Not on Our Watch (18 page)

‘Short way?’ I ask.

‘Yes sir-ee!’

Boy, she’s chipper.

I quickly do an age and projected health scan of my guide; 18 to 20 years old, svelte, able-bodied ... There’s no way she and I have the same definition of a ‘short way.’ But I didn’t come out here to fold, so off we go.

When we arrive at our destination—a bum knee–challenging ten blocks away, uphill of course—I am shocked at how few people have assembled.

‘Where is everybody? I thought there was going to be a rally.’

‘There is. The press conference is first. I did expect there’d be more people here too, though.’

The licks may be a little different, but the main song is the same; where Darfur is concerned, it is difficult to draw a crowd. There are only about 15 people in the seats in this small hall. I am waved up to the dais and take my seat next to Adam Sterling, student activist and ringleader for this event. He thanks me, I deflect it, make a small speech, the ABC cameras roll, and before you know it the press portion of the programme draws to a close. I feel altogether unsatisfied. I know that there is probably some value to me showing my face here today, and the possibility of news coverage is nothing to sneeze at, especially for a subject as underreported as this. But still ...

I have stepped outside to do a one-on-one follow-up interview with the local anchor and start my goodbyes, when one of the DAC students asks if I wouldn’t mind coming over with her to Meyerhoff Park, a small area on the campus where their group has set up to marshal participants for the rally. If my knee could talk, it would be cursing at me for even considering her request, but my spirit wins the fight.

‘I’ll follow you.’

‘Great. It’s only a little ways from here.’

Four blocks later (don’t kill her, Don) we round the bend, coming upon a table full of fliers and a lawn full of grass, and little else. Again, there are only a handful of people here listening to the impassioned speaker booming over the PA, ‘Divest now! Divest now!’ The curious passersby eating their lunches far outnumber those collected out of real interest for the cause, but it does nothing to diminish the enthusiasm of these speakers, almost hoarse now from shouting over the microphone. When I come into view, they all turn to me almost simultaneously, and Jenny Wood, the Undergraduate Students Association Council president, asks if I wouldn’t mind saying a few words. I nod in agreement and she turns back to the mike.

‘And now please join me in welcoming a tireless ally in the fight for Darfur and actor in such films as
Hotel Rwanda
,
Boogie Nights
, and
Ocean’s Eleven
and
Twelve
...’

I’m sure she said my name next, but all that’s ringing in my ears is those last two titles, their juxtaposition to what I am doing right now discordant as hell. But more heads do turn and more bodies do begin to collect. It is a perfect—yet to me often strange—example of the power of ‘celebrity’. I probably know less than Jenny about whence I speak, and possess maybe a quarter of her energy, and yet the uninitiated and heretofore uninterested are now beginning to pool to hear what Basher Tarr of
Ocean’s Eleven/Twelve
/etc has to say. Fine then. It shouldn’t be all sunglasses and autographs anyway. I have been blessed with the rare opportunity to draw focus for however long it lasts, and I am happy to have something to talk about other than Brad Pitt’s favourite food or what Catherine Zeta-Jones is really like in person (tacos and lovely, respectively).

I jump right into it, telling the students that history is on their side as far as their being the catalysts for change. The youth have always possessed the vision and energy to address the ills of lethargic, outmoded policies and to transform them for good. I implore those gathered to not allow their legacy to be that of those who stood by and watched the genocide happen, a genocide in part funded by the California university system’s investments in Sudanese companies. The rally starts to take on the feel of ... well, a rally, as our numbers slowly swell over the next hour, different speakers stepping up to the podium to add their perspectives and insight. The DAC students pass out signs to those gathered, about 30 strong now, and Jenny lets me know that it is time to march over to James West Alumni Centre for the regents meeting, where they will be taking up the divestment issue.

‘I’m sorry, did you say march?’

‘Parade, strut, whatever. We’ve got to get more people out here for this, old school, 60s style. March and chant all the way, you know? That’ll draw ’em.’ She’s full of vim and vigour, inspired by our growing numbers. I’m full of apprehension.

