A Beautiful Soul

A Powerful Scream

There are a few people in each of our lives that leave such a mark that our lives becomes defined by their presence in it. The moments we spend in their presence prepare us for the battles that still lay ahead and heal our wounds from the wars we have already fought. The love they show us isn't earned, it never could be, and yet these beautiful souls show us love in a way we are hard pressed to find anywhere else. With just a few kind words they can alter the course of a day, change our moods for weeks, and lift our eyes to the future that rest just over the horizon. 

In the lives of those who work here at Alder's Ledge there is one such soul that we all cherish deeply. Her story is one that has touched us all in ways we could have never prepared ourselves for. Her actions, her words, and the way she looks at each new day are all a light that guides us. Because she has always been there for us in our times of need. She has always offered us comfort when we felt like giving up. And she never ask for anything in return. 

Each of us at Alder's Ledge have come to a point over these past few months where we have felt like we wanted to quite and just walk away. For me personally it has been a war between ending what I started and pushing past old scars. A sense of guilt for the seemingly selfishness of it all only made things worse. Yet there she was... ready to start our next chapter, together. Ready to fight the next battle right by my side even as I tried to push everyone else away. And yet there she was, my little sister.

So we are all still here...

And we are getting back to work...

But we all owe this to one beautiful soul with one powerful scream.

The Heart Of A Screamer

"...and if any one saved a life, it would be as if he saved the life of the whole people."

~The Holy Qur'an 

Several years ago I had the good fortune of meeting a young girl who's story never seemed to match the light that still shown in her eyes. When our mutual friend introduced us she had told me that this young girl had the heart of a screamer. At the time I thought being a screamer meant being loud and relentless... both of which I may still be. Yet here was a young lady who had suffered throughout her childhood some of the worst offenses anyone could imagine. And she saw the act of screaming in a way that would redefine it for all of us. 

Little sister may have grown up a Buddhist, like most people in her part of the world, yet the first thing she wanted me to know was her favorite verse from the Qur'an. I had asked her what "screaming" meant to her. That was all I had asked. And the answer was that quote from the Qur'an. She looked me in the eye and smiled as she quoted it. That smile that burns an impression on the soul itself with it's unique sincerity. 

Maybe it's the lack of such sincerity in the world today that makes her heart for the whole of mankind so refreshing. Maybe it's the beauty in her eyes when she smiles while helping others that lights up the staff at Alder's Ledge. For me it's just the love that we see radiate from her that changed everything about how Alder's Ledge operated. 

When we started we had a stern focus on the Holocaust and the Armenian Genocide. As funny as that is to realize looking back, seeing as how we started with one Jew (me) and not a single Armenian on staff... Yet looking back it is clear to see that we had a very narrow mission statement, to say the least. 

Then came our little sister...

All she had to do was introduce us to her story of how she was trafficked as a kid and we all changed how we screamed. Suddenly we started screaming about human trafficking because it had touched us personally. We wanted to partner with this amazing young woman who had already begun to change us in ways we hadn't even fully begun to realize. It's funny how that works when you meet someone like this... when they enter your life and start to change things you felt would never change. All she had to do was be the same wonderful woman she has always been. And in just doing that she was inspiring us all just by letting us see her gentle spirit... her love for others. 

We started talking about other genocides more and more. What one of us didn't know another would chip in and help teach us all. And for the most part our educations, all we had read over the years, and all we had learned from each other seemed to be missing one thing... something that is vital to screaming... 

A personal connection. 

A relationship with the people we so often looked at the "victims" or the subject of the conversation. It was this part that our little sister helped us with all those years ago. And still does on a daily basis. 

For me that lesson was made most evident by simply watching my beloved sister as she took it from just words and applied it in actions each day. I had always known that she took food, medicine, and other basic needs to street kids and prostitutes. What inspired me was knowing that she did so out of what little money she had. Here was a someone who had never had any money of her own all her life and was now able to earn some that she got to keep. But instead of doing what all the people her age do here where I live, she took that money sought to meet the needs of others before bothering with the things she might want for herself. 

When you see that, when you have a bond to someone like that, it makes you look at your own life differently. It makes it hard to tell yourself that you can't live without that next cup of coffee from the chain store or that next phone upgrade. It makes it hard to justify eating out every night or buying yet more clothes that you won't wear much anyway. After all, I'd always had more than I could ever need or really justify wanting. So seeing her selflessness created yet more change in a lot of us at Alder's Ledge.

