United States - Tanzania - India - New Zealand - Mexico


Mexico — Letter Home

Well, it’s hard to believe our journey has come to an end… and what a journey it has been. Our time in Mexico proved to be just as interesting and insightful as that spent at our previous destinations. We learned about everything from NAFTA to the Zapatista movement to the cultural significance of corn, art, and local governance. But rather than go into detail on all that, I thought I would leave you with some of the students’ own words for this final letter home. May you be as inspired by them as I have.

Much love,
Maureen White
Trustee Fellow
RG 07-08

There’s been something following me around since DC, like a ghost. It has been there in every village stay, every “cultural experience,” every classroom. It’s been there in every bus, every train, every rickshaw, every airplane. It follows me, and as much as I try to ignore it or get rid of it, it remains. Sometimes I even turn to it for help when I’m having trouble getting what I want, sometimes someone else has already done that for me.

I am the spirit of privilege who has embarked on the journey you’ve been on for the last twenty-five weeks. I have traversed across oceans and continents with you and have encountered spirits of far away people and lands in the same ways that you did. In many of the places you’ve visited, I have enjoyed the luxury of the food, the beauty of the place, and the exuberant hospitality of the people. I have never been given so much attention before—I had wondered if it was because of the fluency in English, coming out of the United States, or perhaps the amount of money the other assumed that I have.

I went on a safari in Tanzania. I got to go down in Ngorongoro Crater with a guide. I got to take as many pictures as I wanted, sometimes getting as close as I wanted in order to do so. It was a reserve, and I got a guide to bring me down to see the animals. I had the money to. The Maasai can’t bring their cattle and goats and donkeys down to graze anymore, can’t follow their normal pattern because it’s a reserve, a park. But I can. I had the money to. In Zanzibar, it was the same but with monkeys, and dolphins, and turtles. Sure, it was in the name of preservation or conservation, to save the habitat, save the animals. Why were populations depleting in the first place? Surely not because of practices that have been used for thousands of years. Maybe because other people had the money to go to Tanzania to hunt rhinos. Or buy ivory on the black market. Or pay for shark meat and more fish at their up-scale hotels on the beach. Now we need reserves and parks without people. But not all people, just a certain kind of people. Now I can go in as a tourist and experience these species and places and take my pictures, while the people who’ve survived on them, and with them, are not allowed. But I have the money to.

In the same way that you have, I have also encountered the pain, and the scares of neo-colonial and exploited Africa. I have stepped into the lives of the Maasai whose pastoralist way of life is rapidly being encroached upon by the forces of economic productivity and development. Their land on which they’ve herded their cattle and migrated freely for hundreds of years have been expropriated to foreign mining companies and conservation parks. This has been the very same land on which you have enjoyed watching elephants, wildebeests, and zebras interact in the wild for only a small fee—the most common tourist activity in east Africa. It is true that you embark on this journey as a student whose primary purpose is to learn about nature and justice. And this very category provides you with the further opportunities of discounts in the markets and a different degree of interaction with the locals. Nonetheless, you never faced any restrictions to the amount of water you used, or the quality of food that you ate, or the level of comfort you dwelled in.

When I turn on the tap at home, water comes out. It’s a given. If I’m not picky about the taste, I can drink from the tap. If I am, I can buy bottled instead. When I throw away my garbage, I don’t have to think about it anymore. It goes away, sometimes to other countries like the ones I’ve visited. When I buy anything, I don’t have to acknowledge the waste that went into producing it or who is dealing with it or where. When I want a t-shirt, I can go to Wal-Mart and buy it for nine dollars. But when I travel to India, it’s a little harder to ignore—the piles of trash, the water shortages, the days without power. But India needs to develop, India needs economic growth! Even if it means building thermal power plants that take usable and used land and turn it into a deposit for ash. Even if it means mining for coal, shipping it, and dropping the excess waste back into the water. Yes, that land is barren, yes those fish are poisoned, yes that water is undrinkable. But look at the development! And India needs to develop, needs economic growth! Even if it means turning subsistence agriculture into cotton monoculture. Even if it means losing local varieties in favor of Bt and genetically modified seeds. Yes, farmers lose money and land and sometimes feel helpless enough to take their own lives. Yes, the land is degraded, yes the water is poisoned with fertilizer, yes there is only one cheap seed left. But look at the development! As for me, I don’t have to think about it. And when I go to India, I don’t have to see it, or live in it, not unless I want to. And when I leave, I’ll return to my water and my trash dump and my electricity, and all I’ll left are memories. Not every day realities.

Then I traversed with you across the Indian Ocean into the heart of Maharashtra, where you again were welcome with open arms into the lives of many people. As much as it shocked you, it shocked me, too, to learn that an average of two cotton farmers commit suicide in the state of Maharashtra because of complicated debt they get into that they cannot repay. Some cotton farmers are proud of the Bt cotton industry and think it’s the best business, but the majority of them have been drained of all of their resources which only brings them twenty-five cents per kilo they sell—an income barely enough to feed themselves. In the meantime, their cotton is manufactured and sold to you as a finished t-shirt for nine dollars. Where does the difference go?