‘March. Right. How far away is it?’ I ask.

‘Oh, it’s not that far.’

It wouldn’t be right to kick her in her enthusi-ass-im, but my knee is begging me to, as its last, dying act. The thing about it is, though, she’s right. As we make our way to the meeting, chanting as we go, students begin to gravitate toward the processional to investigate. Our numbers increase if for no other reason than many who have joined us want to see a confrontation between students and the ‘establishment’. These tough, young college kids are wrapped around an adolescent’s high-school, gooey centre, playing back their old tapes now, following the underdog to the fight behind the gym, hoping the bully will finally get his ass kicked. But even those with strictly voyeuristic interests at first are seemingly being won over by the information the DAC and those previously converted are reporting. No one in the periphery, it turns out, is a fan of genocide, and if an increase in numbers and a strong showing of solidarity among the students could possibly mean results for the Darfurian people, then everybody here now wants to be counted as agents of change. Hallelujah.

When we arrive at the centre many hours after this all began, in numbers much greater than we could have imagined, though I know I will be limping tomorrow, I’m standing tall now, heartened by how the perseverance of the few can rally the support of the many.

We pour into the Alumni Centre’s lobby that sits adjacent to the conference room where the regents meeting—already in session—is being held. It’s a nice, large area, and that’s a good thing as our numbers have now dramatically increased to near 100 students, one reporter/cameraman team, and one one-legged actor scrambling to the bench for a much-needed sit. From what I’ve been told, I won’t be sitting long, as the question of divestment is the first issue scheduled on the docket for discussion in the meeting. But as the minutes begin to click off the clock, it becomes clear that there is no real hurry to get to us. No one is dissuaded, however, quite the opposite in fact. If this is a gauntlet thrown down by the ‘establishment’ you know these students are down to pick it up.

After about an hour or so an official-looking woman sticks her head out of the door and asks that we wait outside; 100 people talking even at just a normal volume can cause a small din. When we ask about when we might gain admittance to the meeting, we are told that there has been a schedule change and that they are currently in a closed session and it is unclear as to when they will get to us. Were we misinformed, mistaken, or are they trying to cool us off? No matter now, the crowd happily complies, moving to the steps just outside the building and drawing an even larger crowd. Nearly an hour later, light beginning to fade on the day, this ‘drive-by’ is now approaching five hours for me, but there’s no way I’m leaving now. Adam and his team dig into their pockets and pool enough money to buy everybody Taco Bell while they wait it out. The students keep one another’s spirits strong, making impromptu speeches and singing songs, doing their best imitations of Berkeley in the 60s, and it’s fantastic to watch. And all the while our numbers have only increased. Finally, the security guard steps outside and invites us in.

We file into the room, taking up all the seats and every other bit of free space in the room—over 100 students standing silently, arms linked, holding pictures displaying the Janjaweed’s dirty work and the international community’s apathy, imploring the men and women collected there to divest their support from those supporting these horrors. One by one, Adam and his team make their impassioned, intelligent speeches to the board, pulling me in at the end to wrap it up. I try to get a read on the faces there, for some indication as to their leanings. Everyone seems to be on board, and sure enough, when the vote is called for, the proposal passes unanimously. Our celebration is loud and immediate, with everyone feeling the power of the collective. It makes me very hopeful that what has worked on this small scale could be a microcosm for what might possibly be applied in a larger framework, with even bigger results.

We pour outside congratulating one another and saying goodbyes, promising to offer support once again and ever again if the need arises. Hobbling to my car, I’m almost sad the day has come to an end. Never before or since have I seen such movement in so short a time.

Sore as I am, my battery has been recharged. What’s next?

8

Strategies for Effective Change

‘We as Sudanese know that the peace in southern Sudan was the effort of the American government. Regardless of the political agenda, we deeply appreciate that. The killing of civilians there has stopped. The media and advocacy groups in the United States could do the same in Darfur. Do not lose hope.’

