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SPECIAL EDITION

Tim Carroll, Marty Storm Dyckes, and Frieda Fairburn (all 9) 63-65, did the Highlife.

NPCA cancelled the 40th Anniversary conference in Washington after September 11.  But, FON members felt the need to be together anyway.  We came by car, by plane, and by train from California, Massachusetts, Florida, Canada and places in between.  Friday night small groups gathered.  Clare Yates, (13) 64-66, (bottom) joined her Peace Corps roommate and ten others for an impromptu dinner at a downtown restaurant.  The Board met Saturday morning, and 75 FON members attended the afternoon Update Program at Sumner Museum.  At dusk, Sargent Shriver spoke to us at the Peace Vigil in front of the Lincoln memorial where all Country of Service flags were presented (top). 

Clare Yates, (13) 64-66, joined her Peace Corps roommate and ten others for an impromptu dinner at a downtown restaurant.

Saturday night we dined and danced in a northwest Washington church hall.  Anne Beaman (7) 63-65, not only wore a Nigerian dress, she remembered how to tie the head wrap. Tim Carroll, Marty Storm Dyckes, and Frieda Fairburn
(all 9) 63-65,  did  the Highlife.  And we talked, and talked,
and talked.  •

We Heard Updates On Nigeria

by Mike Goodkind, (16) 65-67

Some 75 RPCVs heard a former Senate staffer describe Nigeria as “a country of unfulfilled potential” cobbled by eight broad areas that hold back progress.

Pauline H. Baker, director of the nonprofit Washington-based Fund for Peace, told the Sept. 22 Remember Nigeria Day audience at the Sumner Museum in Washington that she had expected Nigeria “to take off and be what perhaps South Korea has become now.”

In the 60s, Pauline Baker expected Nigeria to "take off." It did not; but hope is not gone, she says.

Baker was followed on the  program—held despite cancellation of most Peace Corps 40^th Anniversary Celebration activities—by a panel of three experts on African art and literature:  Charles R. Larson, (4) 62-64 and Professor of Literature, American University; Roslyn A. Walker, Director of the Smithsonian Museum of African Art and veteran of living and working in Nigeria; and Richard Priebe, (12) 64-66 and Professor of English, Virginia Commonwealth University, Richmond.

Baker lived and worked in Nigeria from 1964 to 1975 and then served as staff director for the Africa Subcommittee of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. She described corruption and tribal rivalries as obstacles now worse than 60s volunteers might recall.

Other obstacles, such as the rise of Sharia [Muslem] law in the north and the enormous economic and social cost of AIDS, were unknown in the ‘60s.

Despite a pessimistic outlook, Baker left her audience with the hope that “Nigeria could turn around on a dime if they [the people] could believe in their leadership.” She also pointed to the resiliency and industry of the Nigerian people, the potential under Olusegun Obsanjo for democratic elections, and great natural resources as signs that “all hope is not gone.” But she discussed eight obstacles to progress.

Nationality

Since its borders were drawn in colonial days, Nigeria has been faced with creating a national identity from a diverse population representing more than 400 languages. However, the tensions wrought by illogical internal political boundaries have increased, she said, because post-independence elites have used the creation of states for political purposes—to divide and rule.

Revenue Distribution

The switch from a diverse agricultural economy to a “one-crop” oil economy has created a serious perception and reality that wealth is not distributed fairly. A good example is the unrest in the oil producing Niger Delta, where minority tribe residents don’t believe they are getting a fair share of oil benefits. The proliferation of states has also worsened the situation for smaller states that don’t have the clout to attract benefits from the oil economy.

Centralization of Power

A military government, an oil economy and marketing boards have centralized the distribution of both infrastructure and development funds. Federalism and resulting local power has eroded, and this has made states more dependent on handouts—and more vulnerable to inequitable and arbitrary revenue sharing.

Legitimacy of the State

Economic deprivation, corruption, flawed elections, coups, and the unusual brutality of former dictator Sani Abacha’s regime, have all eroded public perception

of the state as a beneficial entity. The state came to be seen as an obstacle to economic development.

Federal Character

The uneasy balance of northern political domination vs. southern economic domination became more chaotic in the wake of coups and national distrust. This has further destabilized the ability of the national government to speak and act for a broad populace.

Rise of Sharia Law

Counter to the constitution, one-third of the 36 states have adopted Muslim law which has exacerbated tensions between traditional Muslem and other religious  groups. The application of religious law has also negatively affected the federal judiciary’s effectiveness.

Other Internal Issues

An increase in crime, the decay of educational institutions, consumer and business power supply shortages, the deterioration of human rights, and the erosion of news media freedom have all worked counter to the growth of democracy and of economic well-being.

International Issues

Destabilizing incidents include the rise of Libya’s influence in the African Union, the specter of 5 million AIDS deaths in Nigeria during the next 10 years, recession, and erosion of Nigeria’s leadership role in Africa.

(L-R) Phil Peek, (11) 64-67, introduced panelists Richard Priebe, Charles Larson, and Roslyn Walker.