They share their life stories with us, but because of me, the spirit of privilege, you will never really be able to understand and experience what it means to toil under the sun all day, or have the fear of losing your land to a bigger corporation the following season. You will return to your old life where many of your goods and services are guaranteed. And as much as you have gotten to know these people and their ways of being, most of them will never have that choice. The choice to leave behind their lives for nine months, three months, or a day to board a plane and ponder a visit in your life.

Going to the caracol and learning about the Zapatistas was one of the most valuable experiences for me on this trip. “Everything for everyone, nothing for us.” “One world where many worlds exist.” “One no, many yeses.” I don’t need to follow these ideas and fight for them if I don’t want to. Everything for everyone, nothing for us? I have the means and convenience of getting, within reason, whatever we want. One world where many worlds exist? The world I live in already exists, already dominates at the expense of many others. One no, many yeses? My yes is heard around the globe, drowning out the other yeses, and squashing the no’s, too. When asked if there is ever a time when violence is necessary, I can confidently say no because there aren’t people with guns nearby, there isn’t militia at my doorstep. I have my morals and values and can live peacefully without ever having to face situations that will make me question them. The Zapatistas don’t want help, they don’t want aid, they want solidarity in their struggle. And I can choose to participate in it as much or as little as I want. I can choose to struggle. The Zapatistas don’t have that choice.

And so I step back and question all of these things I’ve heard over the years. “Eat your peas, there are starving children in Africa.” Where in Africa? Why? Am I to blame? I was told to cut my plastic six-pack rings to save fish from getting caught in them and dying. Whose fish? Where? Why is my plastic ending up in someone’s river or stream? Told not to be a litterbug, I didn’t throw my fast food waste out of the car window. But how much waste went into producing that fast food? And who deals with that waste, so that I can enjoy that ninety-nine cent cheeseburger on my way to work? I question these commands. I question the authority, I question the system. And I feel guilty. How lucky am I to have the chance to step back and question it in the first place! To have the luxury of feeling guilty afterwards, when others can’t because they are just trying to live.

I eventually walked beside you in Mexico into the struggle of the Zapatistas. The Zapatistas took the time to invite us into their struggle: you don’t have to be indigenous to join our struggle, said Julio, you just have to choose to do so. But it is exactly because of me that you have that choice. A choice of where you want to invest your time and direct the struggle as you please. But can the indigenous people really afford to make that choice, or just be the struggle? Can they really, when their future, their dignity, their identity is always at stake. The forces of colonialism and the exploitation have not been eliminated in the world. How can they be when it benefits those behind the barrel of the gun? Instead, they have diplomatized—it is no longer necessary to march into the jungles of Africa looking for prime specimens who bring top dollar at auction blocks in Charleston or Havana or is it necessary to embark on treasure hunting ships to gamble for the silver and gold of meso-America, or drive entire populations to the brink of extinction. No! So-called civilized governments and corporations simply have to sign a piece of paper that privileges them to go and dig up gold in Tanzania, build cheap sweatshops in India, and dump cheap corn on the Mexican market. After some accounting transactions you suddenly can have access to all this wealth and opportunity without really understanding how it all came about. And damn right, you can step outside the system, question it, and feel guilty. But what good does guilt serve you when you can still go home to buy that ninety-nine cent cheeseburger?

You have so much privilege: I have so much privilege:
You are educated. I am educated.
You have a job. I have a job.
You have job opportunities, should this one fail. I have job opportunities, should this one fail.
You have an address. I have an address.
You speak English. I speak English.
You are middle class. I am middle class.
You have access to credit cards and loans. I have access to credit cards and loans.
You have guaranteed freedoms. I have guaranteed freedoms.
You have electricity and potable water. I have electricity and potable water.
You have the time to travel. I have the time to travel.
You are American. I am American.
You are white. I am white.
You have a choice. I have a choice.
You can question the system. I can question the system.
You feel guilty. I feel guilty.

So, what do I do now? You have to do something. What are my responsibilities? You have responsibilities. What are my obligations? You have obligations.

Johanna Hudgens
Helena Shimboleni
May 7, 2008

With my time in Mexico and stream of optimism I had built up over the course of the year broken by my premature re-entry to the U.S. over vacation, my experience was considerably changed. After returning to the group (my family), after vacationing with my family in Florida, I was convinced this change would be a negative one. I was, after one week, fooled into the hollow happiness of material “luxuries” or “conveniences.” Conversing with a number of American citizens about the upcoming election I became overwhelmingly discouraged by the lack of inspiration, imagination, and hope I would eventually be returning to for an indefinite period. I feared facing this mentality, convinced there was only one path and direction for human existence and growth…feared facing it without the support of my new family.
After trying to distance, or rather wean, myself from the group my faith in the group’s and my personal influence and power was unexpectedly restored. It was our final small group trip to stay with Zapatista communities that I have to thank for this newfound optimism. Placed, ironically, in a group of students I least knew, we were together faced and confronted with a living example of what it is to go against the dominant mainstream and formal authority. Creating and living the world in which they could achieve happiness, the Zapatistas reminded me of the supportive community we have established amongst ourselves…relationships many never find in a lifetime.
Thus, I will remember Mexico as a place I’ve lived and learned…twice…and I couldn’t have done it without 26 others.
Alexandra Gray
May 8, 2008