Suad Mansour, a Darfuri woman and peace activist

You have the power to make a difference. This is not just rah-rah, cheerleading pabulum. The cold truth is that there is little appetite on the part of any government, including the United States, to confront the Sudanese regime or other merchants of death and to take the necessary actions to bring these tragedies to an end. Therefore, the only means by which Western policy can change, and thus the only way genocide and other mass atrocities can be stopped, much like slavery and violence in southern Sudan, is if citizens raise their voices loud enough to get the attention of their government and force that government to change its policy.

Effective activism needs strong leadership, direction, intelligence, and commitment. A broad strategy for moving forward must focus on both the short-term goal of halting atrocities in Sudan, Congo, and northern Uganda, and the long-term goals of ensuring that our governments have the tools to respond to mass atrocities in the future, and creating a constituency that will hold policy makers accountable for failing to act.

To help you find your voice, we offer six strategies for effective change:

- Raise Awareness

- Raise Funds

- Write a Letter

- Call for Divestment

- Join an Organisation

- Lobby the Government.

Strategy One

SOW THE SEEDS—RAISE AWARENESS

Each year in the US, the nightly newscasts of ABC, CBS, and NBC devote a total of roughly 25,000 minutes to news. Nonetheless, for the entire year of 2004, as genocide was ramping up in Darfur, the three main networks’ nightly newscasts dedicated only 26 minutes to the conflict, according to the Tyndall Report Year in Review.

During June 2005, a full two years into the Darfur crisis, NBC aired a mere five segments on the genocide, and CBS had none, according to a study by the Be A Witness campaign.
[1]
It analysed network and cable news coverage of the Darfur crisis and revealed what many Americans had long suspected about modern corporate media—it is sensationalistic and obsessed with the trivial at the expense of serious news developments like genocide. During that same June 2005 period, NBC and CBS each aired well over 300 reports on Tom Cruise’s romantic relationship with actress Katie Holmes and well over 500 stories on the Michael Jackson trial. FOX News had 41 pieces on Sudan, but an astounding 1,753 stories dedicated to the dethroned King of Pop, Mr Jackson. In all, the top television news teams aired 65 times more segments on what amounts to celebrity gossip than on the genocide in Sudan. The Be A Witness campaign encouraged viewers to send letters and petition ABC, NBC, CBS, and FOX News to further cover the unfolding genocide in Darfur. The networks need to be treated much the same as politicians; they need to hear from their constituents (viewers) in order to make something a priority. Again, this does not just apply to the US, but to every nation across the globe.

People cannot be expected to care about or act upon something they are unaware of. As these numbers attest, it is not enough to assume the mainstream news media will reach the greatest number of citizens or that they will convey the urgency of a situation. From the smallest gestures, such as talking with a friend, to larger-scale efforts, such as sponsoring a public forum, raising awareness is the key to ending the crisis. It is the first, critical step to affecting change.

And not everyone can be an Eric Reeves, dropping everything to dedicate his every waking moment (and probably a large portion of his agitated dreams) to the people of Sudan. Postcards, green wristbands, banners, op-eds in local papers, flyers, and speaking with friends about events in Sudan are all effective means of getting the word out and activism up. Remember: even small gestures can have great significance. For instance, Eleanor Kumin, a 17-year-old living in the Washington, DC, area, convinced her family to buy Save Darfur wristbands and information cards and hand them out at their annual December party. ‘The family felt so good about what they were doing that they have been handing out bracelets to friends at every opportunity since,’ Eleanor explained.

Sometimes, those small actions inspire larger movements.

