Monthly Archives: August 2011

Save Our Children: Hunger in America

28 Sunday Aug 2011

Posted by in Brazil, Save Our Children, United States

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The healthy development of all children benefits all of society by providing a solid foundation for economic productivity, responsible citizenship, and strong communities. Jack P. Shonkoff, MD, Director, Center on the Developing Child, Harvard University.

After living for sixteen years in Fortaleza, the capital of the State of Ceará in Northeast Brazil, the plight of homeless and hungry street children continues to haunt me. One scene in particular. It unfolded during our first year in Fortaleza.

One evening around seven-thirty, my husband and two sons – then three and five years old – waited with me for a dental appointment. The dentist’s office was located at a busy intersection in Centro, downtown Fortaleza, where buses and other vehicles rumbled by.

At the entrance of the office, I watched with a mother’s concern at two boys – about two and six years old – standing on the narrow concrete divider in the middle of the two-way, four-lane Avenida. Each time the traffic light turned red, the older boy moved from vehicle to vehicle asking for money.

Those boys were just two of an estimated (2010) five thousand children and adolescents living on the streets of Brazil.

The plight of homeless and hungry American children and adolescents is not as visible to me as they were in Brazil. No child has approached me at an open-air restaurant or on the beach to ask me for something to eat. No child has snatched a bag of French fries from my hand as I wait for a bus. Yet, one out of every fifty – or approximately 1.5 million – American children go to sleep without a home of their own each year (Campaign to End Child Homelessness, http://www.homelesschildrenamerica.org).

As millions of parents have lost their homes and jobs due to our political-economic crisis, the number of children facing hunger has grown: 14.7 million, according to Feeding America, a hunger-relief organization (http://feedingamerica.org/hunger-in-america/hunger-facts/child-hunger-facts.aspx).

In their battle to control growing deficits, states and the federal government are slashing the safety nets of the unemployed with budget cuts. With reduced donations, national food banks cannot cope with the increased demand for food assistance.

We need to inform ourselves about what is happening under our own roof. If you are ready to learn about our shameful state and if you would like to help American children and families facing hunger, watch the video, Hunger in America: How to Help, ABC World News with Diane Sawyer, 23 August 2011: http://abcnews.go.com/US/hunger-america/story?id=14342629.

A Dog’s Life in Los Angeles

21 Sunday Aug 2011

Posted by in United States

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SOURCE: Pets join in on the organic food trend, Los Angeles Times, July 2011

Until I moved to the United States, my relationship with dogs was based on their primary role as watchdogs and guard dogs in violent urban environments. I soon discovered that dogs in Los Angeles are much more than just pets. They are family. Even the Pit Bull!

Two Sundays ago, I went for an afternoon walk along the Venice Beach boardwalk. In spite of the signs prohibiting dogs at this time of day, a number
of people dragged their pets through the mass of bodies flowing in both directions. Then I spotted the black and white Pit Bull – on a leash and no muzzle – walking beside his male provider. Mr. Pit Bull appeared calm and at
ease among the crowd. I took no chances; I kept my distance.

On the lighter side, I must admit that I find some canine breeds adorable and irresistible. It’s no wonder that they are so well cuddled and kissed. On the bus and in shopping malls, I admire the well-behaved small breeds, like the Yorkshire terrier and the Maltese, who snuggle up in pet carrier tote bags close to their providers’ hearts.

Cashing in on our love and attachment to our pets, large pet shop chains cater to all our pets’ needs and tempt us with even more must-have foods, treats, and accessories. At the Global Pet Expo, earlier this year, thousands of new products were launched to make them healthier and happier. Specialty animal clinics and hospitals take care of our canine’s health. If we can fit it into our budget, there is also animal health insurance available to cover treatments, surgeries, lab-fees, X-rays, and more.

I envy the good life of our pampered canine companions who are living the American Dream. Although we currently face foreclosures, layoffs, no health insurance coverage, crippling medical debt, and state budget deficits, we continue to provide for them. They have captivated our hearts and minds. They are the perfect companions. They make our bleak and solitary lives more bearable. When a mud slide buries us, they do not desert us.

Can our homeless and hungry children, needy of our generosity and love, compete with the highly evolved, successfully adapted, domestic canine species?

Living Behind High Walls

14 Sunday Aug 2011

Posted by in Brazil, Urban Violence

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Entrance (Portaria) to Apartment Building in Fortaleza, Ceará, Brazil

When I migrated to Brazil with my husband and two sons in April 1987, Brazil had not long ago emerged from 21 years of military dictatorship rule (1964-1985). As we settled in to make our home there, we did not realize that Brazil had a long way to go before it could address the glaring inequality between the population and the minority upper class that owned and controlled the agricultural lands, major industries, financial institutions, and the media.

During our first week in Fortaleza, we entered a tiny neighborhood mercearia (grocery shop) and boggled at the shelves stuffed with a wide variety of canned, bottled, and other food products. In the stores in downtown Fortaleza, there were no shortages of consumer goods – all Made in Brazil.