We just received the letters we wrote to ourselves in September, and it is surreal to think that the journey I was so apprehensive about is finally coming to a close after 8 months of life-altering experiences. In my letter I was so focused on the academics of the program, the “global context” expanding my personal limits… but what I failed to predict was the effect the group would have on me. Never in my life have I felt so inspired and supported by a group of individuals, and never have I been part of something this incredible. There are no words to describe the bonds we have formed, and what “close” really means after 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, for 8 months. Although Mexico is nearing its end, I feel lucky to realize already what I have found this year, instead of discovering too late how truly amazing it all was. We say it all too often, that this is not the end, but the beginning… we may be saying goodbye to homestays and overnight bus rides, dinner conversations about globalization and all-nighters, amazing lectures and dance parties, and our family of 30, but as we move on to the next part of our lives, our memories and friendship will travel with us…
Racheal Wyant
May 5, 2008



Many Worlds Are Possible
By Riva Denny
This poem is dedicated to my fellow students on IHP RG 07-08, and to the wonderful and challenging year that we spent traveling together.

Mountains beyond mountains,
Skies beyond skies in the fading day,

Once I believed that everyone and everything existed in the same world.
I also once believed that this one world was infinitely understandable to me, if only it was translated properly.
But what is translation but approximation?
What happens when a truth is not true?
Where time has no relation to numbers,
And the place where I am is not supposed to exist.

Stars beyond stars,
Rivers beyond rivers.

I left, with the burden of the world on my shoulders, to become enlightened.
To learn how the world can be saved,
And to do it I would give up my life as I have known it,
—willing to never go home again.

Valleys beyond valleys,
Clouds beyond clouds.

Now I have circled this planet called Earth,
My passport has been stamped to prove it.
But where have I actually been?
I have only ever been “here.”
But here can be as different as two snowflakes.
And in all these “heres” I have seen and heard many things.

Oceans beyond oceans,
Trees beyond trees.

I found capitalism to be an invisible vine,
Twisting tendrils into even the smallest empty cracks,
—ever growing and exploiting, and never satisfied.
And I discovered too that I have been living in the middle of it,
—though I couldn’t see its leaves blocking my sight.

Hills beyond hills,
Streams beyond streams.

I once struggled with the idea of my participation in causes that are not my own.
But I have now realized that if I have a place in it than it has always been my fight,
And I can join it from inside my life,
—no martyrdom required.

Forests beyond forests,
Deserts beyond deserts.

There is a shocking moment of awareness when two worlds touch.
One in which my truths are no longer true.
—my world no longer exists in isolation.
And now things don’t look like they did before.
—nothing does.

Rainbows beyond rainbows,
Stones beyond stones.

I may not be of this world which I visit,
But that doesn’t mean it does not exist,
—that it isn’t real.

I am here as night falls.

Worlds beyond worlds beyond worlds.



New Zealand – Letter Home

Composed by IHP Trustees Fellow Maureen White and Rethinking Globalization Student Tanner Welsh

Well, we made it to New Zealand from India in one piece. You could say our introduction to the environmental impacts of globalization started as soon as we arrived at airport customs. Having spent part of our journey on a farm (honestly the first time I’ve ever checked the ‘yes’ box for that on the customs form!) we had to go through a biological decontamination process as a way of protecting New Zealand’s delicate island ecosystem from any foreign microorganisms that may have stowed away on the bottoms of our shoes- a stark lesson in how damaging invasive species have been to NZ’s environment. After our flip-flops and hiking boots were thoroughly sprayed with a mysterious bio-control chemical, we were allowed into the country and were off on yet another academic adventure. Here to tell you all about it is our very own RG student extraordinaire, Tanner Welsh:

Dear Families and Friends,

Kia ora! Hello! Well, we have now almost fully completed our circumnavigatory journey. New Zealand was superb, and also quite a distinct change of pace, form and content. Upon our touchdown in Wellington, we dragged our jetlagged bodies out of the airport and into a clean, relatively quiet, and strangely familiar-looking city. Everyone was, to a lesser or greater degree, culture shocked from the streets filled with American pop music, fast-food chains, and swarms of 20-something New Zealanders – aka “kiwis” – out to have a good time on a Saturday night. The city is quite pleasant: situated on a calm bay, surrounded by hills, with a mild climate and lots of quaint neighborhoods. There was not much time to see the city during this visit, but we would get our chance to have all our urban adventures later on in the program.