Following Baker, Priebe and Walker agreed that a breakdown in Nigeria’s educational system has caused book readership, particularly works by Nigerian authors, to decline markedly, especially in schools.

“We’re definitely not growing an African readership,” Larson said. Book costs are far beyond the means of almost all Nigerians, he added, and publisher subsidies for school-based use of novels has dried up.

However, Walker noted that university bookstore inventories have fluctuated from practically bereft of titles to a healthier selection she saw on a recent visit. She suggested that the current, less oppressive, national government might encourage both a more relaxed spirit and a healthier economic climate for the arts.

Instability appears to be driving authors and other artists to work as expatriates outside Nigeria. The panelists cited Ben Okri, who has lived outside the country, primarily in England, since his university days. He won Britain’s prestigious Booker Prize for Fiction in 1991 for The Famished Road.

Walker said the same situation holds true for arts and crafts. An indigenous tradition is being fostered outside Nigeria, she said.

Priebe said that while English-language literature is languishing, Francophone literature is flourishing in Africa and elsewhere.  •
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WE RE-UNED

by Linda Ecker, (9) 63-65

Well, we gathered anyway—the Nigeria crowd—and it was grand.

It began with a seminar at the Sumner Museum updating us on the current status of  things political and cultural in our country of service sans polemic of any kind.  Most remarkable, I thought.  And the comments and questions following made you proud—how thoughtful, how well-spoken, how filled with good will.  You knew we had grown up.  (Who was it who said, "Growing old is not the same as growing up?")

Old friends (L-R) Anne Philpot, Andy Orlin (13)( 65-67, and Andy Philpot (VSO 65-67) gathered under Nigeria's flat at the Peace Vigil by the Reflecting Pool.

There were couched references to "what happened last week."  These were without rancor, without passion.  Washington itself, to one who once lived there, was a ghost town.  That was the eeriest part to me.  Those broad empty boulevards, the wide streets nearly empty of traffic created an almost surreal cityscape, kind of like a Hopper painting.

The seminar was followed by an elegant wine and cheese reception organized by Harriet Lesser, (9) 63-65, curator of Charles Sumner Museum (and a fine artist herself).  There were smiles all 'round and glimmers of recognition.

The next event was the Returned Peace Corps Volunteers Vigil for those who died in the terrorist attack.  It was held by the Reflecting Pool below the Lincoln Memorial and facing the Washington Monument, a truly stunning vista.  Did L'Enfant lay this out, too?  I cannot imagine the most jaded cynic not being moved by this scene.

Sarge was there, in excellent voice, reminiscent of all the Kennedys and so of the era, our era.  There was some polemic here directed toward our government which made me a little tired.  The RPCVs finally got the mike, and the voice of reason was heard once more.  There were eight speakers, and in just about the middle, a great blue heron flew from behind the Lincoln Memorial and soared over the trees between the reflecting pool and the Viet Nam Memorial.  For me, this was worth the price of a ticket.

But probably the best part was the procession of flags representing all of the countries of service followed by the singing of The Star-Spangled Banner by folks who knew all the words.

Or maybe it was the Muslim who unfurled his prayer rug right in front of the reflecting pool in the very midst of the crowd and made his obeisance to Allah.  I was sitting on the grass not a stone's throw away and thought to myself, "Well, he knows it's safe here."  And then, honest to God, he rose and danced to what was described in the program as The Lord's Prayer in Bassa by Emmanuel Dadzie.   It did, indeed, have a very catchy beat.

Of course, the highlight of the day took place at night.  The party, THE reunion, which I must say was rather thrilling.  It was that one place where you could ask any one of a large number of people, "Where were you?" and the response, "Onitsha," or "Okene," actually would be familiar.  Well, maybe not "Okene", but you know what I mean.

Mostly people are embracing this aging thing.  And mostly we had to look twice to see "who was in there."  Once past that, the essence shone through, and we were right back to 1961 or '65 or '67.

I think I realized for the first time why we do this sort of thing.  We come to "re-une"—to become one— to affirm that we do not wander singly on this planet, that this little piece of experience that seemed so strange to some of us was, in fact, a shared experience.  In my little book of important things, I have this quote:

 

I know that we strive for this understanding toward all nations and creeds.  I believe this is the best and, perhaps, only way we can "bring the world back home" or whatever that elusive third Peace Corps goal is.  Chief Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes reflected that "all religion is summed up in the first two words of The Lord's Prayer:  Our Father...." 

When you pray, think about that.   And dance. •
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We Volunteered

by Mac Destler (2) 61-63

The invitation was not expected.  I had been a dues-paying and largely inactive member of NPCA and FON.  Suddenly I was asked to join the planning committee for “Nigeria Day” to take place as part of the 40th Anniversary RPCV conference.  Well, Peace Corps had been one of the defining experiences of my life, and the conference would be exactly 40 years after my first week in training.  So how could I refuse?