With just the forming of that relationship our sister we were all growing closer and ever more focused on what it meant to be a "screamer". That one addition to our team all those years ago had created a change that now defines Alder's Ledge. Our relationship with our baby sister has defined who we all are today and how we work as a team. For that we are all thankful... for she is a blessing to each of us each and every day.

What Is A Screamer...

So what is a screamer?

We have always defined a screamer as someone who witnesses or becomes aware of genocide and refuses to remain silent. 

Sounds simple enough. All you have to do then is just get out there and raise hell till someone listens. Just go out there and make  your voice heard as you try to spread awareness of genocide. And yet if it was that easy then it would be far less effective. Because in all reality, nobody is going to listen to you just because you won't stop talking. In our modern world there is always the ability to mute, block, ignore, or un-friend you. People are less likely to listen in our world because all there is anymore is just noise. And if all you are doing is screaming... all you are doing is creating yet more noise. 

A screamer has to be able to make a connection between the genocide itself and the people he/she is trying to reach out to. The relationship between the crime and the witness is one that has to be made personal. It is one that has to be imprinted upon the heart of the witness for it to carry real weight in the daily life of those who are asked to bare witness to such a horrific crime. Otherwise the information given will elicit some sympathy right before it is forgotten and pushed aside. 

A screamer has to be able to view the world beyond the confines of religion, race, or nationality. There is nothing more hindering to reaching out to all of humanity than a world view that only sees people in given groups. This part of screaming means that you may have to admit your own prejudices and work past those views. If you are not able to make a personal connection with others beyond your own given religion, race, or nationality for any reason... your desire to scream will always be limited and that limitation will always be evident to everyone around you. This limitation makes any screaming you might do seem partisan and bias. Which in the end will turn more people away from the information you are trying to spread. 

A screamer must be able to stay committed to the act of screaming itself. Once you start to scream on behalf of any given cause you have to keep the fight up relentlessly. People who are watching you will notice if you start to jump from one cause to the next when things get hard or boring to you. There are countless people out there who will pick up on a "humanitarian cause" because it is the latest trend or a celebrity is preaching it at the time. If you want to scream you can't be seen as doing so because it's trendy. That alone is enough to make any information you are trying to get out there seem questionable. And it makes your sincere desire to help others seem fake in the eyes of those who watch you. 

A screamer has to know when to engage and when to bow out of a fight. Tenacity is good to a certain extent. While a screamer must be relentless, you can't become insensitive to the audience you are trying to reach. If your wording something in such a way that it no longer engages the people you are talking to but rather offends them... that is a moment to bow out and wait try again later. Timing is an art in reaching out to others when it comes to such subjects as genocide. You won't touch their heart if you can't first get past the defenses your audience will always have erected. Their prejudices and world view has to be taken into account before engaging. 

A screamer must have a network of others to help them, to hold them accountable, and to refresh their spirit in times of need. Whether you have other screamers to reach out to or just close friends, this is one of the most important parts of being a screamer. The people like our little sister here at Alder's Ledge make those rough patches easier and more survivable. We have watched countless others throw in the towel because they didn't have anyone else to help them... or refused help when they needed it most. The subjects we are screaming about take a toll on all of us. These subjects hurt emotionally and exhaust the soul. Thus, we all need the support of others to keep up this fight. 

On A Personal Note...

All of us here at Alder's Ledge would like to close this post by thanking our little sister for showing us just what it means to scream.

Thank you dear sister for always being there when we needed your support, your love, and the blessing of your friendship. Thank you for always being willing to listen to our problems and never judging us even when we deserved it. Thank you for always showing us what loving others is supposed to be like. But most of all, thank you for letting us be there when you needed us most... that is a blessing that each of us will forever remember.

In Their Footsteps

Retracing My Roots
Screamers Post

Gates To Hell

All my life I have had a conflicted relationship with the idea of Germany. When I close my eyes and think of that country all I can see are those images of my ancestors... emaciate, tormented, and waiting for the release of death. When I think of the German people I still have a hard time thinking of them as anything in particular. Yet when I think of their country... hate is the only thing that describes it.

Its odd how the legacy of genocide does that...


