Not on Our Watch (14 page)

Ultimately it was the wide-ranging and deeply committed network of activists, including government officials and human rights activists, members of the US Congress from across the political spectrum, and a broad range of religious organisations, that assembled the pressure necessary to shine the spotlight of international attention on the practice of slavery in Sudan. The creation of a US Commission on International Religious Freedom, which labelled Khartoum the world’s most egregious violator of the right to freedom of religion and belief, was exemplary of this campaign. These efforts helped to bring an end to the resurgence of slavery. While the difficult work of getting the enslaved people of southern Sudan free and back to their homes continues today, the widespread practices of slave raiding that marked the 1990s are over.

The Lesson

So what is the lesson from all these efforts, as shown in all of these examples? It’s pretty simple. Unrelenting pressure from citizens on their elected officials helped generate the political will for their government to take stronger action to combat atrocities in Sudan and to end the civil war between the regime and the southern SPLA rebels. If we continue to ramp up citizen efforts through campaigns like ENOUGH, we can make an even bigger difference in Darfur, and in other places where mass atrocities have been perpetrated with impunity, such as Congo, northern Uganda, and Somalia.

DON:

‘Because they know if we stand tall, we gonna have something called Black Power, y’all!’ I’m posted up on the steps of the Grant Memorial in Washington, DC, decked out in 70s finery, major afro and muttonchops rounding out my look, speechifying through a bullhorn to the small but committed crowd collected here to listen to Petey Greene, legendary Washington, DC, personality, break it down to them like only he can. The crowd shows their enthusiasm, punctuating my rant with ‘That’s right’ and ‘Preach, brother!’ I’d like to believe it’s my commanding presence that has them so captivated, dedicated to the cause, but this being take ten at high noon on a 98-degree, 90%-humidity day, it’s much more likely that it’s this crowd’s dedication to their impending lunch and cool drinks that has them hanging on my every word. Kasi Lemmons, the director of the film, calls, ‘Cut,’ and that’s a wrap for this location. It’s my third and last day in the city, and this being Saturday, my sister has no second-graders to wrangle. So she’s standing on the sidelines waiting to spend whatever time I’m not being Petey Green with me. Lucky Don.

The last three days here have been a steady flow of activity, the filming of
Talk to Me
bringing to a close a trip that found John and me not only on the Hill in the offices of Senators Brownback, McCain, and Clinton (and one impromptu stiff-arm from a press secretary), but also in the company of erstwhile Darfur rebel leader Minni Minnawi of the Sudan Liberation Movement (SLM).

As soon as I knew Talk to Me was headed to DC, I called John to pick his brain as to who would be the most important senators to get in front of and plead our case. We also wanted to get their recommendations on the best ways to motivate the Bush administration to more strongly confront the genocide in Darfur. We wanted to discuss punitive measures against specific officials of the Sudanese government, measures without which there would be no remedy for the people of Darfur. John tested the waters and came up with a list of the aforementioned senators as well as Senator Barack Obama, a fellow soldier in this particular fight, whose prior engagements unfortunately placed him out of town that day.

We were looking to speak with those who had already shown a proclivity to put Africa on their agendas and who most recently had spoken out on behalf of Darfurians. But just as important, we were looking for a representative with political clout who would have the ear of the president and could literally ‘walk-in’ demands as an emissary from his/her constituency. High-reaching goals to be sure, but as my mother would say, ‘A closed mouth don’t get fed.’ Our plan in place, we coordinated our schedules and confirmed the meetings.

And a funny thing happened on the way to DC. For several months prior to this trip, one of my fellow producers on
Crash
, along with a group of producers, civic leaders, and the director Ted Braun, had been attempting to put together the financing for a documentary on activism as it relates to Darfur. A few weeks before I was scheduled to arrive in DC, the money came through for the project, and it was decided that what John and I were doing might be good material. Several more schedules to coordinate and the crew would meet us there.