After spending a few free days re-orienting our bodies to the new climate, culture, and clock, we moved about an hour north to the Riverslea Lodge outside of the small college town of Otaki. At this comfortable retreat we spent the next seven days setting the New Zealand stage. We also met some new faces who would accompany us for the rest of our time here: Peter Horsley, our country coordinator and good-humored morale maintenance officer; Peter Bunyard, the co-founder and editor of The Ecologist and also IHP U.K. country coordinator (since we could not visit him in Cornwall he decided to join us down under); and Monique Badham, a recent post-grad graduate, rookie IHP assistant coordinator, and avid fan of New Zealand’s electro-folk music-comedy duo, Flight of the Conchords. This first week was a good mix of classes and recreation, so we were not too exhausted at the end of each day to “have a good yarn” (kiwi slang for “chat”) and get acquainted with our new friends.

Academically, most of our work centered on introductions to issues that would be revisited throughout the country program. Our first lecture was with P?taka Moore, who gave us some insight into Maori culture and knowledge systems. He works with the Te Wananga O Raukawa (www.twor.ac.nz), which is the first Maori-operated institute of tertiary learning in New Zealand, similar to what we would call a university. Although we did not actually get to visit the Wananga, from what we learned from P?taka it sounds like a unique example of a successful indigenous academic institution that is respected by the mainstream culture yet still retains a distinctly Maori perspective and approach to education. That same day, we also learned about the controversial environmental effects of New Zealand’s dairy industry, which is a dominant force in their economy. Mike Joy, our lecturer, has done much research that contradicts the “clean and green” image so often attributed to his country.

In addition to the faculty lectures that provided foundational information on the topics to be explored during the NZ program, we were also visited by Gary and Emily Williams. They were kind enough to show us around their property, where they have implemented permaculture practices to restore native forest and grow food for sustenance.

Our next and final stop in the “introduction” phase was at Tainui Marae in Otaki. A marae can be roughly translated as a Maori community center. It is the traditional physical space that is used for ceremonies, celebrations, the welcoming of visitors, and other events. We only spent two nights there, but we were able to at least experience and learn a little bit about Maori culture, history, and contemporary issues. It was here that we first encountered the concept of “other ways of knowing” in the New Zealand context, and this would prove to be a main theme of our program. We also had a chance to share some of our culture during karaoke night at a local pub, although it is unlikely that any of us would call our spirited, somewhat off-key rendition of “Summer Nights” an example of “other ways of knowing.”

Leaving Tainui Marae, we made our way to the Massey University campus with a quick stop to look at the massive Te Apiti Wind farm (www.meridianenergy.co.nz) and to discuss the pros and cons of renewable energy. At Massey we came closer to a familiar university setting than at any other point on the trip: single dorm rooms, classes in an actual lecture hall (complete with frustrating projector and sound system), and a lounge with TV and foosball table to boot! The stay at Massey was a good comparison to the alternative education methods that we use on IHP, and it also provoked thoughts and discussion on our lives back home. We are often asked by our guests: “what do you plan to do with all of the knowledge you are gaining through these experiences?” Each of us is struggling with our own answers, and in New Zealand this question seemed to have greater weight on all of our minds because the socio-economic and cultural atmosphere is so similar to many of our own communities in the U.S. Maybe that was why our next experience with the Maori was such an emotional and spiritual revitalization – it really showed us a different and beautiful way of living and interacting with other people and with the natural world.

On the first of February, we left Massey for the Tirorangi Marae under the majestic Mount Ruapehu in Tongariro National Park. Our hosts were some of the most hospitable, kind-hearted, and inspirational people that we had stayed with. Each night, we literally spent hours with them just talking, sharing stories, and learning from one another. They showed us some of their most sacred places – Mount Ruapehu and Lake Rotokura – and explained why they are sacred, how they have been misused by the government and the commercial sector, and what is being done to respect and restore them. The stay was definitely a turning point for our group, both in terms of our interior dynamics and the way that we relate to the communities that host us. Although I hate to admit it, the fact that this was the first “indigenous” community that we stayed with in which everyone spoke English certainly facilitated the cross-cultural dialogue and allowed for us to better understand the profundity of both cultures. An important part of Maori tradition is knowing your own identity as a prerequisite to interacting with others. When we experimented with adopting this practice, it brought up a lot of issues for many of us: how do we self-identify? What role does our home’s natural environment play in this process? Where does our ancestry fit into our customs, our knowledge, our behavior and our perspective on life? I cannot speak for the entire group, but suffice to say that the time at Tirorangi Marae was a definitive shift for each person in their own way – so be prepared to hear a lot of stories about it.