Action Begins at Home

Larissa Peltola demonstrates perfectly that you don’t need a Ph.D., an influential post in the White House, or even to have finished elementary school to make a difference. This ten-year-old Los Angeles resident has been an advocate for Darfur and other human rights issues for the past five years. Larissa is growing up with the unusual after-school playground of Amnesty International’s offices, where her mother, our friend Bonnie Abaunza, works as director of Artists for Amnesty. Bonnie was responsible for our meeting at a premiere of
Hotel Rwanda
. When she first overheard her mom working tirelessly on human rights cases, Larissa was scared and upset, but she thought, Wow, I need to tell everyone about this so we can make a difference. Larissa has been creatively working to ‘make a difference,’ from writing her papers at school on Darfur and reading them in front of her class, to holding garage sales and selling her massive Barbie collection to raise money for Darfurian refugees. With the wisdom of optimism, Larissa says, ‘You just have to stand up for what is right and fight for what you believe in. No matter how young you are or old you are, you can make a difference if you put your heart into it.’

When Beverly Collins received a severance notice from her former employer several years ago, her first thoughts were not of how to find a new job, but of her passion for painting pictures, especially of women. It was this same passion that compelled her to paint images of Darfuri women. ‘As I looked at their faces when I was beginning to paint them, I saw the hurt and the atrocities put upon them,’ she says. Having only seen images of the brutality occurring in Darfur sporadically through newspapers and media, Collins felt an urge to tell people about what was going on. She now shows her exhibit, ‘The Invisible Women of Darfur,’ hoping to ‘inspire viewers to help with the cause.’

For Melinda Koster of Pomona College in Claremont, California, it began with bread and a simple note. Stunned at the lack of discussion about Sudan on her campus, she and fellow student Ellie Winkelman began ‘Challah for Hunger,’ a weekly fund-raiser selling home-baked challah bread for the price of writing a letter about Darfur to a government official. The success of ‘Challah’ led to similar groups forming at the other five Claremont colleges. This, in turn, led to a T-shirt campaign. More than 25,000 shirts have been sold nationally online already. Since late 2004, students at the Claremont Colleges have sold over 2,000 shirts on campus—raising more than $8,000 for refugees in Darfur. Not satisfied with just motivating her fellow students, Koster coordinated with four other friends a ‘Road Trip for Sudan’ to raise awareness among high school students and average citizens, to gather signatures for a petition, and to fund-raise throughout California. The ‘Road Trip’ has inspired efforts at other universities across the country.

Colleen Connors decided to take the message to commuters. She had followed the situation in Sudan for some time, but at first felt that ‘such a big issue can make people feel so small. I wanted to do something but couldn’t figure out what that was.’ It was on a drive near her home in Bethesda, Maryland, that she realised how she could help. When she saw a banner outside a synagogue that read ‘Save Darfur,’ she says, ‘I almost crashed my car.’ It was at that moment that she decided that ‘every house of worship should have that banner. Anyone from a mom in a minivan to our congressional representatives works and lives in the area. It could reach a lot of people,’ she notes. Her logic—when someone sees the banner but doesn’t know what or where Darfur is, they will try to find out. Her initial goal was modest: get a banner up in as many synagogues and churches in the DC area as possible. Through the Internet, interest outside the Beltway grew. Now she is working with several organisations, including Save Darfur, selling hundreds of banners across the country that read, ‘A call to your conscience: Save Darfur.’

In October 2005 when a group of students heard that the government of Sudan had hired Robert Cabelly, from the lobbying firm C/R International, for $530,000, they decided to take action. One Sunday afternoon they visited the neighbourhood where Cabelly lives and went from house to house leaving flyers for Cabelly’s neighbours letting them know whom their neighbour was representing. A month later, students held a bake sale outside his office to help raise money for C/R International and Cabelly so they would no longer have to represent the government of Sudan to earn a living. While the students did not quite raise $530,000 with their baked goods, shortly after the bake sale Cabelly stopped representing the Sudanese government.

Many Sudanese have played a significant role in raising Americans’ awareness and understanding of the crisis in Darfur. John’s friend Omer Ismail is a human rights activist from Darfur. He has co-founded two organisations—the Sudan Democratic Forum and Darfur Peace and Development (http://www.darfurpeaceand development.org/home.php)—which encourage dialogue and action on democracy, peace, and human rights in Sudan. When the situation in Darfur began to deteriorate in 2003, Omer went into overdrive. He devoted himself for two full years to raising awareness and testifying about the atrocities being perpetrated in Darfur for panels, student organisations, the United Nations, and the US government.