However, I got a jump on folks and took off for DC ahead of everybody so that I could spend my first night in town with my sister, whom I hadn’t seen since I had been on the east coast some six months before. I call her as soon as I land and she comes over to meet me at my hotel. We spend the evening doing what we usually do when we see each other: not much; trying to make each other laugh, eating, talking about her gig, my gig, her nieces and nephews, Mom and Dad. At some point we get onto the subject of my other gig.

‘So I guess this isn’t just some fad for you, huh?’ Cindy asks.

‘I don’t know what to call it exactly. “Crusade” is too strong and ‘job’ is inaccurate, though it feels like one sometimes.’

‘I guess it’s not important that you call it anything as long as you keep at it.’

‘True dat, do-dat-do-do-dat-dat-dat.’ A Tribe Called Quest jumping out of my mouth now.

The hotel I’m staying in is not swanky, but that’s cool, neither are we. We’re having fun in each other’s company and finding nothing better to do than hang, Cindy and I order room service and watch bad TV until she has to take off to try and get some sleep before school the next day.

I’m also up at the crack of dawn to meet John, Ted, and the crew so we can go through our final touches before storming the Hill. Mindful of the brief amount of time each senator has afforded us, John and I identify very specific goals on which we want to focus their attention, namely the Three Ps: Protection, Punishment, and Peacemaking. We hope to be able to bring our documentary crew into the meetings but are aware of the fact that even though we’ve gotten prior approval, feelings often change when the actual rig shows up, the unblinking eye of the camera scrutinising every gesture, microphones sucking up every word you say. We all understand the priorities here, documenting the event running distant second behind hopefully engaging the senators in an endeavour that might actually save lives. Everyone in agreement, we saddle up and ruck out.

Senator Brownback is our first meeting, and he couldn’t be more affable, a quality I have always mistrusted in a politician. But if you look at his record on the subject in question, he has proven as committed an advocate as any on the senate floor, introducing the Senate’s Darfur Peace and Accountability Act in July 2005. He’s also cool with the cameras coming in. John and I go right into thanking the senator for seeing us and have time enough only to give him the slightest bit of our personal history when he jumps right in with: ‘What is it you’re asking of me?’ Albeit abrupt and unexpected, it wasn’t a rude cutoff. Brownback wanted to get down to business; damn the double-talk two-step of many politicians when they have no intention of doing anything beyond making empty, constituency-appeasing promises.

John and I rolled out our three Ps plan. Senator Brownback listened intently, agreeing with our assessments and getting his staffers moving on drafting proposals. John and I then ask what we believe to be our most important question: Would the senator be willing to walk this plan in to the president or enlist the help of someone who can as quickly as possible? It was a challenging prospect; the world, it seemed, had tilted on its axis that week, once again. We watched the Middle East for signs of the Great Conflagration—this time with the Hezbollah capture of Israeli soldiers along the Lebanese border, followed quickly by a bloody Israeli retaliation that had everyone on pins and needles. This new potential nightmare was pulling all focus. With regards to what we could expect in the way of a swift US response on Darfur, ‘It’s hard to act when the house is on fire,’ the senator said, surely referring to our country’s close relationship with Israel, her fate inextricably linked, at least from a foreign policy standpoint, with ours. However inadvertent, the senator’s metaphor was appropriate for the thousands of Darfurians literally, not figuratively, fleeing from fire, pursued by government and militia forces, burned out of their homes and livelihoods. Obstacles notwithstanding, Senator Brownback assured us he would get into the matter, and we assured him we’d follow up. After a brief outer-office confab, we moved on to our next meeting, with Senator Clinton.