The following week was almost a 180° turn from the marae: urban as opposed to rural, living in smaller homestays with pakeha (kiwis of European descent) instead of Maori, and listening to lectures in formal academic setting as opposed to the long dialogues that transcended academics, ethics, and existential philosophy. We returned to Wellington and went directly to our homestays, all of whom are members of New Zealand’s Green Party. On the first night many of us got a good dose of big-picture reality when we went to a screening of Leo DiCaprio’s environmental documentary/rant-a-thon “The Eleventh Hour.” It was, I believe, important to see the current state of the mainstream debate on climate change, seeing as most of what we encounter are the smaller-scale manifestations of – and responses to – environmental problems that are often rooted in larger changes. This week also coincided with the “Super Tuesday” primaries and caucuses, which provided an interesting background to what we learned in Wellington about New Zealand politics from various lecturers and from our discussion with the Green Party co-leader at his headquarters in Parliament.
During the week, we received lectures from an array of accomplished and fascinating people. Nicky Hager gave an optimistic and inspirational speech on how to be a political activist without becoming a jaded, cynical burnout. We were all listening intently, to say the least. Jessica Hutchings provided an interesting perspective on decolonizing methodologies in anthropological research, supplementing the lecture with her own personal experience as a non-heterosexual Maori woman. Stuart Turner delivered the first formal economics lecture that we had had in a while when he discussed the details of New Zealand’s Kyoto Protocol-inspired carbon trading scheme and how it works within the market system. Another notable speaker was John Hutchings (no relation to Jessica), who presented the other side of the dairy farming debate through a slick PowerPoint outlining just how “clean and green” Fonterra – the largest dairy corporation in NZ – actually is. In the context of Rethinking Globalization, however, everything that we learned about carbon trading schemes and the “sustainable” practices of large agro-industrial companies seems like a small step towards the change that is really necessary to address much larger problems.

Luckily, we ended the intellectually rigorous week in Wellington with a pirate-themed multiple-birthday party in the botanical gardens. The next day, everyone went their own way for to enjoy thoroughly the long vacation allotted us. Of course, we all spent the entire time studying and writing our papers. [Ahem.]

Reconvening in Nelson, we spent one jubilant night together in a hostel before packing up and heading out to stay with the Tui, an intentional community in Golden Bay, on the Northeast corner of the South Island. The location was beautiful, the food was great, and the classes were hands-on and practical, but overall we were a bit unnerved with the social dynamic of our host community. The alternative model manifested by the Tui contained elements that did not directly correlate with the somewhat utopian vision they spoke of. Many of us have been talking a lot about how to integrate what we have been learning into our own lives and our own communities, so in a sense this was a great look at the complexities of “living the alternative.” Please pardon the invasion of esoteric terms into my writing; after 6 months with the same people, we have almost invented our own language. “IHP-ese,” you might say. Not to worry, we all plan to work on our translation skills in Mexico.

For the final academic leg of our New Zealand experience, we split into two groups and spent six days on field trips in different parts of the South Island. One group looked at forest conservation, sustainable logging practices, innovative waste management, and Maori cultural and eco-tourism. They visited some National Parks, a carbon-neutral winery, and the small town of Kaikoura, famous for its whale-watching. The other group spent a week in the heart of Golden Bay. They visited all kinds of farms and small businesses – everything from permaculture plots to dairy pastures to a local organic brewery. When we reunited for the four-day retreat and synthesis, each group had many positive things to say about their respective trips. I wish I could go into more detail, as it was a definite highlight of the NZ program, but honestly there is just too much to say and my view would be biased because I only went on one trip.

We spent our final days madly writing papers, cooking our own food, and soaking up as much of Saachi (our Anthropology professor), Peter, Peter, and Monique as we could before they left. Each one of them had become a part of our IHP family, so it was especially difficult to say goodbye. Among his many qualities, we will most definitely miss Peter Bunyard’s dense and eloquent scientific explanations of global warming and his memorable performances on the Spanish guitar. We will miss Monique’s easygoing attitude, dry wit, and her organized, dependable commitment to her job (it ain’t easy being the assistant to a self-proclaimed “nutter” like Peter Horsley, ya know). Of course, we will miss Peter Horsley’s kiwi pride, goofy antics, and genial, down-to-earth accessibility. Finally, our beloved Savyasaachi, who had been with us since the start of the India program four full months ago, will also be sorely missed. Always ready with an inquisitive twinkle in his eye and a philosophical question or Heidegger reference to stimulate (or confuse) the discussion, Saachi was always there for us as our professor and friend.

Before we said our goodbyes, however, we readily adopted a “work hard, play hard” position and rewarded our strenuous efforts on several difficult papers with a party to remember. On our last night, we brought in a Chilean folk music band so we could dance, eat, drink, and be merry (not necessarily in that order). It was a good end to a good journey.

Reflecting back on our time in New Zealand, on the people, on the mountains, on the Jurassic-era fern forests, on the late-night convoluted conversations, and on the little moments of personal and community growth, I realize that a lot was crammed into a short span of time. At the same time, we still had enough unscheduled time to reflect, recharge and begin exploring ways to implement what we have learned into our lives back home. There has been so much to see, to hear, and to understand that at times it seems like all you can do is try to get through one day. But New Zealand did feel a bit smoother than Tanzania or India. My guess is that it is because we are all more used to the organized chaos of the schedule, better able to deal with the physical, emotional, and mental stress, and more familiar with each other. Learning to live as a community is an ongoing challenge, and I am honored to be in a group that is both intensely committed to addressing serious issues and is also ridiculously playful and full of good humor. We have come a long ways from D.C. I can only predict more unpredictable challenges, changes, and adventures to come in Mexico.