Seven Deadly Sins of Human Rights Advocates

Beware of the Seven Deadly Sins of would-be human rights advocates like us. We can get pretty sanctimonious, long-winded, and overzealous. So here are some things to avoid when you are trying to make your case, whether to a politician or to a group of people you are trying to educate.

1.
Don’t be too boring!
Advocacy is not like an academic conference. We need to think through how to make our presentations stand out. Tell a story, tell a joke, make what you have to say interesting. Don’t paint in black-and-white; paint in colour!

2.
Don’t be too long-winded!
Most of us who get involved in advocacy could hardly be accused of being shy. We often tend to drone on just a little too long about the issues that fire us up. Zero in on the main points and be concise!

3.
Don’t be too unilateral!
We often just make long presentations or speeches at our meetings and events. We need to focus on interaction with our interlocutors or audiences. After initial presentations, engage people by asking questions. Be interactive!

4.
Don’t be too complex!
We often overload our message by telling everything of interest about our subject in all its glorious complexity. Pick the highlights. Make a few simple points!

5.
Don’t be too unstructured!
There’s often so much to be said about our topics that we have the temptation to just blurt it all out in a stream of consciousness, sort of like hurling mud (or any other similar substance) against a wall and hoping it sticks. Instead, it is important to make a tight situation report and then present a focused set of recommendations. Make it flow!

6.
Don’t be too random!
To a government policy maker or any audience, we need to remain focused somewhat on what our own country and our audience can do. So make sure you focus your audience or interlocutor on the two or three most important things the government can do, and how that person or group can help make it happen. Be focused!

7.
Don’t be too touchy-feely!
We have to match our advocacy agenda to the big picture. We can’t just rely on the ‘because it’s the right thing to do’ argument, or simply hope that for humanitarian reasons people will respond. We also have to connect our issues to larger national interests and what politicians and citizens care about. For example, if our longer-term counterterrorism agenda is being undermined by the way in which our own country pursues this agenda in the short term, we need to shout that from the rooftops. If our promotion of freedom is going to be a central objective, then we need to demonstrate how these freedoms are being undermined and not promoted by our counterterrorism policies. Be relevant!

Another activist from Darfur is Dr Ali Ali-Dinar, the outreach director for the African Studies Centre at the University of Pennsylvania and the president of the Sudan Studies Association. Dr. Francis Deng, a former representative of the UN Secretary-General on internally displaced persons and Ambassador from Sudan to the United States, is also a powerful voice for ending conflict in Sudan. Like Omer, they have worked tirelessly to draw attention to the brewing crisis in Darfur through public speaking, conferences, and the media.

Simon Deng knows how harsh life in Sudan can be. Simon was nine years old when slave raiders supported by the government captured him in southern Sudan and gave him to a family in the north. Simon was a slave for three and a half years. The family forced him to perform gruelling physical labour, beat him regularly, and forced him to sleep with their farm animals. Having lived through these horrors, Simon was not surprised when he learned about the genocide in Darfur. And he was determined to do something about it.

Simon was already well known in the early part of this decade for speaking out about southern Sudan as a strong advocate for the rights of the Sudanese people. ‘I have spoken at rallies in front of the United Nations, in Washington in front of members of Congress, and at events all across the US,’ he told us, ‘yet the problems facing Sudan continue. It is for this reason that I decided that something out of the ordinary is needed to really raise awareness.’ Simon decided to lead the Sudan Freedom Walk, a 300-mile march from New York City to Washington, DC. He began in New York City on 15 March 2006, and many people walked with him as he made his way down the East Coast. He stopped in towns and cities along the way to speak about the crisis in Darfur, and local newspapers ran stories about his trek. When he arrived in Washington in April, Senators Sam Brownback and Hillary Clinton, along with Representatives Donald Payne and Betty McCollum, joined him in a rally outside the Capitol.