We got started early.  My emails tell me Larry Lesser, (9) 63-65, hosted the first early-evening meeting at his DC apartment on Sept. 26, 00.  I didn't recognize any of the other committee volunteers, but felt happy enough to be involved.  I wondered what my role would be.  Harriet Lesser,  (9) 63-65, soon agreed to serve as chair, and the venue for our monthly planning sessions shifted to the Charles Sumner Museum where she is curator.  NPCA had allotted Saturday for country-of-service reunions, and we quickly settled on a basic plan: forum in the afternoon, food and fun at night. 

Mac Deslter and Walter Lewis, (4) 62-64, turned out in Nigerian dress at the FON Reunion. Both served on the DC-Area Committee that planned for months for the event.

But questions abounded.    Most important, how many Nigeria volunteers and staff could we attract? Walter Lewis, (04) 62-64, took charge of food, making the rounds of West African restaurants in the Greater Washington area. Whitney Foster, (11) 64-66, and Herb Howe, (20) 66-67, took the lead in recruiting speakers.  Ron Raphael, (13) 64-66,  worked on getting out the word. Larry served as recording secretary.  I initially handled liaison with FON and was delighted to learn of the extensive email list.  I also worked with Marty Gleason, (02) 61-63, to contact my old Nsukka colleagues, determined to persuade as any as possible to come.  (I cared most about reconnecting with people from my group.)

The program was announced in the spring newsletter. Walter settled on a promising food provider, and had a test meal catered for one of our committee meetings.  Sumner Museum agreed to host the afternoon forum.  But as reservations approached 150, it quickly became clear that no suitable West African restaurant would be big enough to feed us.  Tim Carroll, (9) 63-65, helped us get a commitment in principle for the Nigerian Embassy to host the evening.  Eight days before the event—with the new embassy construction still not complete—the Ambassador agreed to pay to rent the meeting hall in northwest Washington and to grace our evening with his presence.

Everything was now in place:  the committee shared Harriet’s excitement!  But, literally, hours thereafter came devastating news: NPCA  postponed the conference.  Would Remember Nigeria Day be a casualty of September 11 as well?

At first it seemed so, and I for one was quite dispirited that Friday.  But, on second thought, some of us weren’t convinced.   Nigeria RPCVs could still celebrate our Peace Corps service—this seemed the right response to terrorism.  Making that case, I began sending emails with the title, “having our party anyway.”  I learned quickly that of the original 13 Nigeria 2 volunteers who had planned to come, 11 were still game.  FON Board and other volunteers got similar results as they feverishly worked the phones over the weekend.  By Sunday night the Committee and Board decided that Remember Nigeria Day would go on.  I was really happy about this, and even happier when my Nigeria 2 colleagues began arriving on Thursday.

Pauline Baker spoke at the forum, and a distinguished panel organized by Phil Peek (11) 64-66, treated Nigerian art and literature.  The catered West African dinner went off as well, with one slight complication.  When the 90-plus guests began arriving, there was no bartender in sight!  I—who had procured the spirits as my share of the eleventh-hour committee labors—suddenly found myself a bartender, proving that a college professor can also do other useful work!  Despite multiple efforts, we never got the Star, but Old Dominion, a Northern Virginia microbrew, proved popular as a substitute.  There was less dancing than there might have been—perhaps it was our age, or the lingering sadness of the calamity eleven days before.  But, we all felt very, very good that we had been able to surmount the obstacles and celebrate together.  •
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We Were Challenged Anew

Sargent Shriver, first Peace Corps Director, spoke at the Peace Vigil held by NPCA for Peace Corps Volunteers at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, DC , on Saturday, September 21, 2001.  Still vigorous and charismatic in his 80's, he called on us all to continue to serve. His complete remarks follow.

I'm glad most of all to see all of you. You, after all, are the heart, the soul, and the brains of the Peace Corps.  So, much as I love you and admire you, I think now we have reached a point where every one of us, me included, have great responsibilities facing us in the immediate future.  First of all, however, I would like to thank everyone who is here.  I would also like to thank all those persons who would like to be here. I pray also that my few remarks may be helpful to us all

I begin with a few sentences I spoke long ago, but they are still accurate and important, I believe, for our thinking today. These are the sentences: I recommend that we remember the beginning of the Peace Corps. We risked everything at our beginning in a leap of faith that the Peace Corps would succeed. We started in 1961—40 years ago.  We risked everything in a leap of faith that the volunteers would respond favorably to our call for peace. We opposed the idea that war is inevitable. We believed that with God's help we could get  rid of war.

We were a corps—a band of brothers and sisters—united in the conviction that if we worked hard enough to eradicate our fears and increase the outreach of our love we truly could avoid war and achieve peace within our own selves, within our nation, and around the world. How and why could we hope and dream for such results?  We could do so, I believe, because the Peace Corps seeks peace through service, not through economic strength or military power.

Service is at the heart and soul and substance of the Peace Corps. Service, however, is a discredited word these days. Who wants to be a servant?  No one. Service implies servitude—failure to achieve equality—let alone dominion. Yet the Peace Corps exists to serve—to care for our fellow human beings regardless of race, color, education or power.

