffalettas and the sloppy but delicious po’ boys.

They were good-spirited throughout the trip, including during the long drives in our cramped parish van. They did their work in a caring and professional way and remained enthusiastic even as they became sunburned, paint-splattered and tired of climbing up and down ladders.

If anyone doubts the strength and capacity of the next generation, don’t. The host of young people I met during Alternative Spring Break is evidence enough to believe that this upcoming generation will make our world a better place. 

This is the St. Tom's group with crew chief Allie (second from left in back) from Beacon of Hope

So What Do College Students Do on Alternative Spring Break?

 

This article appeared in the Huffington Post on Friday, March 16.

I found that out when I accompanied five students from Western Michigan University during their spring break last week.

This trip was so different from spring break depicted in the 1960 film, “Where the Boys Are”, where bands of youth took over Fort Lauderdale to indulge themselves in sun, fun, sex and alcohol.

To counter this image, college students in the early 1980s initiated the “Alternative Spring Break” where they formed a temporary community to learn about and reflect on social issues through practical experience. College service learning programs and campus ministries eventually picked up on this idea and then popularized them in the mid-2000s when students wanted to help people along the Gulf Coast in the aftermath of Hurricanes Katrina and Rita.

St. Thomas More Catholic Student Parish sponsored our trip to New Orleans as part of its campus ministry program. We worked through Beacon of Hope, a nonprofit organization that focuses on rebuilding the Gentilly neighborhood. We painted the exteriors of three houses and planted flowerbeds at one. Beacon of Hope provided us with tools while the homeowners provided paint and plants.

We met students from other religious-oriented groups, namely Hillel (Foundation for Jewish Campus Life) and the Church of the Brethren.

Then, there were other students not affiliated with any group. As one purple-haired, body-pierced organizer said regarding their motivation: “It’s just something you should do.”

Nearly seven years after Hurricane Katrina, most Americans have forgotten about its destruction and few understand the city's lingering recovery effort after 80 percent of it flooded due to 53 breaks in levees designed and managed by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. During the storm a 200-foot barge improperly moored broke loose and crashed into floodwalls and added to the damage—without impunity.

New Orleans has done a lot of reconstruction and in many places visitors wouldn't see any signs of Katrina damage.  However, about 100,000 Orleaneans out of nearly a half million have not returned home, most of them people of color. City officials bolted the doors of their houses so they couldn’t return or retrieve any of their belongings. Other people couldn’t get a fair price for their property and abandoned it. Rents in low-income areas doubled and those who lived in public housing were shut out when renovations reduced the number of available units. Grocery stores (23 of them), banks and shopping malls closed and didn’t re-open.  Public transportation networks imploded.  Charity Hospital, which served the low-income population and didn't flood, was closed with equipment still inside. Historic homes were torn down to make way for modern housing. Although unemployment was only 8 percent (2010) due to all the rebuilding, the homeless population doubled after the storm. 

Our second debriefing with Quo Vadis, director of CELSJR

Students learned these things during a four-hour orientation program at the Center for Ethical Living and Social Justice Renewal (CELSJR). However, they were advised not to pity the people but to be in solidarity with them, as summed up in a quote from the Aboriginal Activists Group of Queensland (1970s):

“If you have come to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.”

At CELSJR the students also learned something about “simple living.” For six nights we lived with 47 other people in three dormitory rooms with bunk beds and only five showers and three bathrooms. You wouldn’t think it could work, especially since most of the students were women, but it did. Students were very patient, flexible and cunning to get their needs met. Groups also split up the cleaning tasks over the week.

In the morning we made our own breakfast of eggs, cereal, bagels or fruit and were given sack lunches to take with us to the work site. We had dinner at 6 p.m.

However, the real story of Alternative Spring Break was about meeting people who had suffered the tragedy of losing just about everything they owned.

On the first work day, we painted Charles and Emily’s (not their real names) back porch and wooden fence. The floodwaters covered their one-story house up to the roofline. They were about to retire, their house was paid for and they had just remodeled the bathroom when Katrina hit. They returned home in 2009 after three years of rebuilding--and enduring much contractor fraud..

They acquired a lot of second hand furnishings “out of love,” said Emily, “and that’s why we’re keeping all of it.”

Charles, who has Parkinson’s Disease and has survived seven surgeries, helped us paint. He also showed us some of his family’s documents like their insurance policies, marriage license, birth certificates, which were partially damaged by water and mold. Many people didn’t have any documents proving their identity, which became a huge problem when they tried to make insurance claims.   