Our elation was short-lived. Inflation, like a woodpecker, whittled away at the meager profits of our home-based pastry business. Like the low-paid worker, we could not earn enough to keep pace with the constant price increases of staple and other essential items.

Together with the majority working class, we jostled for survival. Street children and adolescents roamed downtown, major streets, and beach fronts in search of food and whatever they could snatch. They targeted women (myself included) and the elderly. Bandidos (bandits) did not hesitate to kill whenever they encountered resistance. If you had no money, they took your clothing and shoes, leaving you in your underwear. Pistoleiros (gunmen) for hire eliminated enemies and rivals for as little as fifty US dollars.

In the middle and upper class neighborhoods, private security guards manned portarias (guard huts, like the one shown in the above photo) at the entrance of apartment buildings. Houses hid behind high walls, some with signs ‘Cuidado com o Cão’ (Beware of the Dog). To avoid triggering angry responses from guard dogs on the other side of walled residences, I shunned the sidewalk and walked on the street.

I was not familiar with the numerous popular breeds of guard dogs. But one of them was notorious: the Pit Bull.  The Pit Bull had arrived in Brazil a year after we did and soon gained a reputation as a beast, capable of brutally killing a person. Cases of such deaths usually hit the headlines of Brazil’s TV Network.

The day a Pit Bull escaped from a yard while I was walking by on the street left me shaken. Before his owner had secured him by his collar, he had snapped at the back of my left calf, ripping my sheer nylon stocking, and leaving red teeth marks.

Brazil is currently debating a law to prohibit the sale and breeding of the Pit Bull as well as sixteen other fierce dogs. A number of Brazilian states have already done so. Owners of Pit Bulls must secure them with collars, chains, and muzzles. Offenders are heavily fined. Imprisonment awaits those whose animals injure or kill their victims.

The Pit Bull was not my kind of companion. I found refuge from the violence stalking the city behind high walls.

Brutal Murder of Rusty Lall

12 Friday Aug 2011

Posted by in Guyana, Urban Violence

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This morning, I read with horror the news in the Guyana Chronicle Online of the brutal killing of Rusty Lall: a beloved guard dog and pet.

Violence continues to strangle our small nation.

Read more: “Brutal murder of Rusty Lall” by Parvati Persaud-Edwards, published on 24 July 2011.

http://www.guyanachronicleonline.com/site/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=30869:brutal-murder-of-rusty-lall&catid=4:top-story&Itemid=8

Beware of the Dog!

07 Sunday Aug 2011

Posted by in Guyana, Urban Violence

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The dog is man’s best friend… They say. But dangerous encounters with our so-called friend have left me with an aversion for our domesticated companion.

During my early years in Guyana, dogs were mostly kept either for hunting wild deer in the forested sand hills, some thirty miles inland from Georgetown, or guarding the home and other properties.

I was eight years old when my parents first allowed me to visit my cousins by myself. My uncle and his family lived at the back of a long yard. There was no ‘Beware of the Dog’ sign on the access gate. On the right of the car-width concrete pathway, a six-foot-high zinc-sheet fence hemmed me in. Four-foot-high paling fenced in the houses on my left.

I had gotten half-way along the path when a dog dashed from a yard. He ran towards me. I froze against the zinc fence and screamed. What happened afterwards is a blur.

After independence in 1966, our young nation ventured on a path of degradation. The empty shelves of the corner cake-shop and grocery stores mocked us. Water shortages and black-outs became commonplace. Home burglary, oftentimes ending in violence, and thuggery contaminated our city and coastland. ‘Beware of the Dog’ signs multiplied across the city and outlying areas. Wrought-iron frames fortified windows and doors.

In the flat above us, the couple with three young boys – ranging from seven to eleven years – owned a dog of mixed breed, the size and color of a butterscotch Labrador. During the day, they kept him locked in a kennel in the front yard, close to the gate and our front door. I’ll call him Brutus. I don’t recall his name: We were never on speaking terms.

When the following incident occurred, I was an Assistant Librarian Trainee at the University of Guyana Library, where I sometimes worked the 2:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m. shift. On those nights, my father held Brutus while I slipped through our front door. Our neighborhood was in darkness due to yet another black-out. I was surprised to find my father (a hunter) waiting at the gate. He was somber.

Wait, Rose. Let me lock up Brutus first, my father told me. Brutus lurked in the shadows at the foot of the front stairway. After I was safely indoors, my father released Brutus to guard his territory.

The babysitter, a woman in her forties, had left the boys alone upstairs while she took care of some personal matter. When darkness closed in and the lights did not come on, the boys released Brutus. On her return, the woman entered the dark yard, unaware that Brutus was on the loose.

The attack was brutal. Blood and bits of flesh spattered the front stairs where he caught her. If my father had not intervened, Brutus would have mauled the woman to death.

I shuddered. I hated the brute. But I slept better at nights knowing that he protected us from the violence strangling our city.