Senator Clinton’s outer office was abuzz with activity when we arrived. We were no more surprised when the senator whisked in and showed us to her office than we were when her press secretary (the root word of secretary, ‘secret,’ factoring heavily here) informed us that our camera would not be allowed into the meeting. No problem. Again the most important aspect of these meetings was to rally the allies, not stress the photo op. And as allies go, Senator Clinton has similarly proven herself on this account, co-sponsoring legislation urging deployment of UN peacekeepers, enforcement of the no-fly zone, engagement with NATO, and pursuit of targeted sanctions against Sudanese leaders and broader sanctions against Sudan. She also champions what we believe to be one of the most crucial aspects of our plan: the appointment of a US envoy to Sudan to fill an untimely vacancy that left vital negotiations in a lurch from which they’ve yet to recover.

We waste no time here either, getting quickly into our plan, though with a wrinkle this time: we harbour no hopes that Senator Clinton will be the one to walk our work over to the White House, political divisions in this instance not solely reserved for parties in the Sudan. ’Nuff said. Like her Republican counterpart before her, the senator gives us her assurance that we can depend on her to move this issue forward, and we all leave the huge possibility that resides in her future unspoken.

We are early for our next meeting, so we mill around the halls of power with the documentary crew plotting what to do next. Turning a corner, I spy what looks to be a buffet table prettified with drinks and snacks at the end of the hall. The starving actor inside me (and every other actor, no matter how successful) is practically being pulled toward it. It is free food, after all. John steps up next to me trying to make out whom this party is for, eventually discovering that it is a gathering for the Republican Senator Kay Bailey Hutchinson. We must look like a splinter crew from a Michael Moore shoot, because it’s not long before the senator’s aide hustles down the hall in our direction and instructs us to turn off the camera and state our business. We do. He’s unimpressed but assures us if we go through the proper channels in the future ...

Browbeaten and snack-less, we amble our way to Senator McCain’s outer office, which today has the feeling of a war room. It is very quiet here, and off to the side is a small table, six men sitting around it dressed in dark-coloured clothes, their speech just a couple of clicks below audible, only the occasional hard consonant breaking through.

‘It’s a cabal,’ John offers.

‘And the room is bugged, so you better shut up,’ I counter. I’ve been told by many a lefty that they’ve seen ‘the List’ and I’m on it. I don’t need any more attention. I’m surprised I’ve been allowed in this far.

One of McCain’s aides comes over and brings us into his office. We ask about the camera crew and are told they are welcome as well, and before we get settled the senator breezes in announcing that he’s brought along a special guest.

‘You all know Lindsey?’ McCain offers. Lindsey Graham, senator from South Carolina, is trailing close behind.

‘These folks don’t give a damn about me, Senator McCain,’ his fellow senator asserts. Senator McCain travelled to Darfur, and he wrote an op-ed with former Senator Bob Dole urging the US to use its intelligence-gathering capacities to collect evidence on senior officials in the Sudan regime to build legal cases against them for war crimes and crimes against humanity. His letter to the Save Darfur Rally participants read in part, ‘We must act because the situation in Darfur is a strategic threat. We must act because our international credibility is at stake. But above all we must act because Darfur is, at root, a moral issue. The civilised countries of the world—the United States among them—cannot stand idle in the face of genocide. Should we do so, history will judge us harshly, as it should. None of us has the strength to bear that shame again.’

In a manner that has become a theme for today’s meetings, the senator from Arizona eschews the small talk and asks us what it is we would like him to do. We’ve got the routine down by now and launch into our prepared Ps. Though Senator Graham appears sceptical, McCain is very attentive and his aide furiously makes notes while we pitch our plan. Senator McCain assures us that he will get into it, especially the matter of the special envoy. He and Senator Graham promise to raise the issue directly with President Bush and National Security Advisor Stephen Hadley. It’s all over in less than 25 minutes. A small show-and-tell by Senator McCain of his photography (pretty good stuff) acts as a parting offer as we make for the door.

John and I compare notes as we walk toward our cars.

‘So?’ I want to hear his take. John’s been in and out of the Beltway for years. ‘Was that all just some BS or did we accomplish anything today?’

‘You know, Don, in a way that’s as much up to us as to them. And by us I mean all of us. The general American public as a whole.’

‘What do you mean?’