The Peace Corps works it's magic from below not from above. It concentrates on basics—food, health, education, and community. Peace Corps Volunteers rarely see in capital cities what's going on with the potentates. They are almost un-American in their willingness to serve in the boondocks as Peace Corps Volunteers. They come home to the USA realizing that there are billions, yes billions of human beings, not enraptured by our pretensions, or our practices, or even our standards of conduct. Billions with whom we must live in peace. Peace Corps Volunteers learn that there is more to life than money - more to life than the latest styles and clothes, cars or cosmetics.

Suddenly, I realize I do have a response to the original title given me to talk about—the title was "The Challenge of the Peace Corps." The challenge, I believe, is simple—simple to express but difficult to fulfill. That challenge is expressed in these words:  PCV's, stay as you are.  Be servants of peace.  Work at home as you have worked abroad—humbly, persistently, intelligently. Weep with those who are sorrowful.  Care for  those who are sick.  Serve your wives, serve your husbands, serve your families, serve your neighbors, serve your cities, serve the poor, join others who also serve.  Serve, Serve, Serve.  That's the answer,  the objective, that's the challenge.

The reason that service is vital is because it will be the servants who end up serving us all—and I mean everybody on earth who serves in all the nations, serving even in the nations that are at war almost with us.  Service.  Service is the only thing that is going to keep the new world—as we grow closer and closer together—the only thing that will keep us together and not add more is service—service of us all—and that's the Peace Corps.  •
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We Reflected

by Ken Sale, (15) 65-67

Smoke from the September 11 calamitous attack still drifted skyward from the smoldering Pentagon as  the 40^th anniversary Peace Corps reunion  limped forward.  It was not the time for celebration—-a meeting or two, a commemoration and a prayer vigil only.  Living in Washington, D.C. for 30 years, I had never seen the city so desolate and silent.  National Airport was  closed, the tourists were safely at home.

Like others who came,  I  was hoping to see friends from 35 years ago. Some 100 came to the FON  dinner.  Most were former volunteers and a few former staff members.  The Nigerian Ambassador  arrived just in time for the food. 

The single digit groups were better represented than the double digit groups.  I talked with Jane Hoover Toby, (8) 63-65 who was a teacher in Benin City in the Midwest, relishing her Nigerian experience. After studying Italian and living in Italy a while, she  now teaches Italian language and  literature at SUNY New Paltz.  She told me of a coincidence at New York’s Penn Station, en route to Washington. 

Jane saw a  man and woman  she knew instinctively had to be Peace Corps souls like herself.  They were Robin and Al Ulmer, (3) 61-63, from Essex, NY, heading to the same reunion.  Starting with the Ulmers as traveling companions,   Jane was “inspired by the reunion  experience.”  If only for a few hours, she was able to be with others  who share the same passion that she has held for years.  Jane says that her soul  never really left Nigeria behind.  She still  keeps  in touch with former students and is working on a cookbook with one.

There wasn’t any  Star Beer at the dinner, but the food brought back Nigeria.  Fried plantain, the favorite, was gone before the serving line was through.  But egusi stew,  fufu, hot pepper chicken, moyin moyin, and baked fish were abundant.

Although I was the lone representative at the reunion for Nigeria 15 (65-67), I did catch up with Mike Goodkind, (16) 65-67, an Ag/RD guy at the same time.  After working as a journalist with AP, Mike’s  been at Stanford for a number of years doing public affairs work.  This was his first trip back to Washington in about 30 years, and he felt that the reunion helped put a lot of things in perspective—issues he’s reflected upon over the years.  Why he went into the Peace Corps in the first place—the meaning of it, did he really accomplish anything at all? 

After Mike talked to people at the reunion who had experiences he had, things came into sharper focus.   Having a sense of idealism was not only important back then, it’s still  important  to him today.  He said that, although we’re not teenagers any more,  idealism gives us the strength we need “to look forward” despite the calamitous September 11 attack on America.

The reunion was my first opportunity to catch up with Nigerian literature in almost 40 years.  According to colleagues who’ve become African literature scholars, it’s pretty much been a down hill slide since the 60’s.  I met Richard Priebe, (11) 64-66, who taught English in Ughelli.  He continued teaching African literature these past  35 years and was recently president of the African Literature Association.

“I owe my life to the Peace Corps,” he said.  “Those two years led to my career as an academic in African literature.”

Richard had a different take on “idealism” than Mike Goodkind.  “I don’t think any of us who went into the Peace Corps and stayed the duration were idealists.  I know there was a lot of talk of us as 'Kennedy children.'    I  never felt it at the time.  We knew all along we were getting something more out of the experience than we could possibly ever put in.  And yet, there is a sense, however undeveloped when you’re young, that you want the world to be a better place than when you found it.

“I’m glad I came,” Richard confessed.  “But I felt this reunion was a rather odd thing, made odder  yet by the horrific experience of September 11. When I drove into Washington, I cried as I drove past the Pentagon.  I couldn’t help it.”

