Courage against Racism

Coretta Scott King, the widow of civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr., urged Congress in a letter to block the 1986 nomination of Jeff Sessions for federal judge, saying that allowing him to join the federal bench would “irreparably damage the work of my husband.” The letter, previously unavailable publicly, was obtained on Tuesday by The Washington Post.
(Read the full letter below)
The letter was read by courageous Elizabeth Warren. She was silenced and brought outside the Congress, where in the hall she went on reading the full letter which follows here:
“Anyone who has used the power of his office as United States Attorney to intimidate and chill the free exercise of the ballot by citizens should not be elevated to our courts,” King wrote in the cover page of her nine-page letter opposing Sessions’s nomination, which failed. “Mr. Sessions has used the awesome powers of his office in a shabby attempt to intimidate and frighten elderly black voters. For this reprehensible conduct, he should not be rewarded with a federal judgeship.”
Thirty years later, Sessions, now a senator, is again undergoing confirmation hearings as President-elect Donald Trump’s nominee for attorney general, and he is facing fierce opposition from civil rights groups.
In the letter, King writes that Sessions ascension to the federal bench “simply cannot be allowed to happen,” arguing that as a U.S. attorney, the Alabama lawmaker pursued “politically-motivated voting fraud prosecutions” and that he “lacks the temperament, fairness and judgment to be a federal judge.” She said Sessions’s conduct in prosecuting civil rights leaders in a voting-fraud case “raises serious questions about his commitment to the protection of the voting rights of all American citizens.”
“The irony of Mr. Sessions’ nomination is that, if confirmed, he will be given a life tenure for doing with a federal prosecution what the local sheriffs accomplished twenty years ago with clubs and cattle prods,” she wrote, later adding, “I believe his confirmation would have a devastating effect on not only the judicial system in Alabama, but also on the progress we have made toward fulfilling my husband’s dream.”

Great-grand-dad Cooper

What I found out or was told: Great-granddad Cooper was an Irish blacksmith who worked for the Yankee's during the civil war shooing their horses. One day they came upon an Native American Cree camp. One lady was working very hard and was not treated well. So Cooper took her back to Dayton, where she had eight children. It was always cozy in their home with the fire on for the blacksmithing. The first one to be born was our grandmother to be. At least that is what I could coble together or was hinted at by our mother. There must have been a Cooper too? But I wouldn't know how he would fit in... I think you know more about the family tree than I ever did. Our mother was full of secrets... She must have expected something else when she married our father John. She probably dreamed of an American kitchen and a washing machine or a real fridge and not a zinc tub with a block of ice. They lived with ten people then in a clap house, like the put on the reservations in Arizona: Too cold in winter, too hot in summer... They lived in there with ten people, plus me as a baby. When a nephew didn't do what she wanted she slapped him in the face. Aunt Louise remembers the incident clearly. It was probably that what made them leave. Dad had a good job with the railroad in Dayton. Louise never understood why he gave that up to leave Dayton. I seem to remember they went East, and ended up in Texas where fate did its work, for you as well as for me and our mother. I think our father has been a good father to Mark. He and my late husband Tony Mafia used to talk on the phone a lot. John always came across as caring, but after he and our mother split up, he too went through a rough spot for a while, till he found his way back to Dayton.  He remarried after a while and along came Mark. He writes, he has done a lot of linguistics at the university but except for his writing he didn't do much with his linguistics. No, that isn't true: he once gave me a language he had developed and which would come in handy in meeting aliens ; ).

PS: There should be a Gallagher somewhere. So maybe I am confusing the Cooper branch and the Gallaghers

My mother's books

My mother’s books

After my mother passed away, my stepfather said: you can take the English books away. I took them and have in the mean time read most of them. Some are by good authors like William Burroughs, Tennessee Williams, Irwin Shaw, James Michener, Pearl Buck, Truman Capote, Larry Mac Murthy and also Louisville Saturday by Margaret Long: soldiers and lonely women, love, ecstasy and heartbreak.

The rest: trash pure and unadulterated, rather sexualized trash. But then the other day I spotted a French book by Simone de Beauvoir. I could have that one too. My mother had had a good education, has been in a French speaking boarding school, so the language didn’t surprize me. The title: La femme rompue (The torn woman). It was the youngest book among the lot. I am reading it: it is a dark and troubled book, written very intelligent. The male/female relationships are dark and troubled dissecting also mothers and daughters. (In this case posthumously)

The book portrays the loneliness of relationships that once were vibrant and fulfilling, but leaves the main characters empty handed, empty hearted. The little noises of others being unpalatable and the loneliness unbearable. The main female character at the end can’t write as well as she could. There is lot of silence in the book, uncomfortable silence that is. Every relationship turns into a disappointment and thus loneliness settles deep in the soul. Silence in the conversations, which are not really an exchange, which leave one empty broken. I wonder how broken her spirit was, to the point of dementia. To the point of no return: terminal dementia.

High expectations of oneself do not come true in the book which kind of breaks, brings someone down. Why did she buy and read that book? She must have expected more from life, but with my stepfather she choose the safe road for her, although not for me. It is an intelligent book – what one would expect from Simone De Beauvoir. In nature once in while there is solace to be found and solitude. Yet in her life there is also too much solitude. My mother was a good-looking woman. And she could hold her drink. Men were drawn to her. She met Louis at the Century hotel where she worked as a telephone operator and he as an electrician.

Poverty in a rich country...