Emily made us a lunch of sandwiches, fruit and chips out of gratitude for our help.

On the second day, we went to Jack and Sandra’s house to plant flower boxes, move plants, and plant small bushes on the side of the house. This family was among the luckier ones we met even though they lost everything, too. They evacuated to Houston, Texas, where elder son, Sam, started high school and graduated four years later. He is now going to Delgado Community College in New Orleans to study business. 

Jack was able to find another job with the same company. Sandra, a teacher, sorely missed home. Then, when the family returned, she learned that she no longer had a job because all the city’s public school teachers were let go to make way for a new charter school system. She now cares for her aunt, who the students came to love for her jokes, songs and concern over their cuts and bruises. 

On the third day, we worked at Maybelline’s house where we had to scrape the eaves and overhangs before we applied the beige-colored paint.  When we arrived, she invited us to a breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausages, grits and biscuits. Before we left, she served us stewed chicken with pasta and red sauce. During these meals she told us her story.

Maybelline was a special education teacher all her life but then went into retirement after officials dissolved the public schools. She had successfully evacuated the city but moved 15 times before she moved back into her house. While away, she still received utility bills even though the electricity and plumbing were not working. After she returned, she lived alone without utilities for nine months. Those few living in the neighborhood went to bed around 6 p.m. and called each other on cell phones to make sure they were all right.

Maybelline did receive some FEMA support but had to make sure she kept all her receipts to prove that she purchased things allowable under the program. She still has the receipts in brown paper bags. She also told us how the insurance companies cheated people out of money.

Students take a much-needed lunch break and rest

On the last day, we painted Christina’s house—with 27 students from other campus ministry programs. They had been working all week on the two-story, wooden house that required scraping and caulking prior to painting.

Oh, yes, we did do some tourist activities. You cannot travel to a place like New Orleans without studying some of its historical and cultural aspects!

Upon our arrival after an 18-hour drive from Michigan, we headed to the Mississippi River for a boat ride on the steam-powered Natchez with a paddle wheel, calliope and all, to learn about the river and the city’s importance as a port.

On Sunday, we attended a Jazz Mass at St. Augustine Parish in Treme, a neighborhood adjacent to the French Quarter that was founded by slaves and free people of color in 1793. A musical combo and choir let you know you were in New Orleans as it led people in song.

After Mass, we walked to Congo Square in Louis Armstrong Park, where Black slaves used to hold picnics on Sundays. Baba Luther honors that tradition by teaching people how to play African drums. Every Sunday, he sits near a 300-year old “Grandmother Tree” as Mama Sula incenses the area. During the week she also incenses different parts of the city for healing.

Of course, we visited Café du Monde on the French Quarter that is famous for its beignets, a French donut with powered sugar on top. We visited Bourbon Street where the tourists go, but also roamed Frenchmen Street where the locals go. It’s has a Southern-style Greenwich Village feel to it and we danced to reggae music and listened to a street band.

One night we went on a ghost tour and heard not only some gruesome tales about the city’s past residents. Death has come in various ways and Orleaneans are matter of fact about it. After all, New Orleans is home of the jazz funeral where people honor the passing of a loved one with a street parade and then celebrate that the Angel of Death missed them—this time. It’s not that the people are morbid but rather that they prefer to invest their energies in a joie de vivre (French for the “joy of life”), which in New Orleans comes in the form of good food and good music. It was in this same spirit that people were able to start all over again after the heartbreak and hardship they endured with Katrina.

On our last night we had an elegant seafood dinner on the balcony at the French Market Restaurant. As we ate, a golden full moon rose over the Mississipppi River.

The students listened intently and with compassion to the stories of all the people we met and interacted with them with ease. They tried foods that were strange to them like alligator, crawfish, oysters, gumbo, muffalettas and the sloppy but delicious po’ boys.

They were good-spirited throughout the trip, including during the long drives in our cramped parish van. They did their work in a caring and professional way and remained enthusiastic even as they became sunburned, paint-splattered and tired of climbing up and down ladders.

If anyone doubts the strength and capacity of the next generation, don’t. The host of young people I met during Alternative Spring Break is evidence enough to believe that this upcoming generation will make our world a better place. 

This is the St. Tom's group with crew chief Allie (second from left in back) from Beacon of Hope