Many at the reunion talked about their Peace Corps experience as  having transformed their  lives.  They wanted to get together and see people for the reasons one wants to go to a homecoming:  to compare and see how each other lived  their lives.  It was definitely a gathering less about Nigeria than it was about the volunteers.  Many hope the 45^th reunion will be in happier times.  •

Before  September 11, the National Peace Corps Association had begun to focus on the importance of Returned Volunteers and Staff  being involved in advocacy—for Peace Corps and on foreign policy issues. In the following articles, two FON members reflect on September 11 and what it means in terms of our response as  Americans with a world view. 
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We Pondered

by Peter Hansen, (27) 66-68

Horrific events of September 11 are  etched in the memories of us all.   Unfortunately, for many, emotions are preventing a reasoned conversation.

“Why do they hate us?” headlines a Christian Science Monitor special report.  Officials say the terrorists hate America because we love freedom and democracy.  However, many would suggest that a very misguided American foreign policy has invited the widespread hatred.  Although nothing can justify the actions of the September 11 terrorists, America needs to revaluate its foreign policy goals. 

Throughout the cold war, US support for foreign governments depended principally upon the degree to which they were:  (1) anti-communist, (2) supportive of US positions on world bodies, e.g., the UN, and (3) supportive of US corporate interests.  Unfortunately, human rights and democratization were generally of almost inconsequential importance.

Consider the men whose regimes we have supported:  Mobutu Sese Seko (Zaire), Park Chung Hee (South Korea), Ferdinand Marcos (Philippines), Shah Reza Pahlevi (Iran), François and Jean Claude Duvalier (Haiti), Anastasio Somoza, Sr. and Jr. (Nicaragua), Alfredo Stroessner (Paraguay), and Generals Efrain Rios Mont (Guatemala), Manual Noriega (Panama), and Augusto Pinochet (Chile).

Some might argue that the US cannot simply install good governments, yet we seem to have had few qualms about installing bad governments.  It is surprising that anti-Americanism is not deeper and more widespread.  (Two East Timor medical students who stayed with us for a week this summer bore no malice towards the U.S. even though Henry Kissinger and Gerald Ford—who were in Jakarta hours before—approved the Indonesian invasion of East Timor

Of concern to many in the Islamic world are our economic sanctions on Iraq and Iran, the one-sidedness of our involvement in the 50-year-old Israeli-Palestinian conflict, our stationing of troops and military hardware in Saudi Arabia, and our support for undemocratic Mid-eastern governments.

This does not imply that al-Qaeda terrorists believe in human rights and democracy.  It seems apparent that what they have in mind is much closer to the Taliban government of Afghanistan, or, at best, the government founded by Ayatollah Khomeini in Iran.  American foreign policy, however, has prepared the soil from which have sprouted the seeds sown by the terrorists.

The so-called “War on Terrorism” is too simplistic.  President Bush and his administration have called for the elimination of terrorism.  Terrorism, however, is endemic.  Does Bush wish to target the Tamil Tigers in Sri Lanka?  The Kurdistan Workers Party in Turkey?  The IRA in Northern Ireland?  Hamas and Hizballah in the Mideast?  The Hizb-ul Mujahideen in Kashmir?  The National Liberation Army and Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia?  The Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path) and Tupac Amaru Revolutionary Movement in Peru?  The Basque separatist group ETA in Spain?  Jonas Savimbi’s UNITA in Angola?  

Some may not agree that these are terrorist organizations.  Many Americans are sympathetic to the Chechen rebels.  Supporters of the Kurds would not accept a terrorist label for the PKK.  And, the U.S. government is probably reluctant to label Savimbi’s UNITA a terrorist organization – after supporting it  for many years.

What exactly is a terrorist organization?  One person’s terrorist is another person’s freedom fighter.  Who can forget that Americans  supported the Sandanistas (who overthrew Nicaragua's Somoza regime) and the Contras (who tried to overthrow the Sandanistas)?

Furthermore, can members of a nation’s uniformed military be terrorists?  Were not many of Hitler’s Waffen-SS troops terrorists?  This raises other discomforting questions.  Were the World War II fire-bombings of Dresden and Hamburg acts of terrorism?  Or what of Hiroshima and Nagasaki?  Were the women and children of these cities less innocent that the 5000+ Americans who were murdered in the World Trade Center?  Terrorism is not easily defined.

The “good versus evil” message emanating from Washington is too simplistic.  Our hands are not clean.  Uncle Sam is not Saint Sam.  Why do Americans not grieve for and express outrage at the 11,000 children who die daily from causes related to malnutrition?  That’s two World Trade Centers every day!  And why do Americans not call for a “War on Malnutrition?”  •
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We Looked At Ourselves

by Mike Goodkind, (16) 65-67

At 5:48 a.m. Pacific Time on September 11, I watched CNN while lumbering along on a cross-trainer at my local YMCA. Later I learned some lessons.