As they say in the N-Z, “Cheers, mate!”


India- Letter Home
2007-2008

Composed by IHP Trustees Fellow Maureen White

It’s hard to even know where to start in describing our experience here in India. In reflecting on our time here, I keep trying to think of a way to describe all the classes we’ve had and field trips we’ve been on. I think of the lectures in New Delhi on World Bank dam projects, globalized media, women’s issues, the role of religion in the country’s history, the concept of the nation state. I think of our visit to Gandhi’s ashram, of studying his philosophy and of snuggling up together in our sleeping bags at night to watch a film about his life. I think of our stay on Ajay and Yogini’s farm near Nagpur, studying the cotton economy and the ecological effects of genetically modified crops and the way that global economic forces are causing thousands of desperate Indian farmers to commit suicide each year. I think of our visits to a national park, a tiger reserve, a chikoo farm. I think about the many, many presentations from guest lecturers on the importance of biodiversity and its role in an urban context. I think of spending days on an organic farm, picking guavas and learning how to make biogas and seeing first hand how to make localism work. I think of our visits to tribal villages, learning about their art, music and dance, and their social movements to reclaim their land and livelihoods. I think of all the sights and sounds and smells that we have been experiencing, the traffic so insane that crossing the road feels like a high-risk activity, the strange contradiction of visiting a sleek shopping mall and then rounding the corner to see someone riding a camel. I think of the graciousness of our host families who take us into their homes and dress us in saris and teach us to make chapatti. I think of being transfixed by the music of a Sufi temple, of choking on the Delhi smog, of somehow magically not being sick of eating rice and dahl, of being so obviously foreign and having to endure constant curious stares, of getting lost in streets full of hawkers and brightly dressed women and the sheer crush of humanity. How on earth to convey all these things we have seen and heard? But somehow, as I sit here looking back on it all, I can’t help feeling like none of that is really the most important part of our experience. It has started to dawn on me, halfway through our program, that the most remarkable thing about this experience is actually our group itself, our little traveling community of students and teachers.

It’s not easy being in a group like ours- trying to get along with thirty other people through the stress of constantly packing and unpacking, settling into a place and then hitting the road, dealing with language barriers and culture shock, the lack of privacy and free time, and the strange experience of always being simultaneously tired and desperate to do more. We sit through lectures and field trips, sometimes eagerly and sometimes resignedly, trying to make sense of commodity chains and non-governmental organizations and the tensions between conservation areas and indigenous people’s rights to their land. We deal with broken-down buses on Christmas Eve and the frustration of having differing perspectives on whether class attendance should be optional or mandatory. Yet through the chaos of our zany journey, something beautiful begins to emerge. We begin to learn how to truly be in community with one another. After many false starts, we successfully use a consensus process so that no one is left out of decision making. We talk about how to step up or step back in our class discussions, so that we can share the space equally. We teach each other skills, which creates the space to think about how making our own notebooks or dyeing our own clothes or baking our own bread might be a way of subtly undermining the negative impacts of globalization. We take turns being silent for a day in order to better hear one another. We begin to see the importance of being patient and flexible with one another, and of sharing a good Bollywood film with one another. Together we experience the sadness of saying goodbye to a group member headed home to care for a sick relative, and together recognize the importance of throwing her a rockin’ party as a sendoff. We sit in awe of our group’s creativity, whose members make documentary films and radical magazines and beautiful artwork. We smile at the fun spirit of having meetings to plan a group presentation while swimming in the river, or of having a Christmas party at a miniature railway museum (yes, it’s a true story…) We create spaces to have important conversations about human rights and cultural identity and the relationship of people to nature, and in those spaces begin to explore the idea that maybe the way we are with each other in those conversations is even more important than whether or not we agree. We start to figure out how to hold each other accountable for our actions but to also be forgiving and loving; how to be true to our individuality and to also respect the group as a whole. Maybe all of these things are actually more important than the content of any lecture. Maybe in our search for alternatives to a world of misunderstanding and injustice, we have begun to create our own alternative. Maybe creating a community where no one gets left behind is really what rethinking globalization is about…



Tanzania – Letter Home
2007-2008

Composed by IHP Trustees Fellow Maureen White

Jambo! Greetings from Tanzania! We have had quite an experience in our seven weeks here, from the narrow streets of Zanzibar’s Stone Town to the wild savannahs of the north. While our Swahili is by no means great, we have managed to pick up a few words: Habari? How are you; Nzuri. I’m good; Asante sana. Thanks very much; Karibu. You are welcome; Mimi ni mwanafunzi. I am a student. Our clothing is starting to reflect the local fashion a bit more. In addition to jeans and t-shirts, we are also decked out in kangas (a type of sarong), colorful locally-made dresses, and beaded jewelry from the Maasailand. We’ve grown accustomed to the new popular genre of music, known as bongo flavor, and have discovered the joys of having fresh passion fruit, mango, and watermelon at nearly every meal!