I don't mean the kind of poverty where children are in rags and begging in the streets. I am considering a rather rich country and how certain people do fall through the cracks. I know this family where the father now retired, had a good job and was a member of the city council. The two children have to fight the system. The administration a single mother has to go through to let her bright son, who just got his bachelor, do his master is nightmarish. I happened to listen to her reading a letter about about the fictive costs for his education that would be deducted from her allowance... although he is not getting that money it being a fictive calculation. Finding an apartment is altogether a different issue: there one has to be on a list of being interested in finding a place. That seems logical, but then the size if too large by just a few meter, would disqualify the person to get that apartment unless the extra square meters are sealed off... Some places are uninsulated attics, others are just  a few € over the maximum... and thus are denied to those who fall maybe a few € short. So life is a struggle for many people. And it is the grace of people, that they do not skimp, that they still are generous and warm. My friend has raised two wonderful boys, when I go and visit, she gives up her bed for me and sleeps on the sofa... She also manages to put good food on the table on a small budget. Some aspects are surreal.

Occupied city

Police patrol vans on both sides of the street, the military in the streets with para-commando's in full gear patrolling the neighborhood ... isn't quite something that makes me feel safe. Granted, I live at the edge of the Jewish quarter, cross it regularly walking the dog, going to the supermarket... I can't show you the pictures: it isn't even allowed to take a picture... It would be a bit intimidating if one would try. I think violence begets violence. Non-violence is the only way to live in a civilized society. Talking to all kinds of people and trying to understand the other is always a good start. Understanding the needs of an other human being makes one feel their anguish. Kindness doesn't kill. I know these words are poor in contrast to the beauty and respect I would want to share. Hate begins with exclusion, by being uncaring, unthinking of the plight of 'others'. We are all others, different and have the right to be so.
We would loose such beauty, such song, such poetry, such alternative ways of looking at the world, if we don't strive for inclusiveness.
The New years reception of the Flemish Fund for Letters was inclusive: Three writers who all three spoke a different local version of Arab talked and laughed and gave us great poetry and prose. One musician gave us foreign sounds and longings. This choice was just the right thing at the right time...
keeping the flame of hope and togetherness burning.

Twenty years after the genocide in Rwanda

 Kris Berwouts and Ivan Godfroid (right), both are Central Africa specialists. Twenty years after the genocide in Rwanda they are sharing their knowledge and feelings about what happened there and and what the situation in the region and in Rwanda itself is to date.

The basis for the discussion is Ivan's poetry book 'Omgewoelde aarde' (Disturbed earth). The book is in three sections. The first one with the motto: During the day Imana (god) roams over the earth, at night he comes to sleep in Rwanda. En deep expression of the beauty and peacefulness of the country. The second motto is: to where the river runs also the rocks roll. The unrest, the uneasiness, the doom is present. Every noise could be the last thing one hears... Foreboding and the reality of it. the third section opens with the motto: It is not the pain of the moment which kills but it's constant memory. The Oratorium for Rwanda was played and the contrast between the joyful strong rhythmic music we are used to hear with the deep inwardness and silence was chilling. Jean De Mey performed a beautiful and haunting improvisation rendering the screams and pain of those mad hundred days in 1994 in which 800.000 people were slaughtered in one hundred days. Rwanda is hauntingly beautiful country, machetes are still the tool of choice and are seen everywhere. Hope lies with the new post genocide generation. Yet overpopulation could destabilize the whole region including the North-east of Congo. Every twenty years the population doubles. Every twenty years there is less land per person to live off and  the seeds of new conflicts lay dormant, for now.

With tanks to tents

-->

Eye witness account about Gezi Park

We might remember the shocking images on TV about the demonstrations at Gezi Park inTaksim square in Istanbul. What we might not have realized is that also in Izmir and Ankara and the seaside resorts there were daily demonstrations for change, for more freedom, for a secular society. Basically it was a non-violent demonstration to protect ‘our’ lifestyle in Turkey, says Zeynep. Workers, students, intellectuals were in the street, on the square. Families with children stood there to show they want the park as a meeting point, protected the trees, stood for equality between men and women, the freedom to drink alcohol, against the forbidding of abortion. Men and women sat together on the benches in the park. Gezi Park became a focal point for those who claim the right to an individual life. Lawyers and the board of lawyers defended those who were arrested and accused. All places, cafés, bars opened their doors when protestors had to flee for the brutal police attacks, thus offering real protection to the protesters. Sexist slogans were erased and replaced by human slogans... people brought food and drinks to the square so that the protestors could stay. The sad statistic is: six young people died, eleven lost their eyesight through teargas, 1100 people are still suffering the consequences of the violence which wounded over 8.000 young people. The government never spoke about these brave young people but praised the way the police handled the squashing of the demonstration and protests. Journalist writing about it were sacked by their newspaper for reporting about Gezi Park. During the whole time TV aired documentaries about penguins ...

It was a spontaneous protest in defense of individual freedom. The protestors were not part of a political party but the protest was truly political.

Thank you Zeynep for your moving testimony!

May first - Antwerp Flanders Belgium

 Each in his or her own way participated in the first of May solidarity with the workers and needy of this world. Be it blowing up the red balloons to be released at the end of the march in front of the town hall. Be it a young boy from Chile carrying the flag high and proud.

There was also protest against the new right wing Mayor.
Three old ladies with balloons, happy to see the crowd walk by, old party members so they wouldn't miss this day. The crisis hits these people hard. Of course trade unions for the different sectors of industry were there and big foreign delegations from Latin America, from Kashmir, Sri Lanka and a real active and committed group with fun songs  carrying serious messages. And the Walloon comrades were welcome too...