Ironically, the last CNN news item in the Old World As We Knew It was a frivolous piece on maternity fashions. The next image was smoke drifting lazily from an upper floor window in the World Trade Center.

“Some jerk in a Cessna probably got disoriented,” I mused, even though an eyewitness reported what he thought was a commercial airliner striking the building. Ridiculous, I thought, because initial damage appeared minor, and airliners don’t slam into buildings.

My darkest secret is that I walked off the cross-trainer and for the next hour or so continued my workout, glancing up only periodically.

As an insensitive guy, I wasn’t truly appalled until an hour or so later I heard reports that victims, faced with the horrific choice of death by fire or death by traumatic injury, jumped from the towers.

The terrible choice faced by fellow human beings—die in the fire or in a bone crushing fall—was the cymbal crash. It was Fay Wray, stalked by King Kong on the Empire State Building, screaming in terror.       Before I could even begin to put the event in any personal perspective, I had to take a look at why I reacted so distantly, even callously, at first. Understanding how I reacted has some instructional value, even for those more sensitive and enlightened than me.

First, unlike movies, television or good print fiction, there was no foreshadowing. CNN’s first pictures on CNN rolled without dramatic music, or cuts to frantic rescue workers. (In the first 30 to 60 minutes there were no victims at all.) If this were fiction, the maternity fashion piece might have been inserted ironically to foreshadow the horror. But this was real.

Looking back, there was, of course, foreshadowing, starting perhaps with an uninterrupted chain of hate beginning in the Middle Ages. Was this salvo against one of the United States’ most significant economic and geographic landmarks payback time for the Crusades, the arrogance of Europeans and later Americans for their uncanny ability to export violence? Was it payback for the past 30 years in which the United States, for many complicated reasons, has supported the wealthy elites seen as decadent and non-Islamic by millions of their unwilling and impoverished followers? These clues were muted by the simple fact that for Americans, violence, even when it affects our own countrymen, usually occurs in a foreign country or at least in a disreputable neighborhood. (The Columbine massacre was another notable exception).

After “The Day,” I thought about how real life events, including violence during the Biafran War, have lacked glamour in real time. Without imminent threat or at least dramatic foreshadowing, we are faced with an event that just doesn’t compute in our lives. If the horror does seep through, our minds may mute the reaction. I remember the one or two times I have been confronted with the sudden death of a friend. There is at least a moment of denial that a) the person is dead, and/or b) this is someone I know.

Days and weeks after September 11, however, I began to think of The Day as something which could make sense, however twisted, to persons of another culture—hungry children of Afghanistan pining for the food they saw in pictures from America.

I began slowly to relate September 11 to past experiences and context as I sat in the bar at the Hotel Washington 10 days later during the vestiges of the cancelled 40^th Anniversary Celebration of the Peace Corps.

The bar was vaguely reminiscent, particularly in the days after September 11, of capital bars I’ve seen in third world countries. The drinkers were mostly young—the age of most Peace Corps volunteers or GIs. I recalled in places such as wartime Vietnam, that no matter how pleasant or normal the trappings—even with ice cubes in the drinks—there was always the vague threat that at any moment a fireball could rage through the room. It’s not exactly fear; it’s more of a mindset, a constant buzz that eventually changes your outlook, your metabolism.

That is the reality we safe Americans must adjust to—not just in traffic, not just on a plane , but always.

Those who think the world will never be the same are not wrong. The world is the same; we here have just joined it. Ironically, September 11 might bring us closer to our fellow humans. So let us join them with compassion and understanding. This is particularly true as we begin our own payback in the mountains of Asia. We may not be able to see the victims of our bombings, but let’s not wait for them to metaphorically jump from the 80^th floor before realizing they are there.  •
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In The Shadow Of A Saint

reviewed by Bob Cohen, (4) 62-64

In the final chapters of this book, Ken Wiwa visits a few adult children of martyred heroes.  Sung San Suu Kyi,  the Burmese Nobel Prize-Winner, asks Ken of his father, " Was he a saint?"  "Well, not exactly," Ken replies.

 His response, even that tell-tale "well," characterizes the ambivalence and the struggle Ken Junior makes public in this search to understand his father's legacy.  How the private legacy of a father to his son, the eldest of his father's eight children by three women, merges with the public and political legacy, is what Ken Wiwa attempts to tell in this book.

What "exactly" we do know is that Ken Saro-Wiwa  was a willing and courageous martyr to a cause he, more  than any other, made his own: requiring environmental, human, and economic accountability of oil interests in Nigeria. 

His  son Ken, after years of estrangement from his father, takes on the daunting task of coming to terms with a man who neglected his wife and children, for some years, scattering his prodigious energies everywhere but in attention to his family.  Saro-Wiwa was clearly a hot-shot, a go-getter, perhaps a dilettante:  An entrepreneur, he owned and developed a chain of convenience stores, he wrote a newspaper column, novels, articles;  he authored, directed, and even acted in Nigerian television's most popular soap-opera, Bisi and Company.