Our program in Tanzania started with a week in Dar es Salaam where we had our classes at the local university. We covered a range of topics from the politics of foreign aid to the social and environmental effects of the mining industry. We also spent one day focusing on health issues, and visited a health-related youth organization as well as some local hospitals. One program highlight was a session on “theater for social development,” where we used singing, dancing, and acting as a way to explore and communicate social problems. Occasionally, we still break out into a round of “Sangaya,” the song and dance we learned; sometimes we perform it for people we meet.

In between our classes, we found time to make friends with some local folks- Rachel, the receptionist at the YMCA where we stayed; a few local musicians who led a workshop on African drumming and dance; and Sarafina, the friendly young woman who worked at the nearby bookshop. One night Sarafina invited eight of us to her home for dinner. Her apartment was one room with a shared kitchen in the hallway. The kitchen consisted of a kerosene stove, a pot of water from the tap in the front yard, and some pots and pans. We all sat together and talked and laughed as she showed us how to make ugali from corn meal and a number of different vegetable dishes. After eating, we all agreed it was one of the best meals we had ever had- despite the lack of fancy appliances!

After our first week we headed via ferry to Zanzibar, a semi-autonomous island off the coast of Tanzania. There we were greeted by our homestay families, and whisked off to see our homes for the next two weeks. We arrived during Eid, the four days marking the end of Ramadan, so there were huge festivals and celebrations all around Stone Town, a truly fun way to begin our stay there.

After a weekend of settling in with our host families and exploring the maze-like streets of the old city, we began our academic program. We focused on the intersection of development and ecological conservation: How does tourism affect coral reefs and marine mammals? Who benefits from the sale of harvested seaweed to multi-national corporations? Does the creation of a national park to protect mangrove forests help or hurt local livelihoods? With these questions in mind, we set out on three-day field trip to the southern part of the island.

We split into three groups of ten and each spent a day in the villages of Kizimkazi, Jozani, and Jambiani. In each village we explored local efforts to conserve the natural environment, and how those efforts complemented or conflicted with notions of “development.” While we had a few formal lectures, most of our learning came from our interactions with local people directly affected by these efforts: a family of women who farm seaweed for sale to the pharmaceutical industry; a fisherman who has to co-exist with a growing tourism industry; a local wildlife guide in the forest conservation area; a traditional medicine man who depends on the presence of local herbal plants; our host families in the villages. Perhaps the most important lesson was that issues surrounding development and conservation are quite complex, and that there are no easy answers when it comes to finding solutions that work for everyone.

Tired but happy, we returned to Stone Town for more classes and an independent research day. Our two weeks in Zanzibar had gone by quickly, and soon it was time to say goodbye to our host families. They saw us off at the ferry dock, and there were lots of hugs, kisses, and promises to stay in touch. Then it was back to the mainland and into northern Tanzania.

Our first stop was Mombo, where we spent two days studying the sisal economy. Sisal, a hearty plant whose fibers are used to make products such as carpets, is an important cash crop in this area. We visited a sisal farm and even got to try our hand at harvesting the plants (consensus: it’s hard! We all admired the women who made it look so easy). We toured two sisal processing plants. One was a typical plant, and the other was an innovative one that turns the waste from processing into biogas, electricity, and natural fertilizer. After a nice lunch with members of a sisal farming cooperative, we headed on to the town of Moshi to learn about coffee, another important cash crop. In addition to lectures, we were able to visit a coffee curing plant, a coffee farm, and the auction house where Tanzanian coffee is sold on the global market. The ability to see these elements of the global economy first-hand certainly added depth to our understanding of globalization and its effects on local communities.

As much as we liked Moshi (there was a café with iced coffee and bagels! And an ice-cream shop! What a treat!) it was time to move on to Arusha, a city at the foot of Mt. Meru. Arusha is home to the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, a court established to try the perpetrators of the Rwandan genocide. We visited the tribunal for a full morning, learning about its history and watching one of the trials in session. We witnessed a session in which the director of a dance company is accused of using his performances to incite killings during the genocide. Seeing this case unfold brought up interesting questions about the right to freedom of expression and how that fits into the larger context of human rights.

Finally it was time to try our hand at doing what most visitors do when they come to Tanzania- go on safari. We had a lovely few days checking out the wildlife in Lake Manyara National Park and the famed Ngorongoro Crater. Of course, this being IHP rather than a typical tourist excursion, we had a lecture on ecosystems while looking out over Lake Manyara, and a spirited discussion on the effects of ecotourism while sitting beside the hippo pool on the floor of the crater. We also had lots of questions for our guides about the creation of the national parks and how that lead to the displacement of the Maasai tribes who lived there. At night we camped out at Simba Camp, a great site perched on the rim of the crater. After spotting a few zebras near the bathroom facilities one night, we decided it was definitely the coolest campsite ever!

Our final destination after the parks was the Maasailand. The Maasai are a pastoralist people who live in parts of Eastern Africa. Our host community was in Terrat, a small village about 3 hours from Arusha. After camping the first night, we walked about an hour through the bush to the boma, or homestead, to meet our host families. Living in a two-room mud hut and helping care for livestock for three days certainly was a change of pace! We learned a lot about the challenges the Maasai face in an increasingly globalized world, particularly displacement from their land which was taken for the creation of national parks and ecotourism. We discussed the role of formal education in a pastoralist community, examined inequality and gender roles, and explored our views on the concept of moral relativism. On our last night, back at camp, we danced and sang with our Maasai hosts and shared a huge dinner- which included a goat that had been killed in our honor. All in all it was quite an experience!

Now we are busy wrapping up our Tanzania program, turning in assignments and synthesizing our learning so far. We are all looking forward to a (much deserved) week of vacation before we leave Tanzania behind and head for New Delhi!

Till India,
Maureen White

Washington D.C. – Letter Home
2007-2008

Composed by IHP Trustees Fellow Maureen White

The 2007-2008 Rethinking Globalization program has gotten off to a wonderful start! After ‘gently yet firmly’ asking parents to leave on our first day in Washington, D.C., we spent some time getting to know each other and asking all sorts of questions of the IHP alumni who joined us (What did you miss most about being away from home? What was it like living with home-stay families? Should I pack a pair of jeans or not???). After a delicious vegan dinner, we put on our packs and walked to our guesthouse, the lovely Adam’s Inn. It was only a 15 minute walk, but needless to say there was already discussion of lightening our loads by sending some things home!

Our orientation over the following three weeks set the stage for the year to come. Luckily, we were in town at just the right time to attend a conference hosted by the International Forum on Globalization. A full day of workshops and plenaries got us thinking about issues of global warming, energy use, and just how much the actions of the U.S. affect the rest of the world. Back in our classroom the next day, the students did a wonderful job of taking turns leading the sessions about the summer readings. Over the course of our time together we discussed everything from colonialism, biodiversity, and the history of economics to modern social movements, over-consumption, and cultural relativism. The conversations were rich and it was clear we have a lot of diverse ideas to share about this force we call globalization.

In between faculty lectures we hit the streets of D.C. for some field trips, site visits, and independent research. We explored the dominant paradigm of global development with officials at the World Bank, discussed the myths and realities of ‘sustainable development’ with Alan Thornhill, and heard about the international solidarity work of the Institute for Policy Studies. We had a wonderful session with James Early of the Smithsonian Center for Folklife and Cultural Heritage and began to practice our anthropological field work by ‘researching’ the culture of Capitol Hill. We learned about various approaches to environmental issues, from the local (a ‘green roof’ project organized by DC Greenworks) to the global (the efforts of non-profit organizations such as Conservation International.) Getting an inside look at so many important institutions was a great (and unique!) experience that we all appreciated.

Perhaps our favorite field trip was a visit to Polyface Farm, the ecologically sustainable farm featured in Michael Pollan’s book The Omnivore’s Dilemma. A drive through the beautiful rolling hills of Virginia brought us to the doorstep of farmer Joel Salatin, who describes himself as a “Christian libertarian environmentalist conservative.” He gave us a tour and taught us how he has implemented environmentally responsible practices at his family farm. We got to see his portable chicken coops, get up close and personal with his pigs, check out his cows’ diet, and hear his many, many words of wisdom. Since all of the food from his farm is sold and consumed locally, it was also a nice complement to our continuing discussions on rebuilding local economies. All in all it was a great day!

To cap off our orientation, we also got to hear from young organizers whose work is rooted in their own study abroad experiences. Emily Simons, an IHP alum, talked to us about the work she is doing with the Beehive Collective, a group of young folks in Maine who use visual arts to tell the stories of communities overseas who have been impacted by globalization. Several IHP students are already talking about joining the beehive when they return. We also learned from Chris Westcott how his organization, ENGAGE, builds networks of returned study abroad students to work in solidarity with communities they meet while traveling. Hearing from these energetic folks was a great way to remind ourselves that even though we are facing some overwhelming global issues, there are plenty of ways we can get involved to make change in the world.

In between all the academics, of course, we made sure to spend time getting to know each other and building our community. We played fun team building games and organized systems to meet various responsibilities. Students stepped up into leadership roles by teaching each other consensus decision-making processes, leading a discussion on the social construction of gender, and facilitating a session to synthesize our learning. There was also plenty of time spent hanging out in the inn’s beautiful garden (the site of our infamous head-shaving party—that’s right, there are now quite a few shaved heads in the group, and even a few mohawks). We had a blast exploring our neighborhood, Adam’s Morgan, and discovered lots of places for eating, dancing, renting bikes, doing yoga, and more. Many late nights were spent at the inn reading, talking, and watching the occasional movie together. We capped off our stay with a picnic dinner in a nearby park. It was potluck style, and everyone brought a food they thought they would miss while we are abroad. Needless to say, there was a lot of ice cream eaten.

After three weeks we felt we have built a solid foundation for our program. We covered a lot of ground, though for every question raised and answered two more appeared in its place. Luckily we have the next eight months together to continue learning and exploring. We’re ready to head out into the world and tackle globalization head on!

Until next time.