But ultimately, he found his purpose and pursued it single-mindedly:  to stop the despoliation of Ogoni, its lands and people, by Shell and the Nigerian government.  After he masterminded the successful Ogoni protest march in January 1993, he gave himself completely to this struggle.  As the world knows, his efforts ended with his death by hanging in November 1995.  As with many such purposeful deaths,  the cause which took the life can be strengthened by the martyrdom.

Ken Wiwa gently and firmly sees his destiny as furthering the cause for which his father died.  We hear him making a decision to "pick up the mantle or pass up birthright."

In this memoir, which seems both a prologue to the future of Ken Junior and a memorial to his father, the son attempts to "find the man without compromising the myth."   In this, I think, he succeeds.    He shows us the man, even before he hitched his wagon to a purpose, blazing with energy, cocky, determined, full of himself and his literary arsenal, one of those many who came out of the University of Ibadan in the halcyon half-decade after independence, Nigeria, if not the world, their oyster. ("…the world was always at my feet.  I did not even have to plan a future.  Things happened to me…[God helped] me make a success of everything {or nearly everything} I touched.")   And after his self-conversion to the Ogoni cause, we are shown a Ken Saro-Wiwa sketched in the loving detail appropriate for a hagiography; his letters to son Ken from detention in Port Harcourt reveal the righteous, clear, and courageous man who had to be forgiven by his son.  A short chapter, "on the death of ken saro-wiwa," imagined by Wiwa, reads like a narrative of  Stations of the Cross.

Two main characters named Ken share the stage here.  How that stage is shared, how the lives of a father and son connect and disconnect, becomes the meta-theme of Ken Wiwa's book.   One does not come away from it particularly angry at the cast of  the villainous:  Abacha, Shell, and their minions.   Wiwa is, after all, and he proves it here, a writer, not a polemicist.

A homecoming visit to his grandparents is beautifully and lovingly rendered.  His meetings with the adult children of Nelson Mandela, Steven Biko, and Aun Sung, are recounted with a keen eye and a heavy heart, yet laced with some ironic distance.   In short, Ken Wiwa does his job well.

As we ponder America's dependence on the oil of the Middle East and the consequences of that dependence,  the consequences of Nigeria's oil-dependency loom large and grim from that corner of the world.  What is to be learned?  •
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Ken Wiwa:  Beginning Again

by Jane Toby, (8) 63-65

An activist and spokesman for Ogoni in a different way from his father, Ken Wiwa speaks to what he must do and what we all can do after his father's death:  what  possibilities there are for us who are concerned about Nigeria.

Toby:  Is there hope for the land, the culture, the waters of the Niger Delta?

Wiwa:  If you look at the consciousness of the Ogoni, it rose out of  opposition to the oil companies.  It's a curious way of the world in which actions happen.  Things haven't changed, but there is much more consciousness.  My father wrote 50 books.  But the greatest story he ever told was as an environmentalist.  I've just picked up and told that story.

Many groups are carrying out studies about what needs to happen in the Delta, and we need their research. There is a reluctance on the part of the oil companies to play a role in assessment of ecological damages.  They realize that they are culpable of every environmental abuse they can name.  There are people working towards the preservation of the ecology of the Delta, people who realize the importance of that ecosystem within world ecology, to try to force oil companies to act responsibly in maintaining that system. It's going to take some time to heal such a bruised place.  Everybody  has to come together. We have to account for the past before we can move  forward.  You have to be rigorously honest about your own past.  Some of our leaders and Shell are not prepared to do that.

My focus starts with my village, Ogoni.  If we can fund Ogoni students in some kind of ecological program—give them scholarships—the opportunity to  study the latest in ecological education abroad, this would be an essential starting point.

Toby:  Many Returned Peace Corps Volunteers would like to go back to Nigeria.  Would Americans be welcomed?

Wiwa:  There is a way in which you could be useful in Nigeria today.  One of the things that my father said, my own mission statement, as it were— he said that we need overseas assistance to help the situation.  Each time I go back home, this is amplified by what I  see happening.  The fact that the government is unwilling or incapable of delivering services to our people— running water, access to good secondary schools, health—this is an overriding concern.  I'm convinced more than ever that the only way we can help our community is to try to bring outside assistance. What  concerns me the most is the ongoing illiteracy that is happening right now.  I want to find a way in which to mobilize public opinion in the west--to provide some of the desperately needed services to our people.  It was one of my father's abiding hopes to establish a school in his name—a secondary school.  I've been working  gently towards that.  I'm trying to see if I can get people to help with that.

Toby:  What is Obasanjo’s government doing to help the Niger Delta?  Have the Ogoni been granted their Bill of Rights?

Wiwa:  There are still abuses of human and environmental rights.  The Ogoni have not  been granted their rights.  But, on the balance, you have to concede that any kind of democracy will pull way forward.  There is no way we can go smoothly from a military dictatorship.  Democracy now is a bastard child.  It will take time for that child.  What we need to do is give it a chance to work.  We've never had two consecutive democratic regimes in Nigeria.  Obasanjo is trying to do good.  You hope he is going to be part of the solution. Unfortunately, he is part and parcel of previous regimes that did horrible things to that country.  You have to negotiate your way through all that.  It is a holding operation for now.

Toby:  What about the U.S. law suit  you and your uncle brought against Shell in American courts?

Wiwa:  I don't think we would get justice in Nigeria.  Shell can influence the course of justice there.  We need an independent forum; we were told there was an opportunity to bring this case to NY under the Alien Tort Claims Act. We would like  to  bring to  light  a  number of issues that have been buried.  If that's all that happens, then justice will have been done.  The community needs to know what everyone's role was.  Whether or not there is  compensation is a side issue.  Now, no one is able to tell the truth.  But if  we can bring it out in an independent forum, then people will see what really happened.  I believe you can't have reconciliation without an assessment of the past.

Toby:  After your father’s death,  Shell launched a public relations campaign to spread doubts about his reputation.  Has Shell changed since then, since 1995?

Wiwa:  Shell is very much in denial.  Go to its Website.  It has a section on arts and culture of Nigeria.  It lists all the Nigerian writers—famous writers who have made a contribution to the country's culture.  It is conspicuous  they left my father out.  ▪
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On The Ground In Nigeria – July 2002

Editor's Note:  Since 1975, The Center for International Policy, a nonprofit educational and research organization, has  promoted U.S. foreign policy based on international cooperation, demilitarization and respect for basic human rights.  In late July the Center sent a fact-finding team to Nigeria to meet with high-level NGO and US government staff.  Paul Sack, former Director of Peace Corps/Tanzania and a Center Board member who has worked in a number of developing countries, was a member of the team.  This article is a condensation of his notes.

by Ellen Elliott, Staff  64-67

No one disputes the range and depth of the challenges Nigeria faces.  The most serious challenge is curtailing the corruption that continues to loot the country as evidenced by  the lack of public benefits from government oil revenues of $350 billion over the past 10 years. Additional challenges include an unprofessional and very corrupt military that is resisting change, the politics tied to President Obasanjo's run for re-election in 2003, the lack of transparency throughout the government, the continued "outsider" status of those who opposed Babangida and Abacha, the lack of local manufacturing and need to import almost everything, the disparity between the very rich and the vast number of poor, and some unreasonable World Bank and IMF decisions that thwart developing the local economy.

Encouraging signs include the prosecutions resulting from the work of two commissions investigating corruption—one related to land titles, the other to human rights.  People hope these prosecutions will continue.  Many people hope that democracy and an honest military will take hold over time—if corruption can be rooted out, and if Obasanjo is re-elected.

U.S. Ambassador Franklin Jetter says a top U.S. priority in Nigeria is to help the military "re-professionalize." Obasanjo is moving very slowly on military and other reforms, although he recently fired all the service chiefs.  Observers disagree whether Obasanjo just lacks  political power or whether he is not really interested in reforms.  MPRI, a private company made up of former US military officers,  is providing training to the Nigerian army with the Nigerian government paying half the $7m cost.  It is not clear if MPRI considers respect for human rights important.  A second priority is to train 3700 Nigerians for ECOWAS peacekeeping. The U.S. Army has over 250 personnel in Nigeria to provide this training. The U.S. may also offer a training program for the police, given the need to improve personal security before other national changes can occur in Nigeria.  

Other U.S. priorities include institution building—especially the judiciary and legislature, strengthening the economy, and improving the state-run economic institutions that give poor service and are a drain on public resources.

Embassy sources noted Nigerians' suspicion of the U.S. in the country and the lack of media to convey what the US is actually doing.  Military programs are particularly misunderstood as the Nigerian government has said nothing about them.  No local journalists are allowed on bases where training occurs, and MPRI contract information is secret.

There is a need for U.S. and Nigerian organizations to promote Africa-America trade.  The U.S. Congress recently passed a bill encouraging this trade. 

Aside from military and police training, USAID programs to promote democracy  include election administration, political party functioning, and NGO support.  Such programs are administered by contracting with US-based NGOs, although USAID has not been able to recruit enough Americans to supervise local work and finds Nigerians' skills not what their public presence would imply.   Nigerian NGO's, on the other hand, find subcontracting work to U.S. firms suspicious.  The Ambassador would like to discuss a return to direct funding of Nigerian NGOs if such groups can show the ability to comply with USAID's requirements in auditing, etc.

Nigerian NGOs are concerned that Obasanjo is ruling by decree, that he is not encouraging broad debate on the constitution and federation, and he is not even setting  up a process for doing so.  The present constitution, handed down by the military, creates central control.  Most Nigerians favor federalism.  NGOs feel that Obasanjo's efforts to curb corruption have been ineffective, crime is worse, there has been no effort to reform the judiciary or police, military justice is administered in secret, and there is no transparency of what their government is doing.  They are also suspicious of U.S. work to strengthen the Nigerian military which is not a priority to Nigerians.  Most Nigerians see the major problems with the military are its thievery and its violation of the  human rights.  •
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