When I walked toward that crematorium a part of me couldn't help but feel the weight of where I was headed. My soul ached as the thoughts of my family who had made this walk before me rushed through my mind. Though their footsteps had been on Croatian soil, the fact that I was in Germany didn't make the pain any less. I had planned to visit Buchenwald because I felt it would somehow be easier than seeing the place my own family had been sent to die. Yet it wasn't... nothing prepares the heart for that long walk. Nothing prepares the soul for being there. Nothing.

Backtracking...

My family came to America by crossing through Europe till they finally found their way from the old world to the new. They were even poorer than I am now. Yet they did everything they could to make sure that their children and their children's children wouldn't have to live through that hell again. Spending every penny they had, those who could, they got out.

I wasn't born into freedom by chance. There has always been someone before me who fought to keep hope alive. I knew that the moment I boarded that plane and left for Germany. I knew that I was going back to a place my forefathers had struggled to leave. 

Those hills covered in blooming mustard were the things old painters dreamed of. The little villages tucked up along the hillsides with gentle streams all trickling back toward the Moselle River... that was the Germany my family crossed through. They passed those vineyards, those little countryside farms with sprawling pastures, those wooded valleys... none of which they could stop to enjoy. Yet there I was in this land that caused their pilgrimage out of Dalmatia. 

My journey would take me from London, the place that was too full for them to stay, to Germany, the place that had created hell on earth, to the home of my family. It was a short, yet bumpy, journey backwards through time. It was my way of going back to the places that made me who I am today. 

Almost Heaven

I arrived in Croatia in the dead of night. Zadar was only a short drive north of my family's old homeland. Yet the transition from that somewhat flat patch of land to those sacred mountains was evident to me even in the midst of that pitch black night. I felt like I was home in the shadows of those rocky mountainsides. 

Just south of Split I found where home was. Along the edge of the Adriatic, tucked up alongside olive trees and rocky outcroppings, I found where my family had lived all that time ago. Rosemary bushes and sage jutted upward from every spare patch of dirt those boulders of mountains seemed to offer somewhat reluctantly. This was heaven to me... almost. 

That first morning when I put on my tallit and prayed I couldn't help but think of how I was the first one in my family to be back here doing just this... It was a moment when my prayers stopped for just a moment as the reality of it all sat in. It was a moment where all my heart could find no better words to offer my Creator than a simple thank you. 

Walking out onto the balcony I stood there and looked over the sea and let it all sink in. To one side there were those mountains reaching out into the sea like and outstretched arm. To the other side was the sleepy village clinging tightly to the steep drop from the mountain road above us. For all it's beauty, for all the awe that had filled me... the sight of those mountains still reminded me why I was there. 

My family had been taken up into those very mountains. The Ustase had attempted to cleanse all of Dalmatia of it's Jews. Up in those mountains they had taken my ancestors to what could have been the end of my story. Those who didn't die there were sent north to camps. And those who were lucky enough to escape did everything they could to evade death as they walked the line between Bosnia and Croatia. 

I don't know the every detail of where and when the family members that did perish actually fell. The brutality of Croatia's genocide makes some things impossible to know for sure. But I do know the story of those closest to my own bloodline. And those were the stories that came to mind as I stood there looking up into the rocky faces of those mountains. That blood was still, in my mind at least, tainting this place that looked so much like paradise. 

Most of those who had lived here were killed outright. Those capable of making the journey north were later sent to Auschwitz and/or camps in the Ukraine. They weren't seen again. Between what the Ustase had already done and what Germany would do to them, they seemed to disappear into the industrialized death machine Hitler had created across Europe. Their stories are ones I still am searching for to this day. 

The one woman who's blood I still carry to this day did the unthinkable... she fought back. 

Surviving the pogroms, the rape, the torment, the wilderness, and Tito's war of liberation... her blood carried that desire to fight. Her legacy, her stubbornness, her tenacity; all of these things still linger even though she has long since passed away. 

I know I'm here today because when one person had every reason to surrender, every reason to just lay down and accept what seemed like fate, she decided to stand up. I'm here today because her unwillingness to look away from the suffering of her people in their greatest time of need. I'm here because in her darkest hour she decided to hold her head up high and do what she knew was right. 

She lived through things that I don't understand. She did things that I can only hope I would had been strong enough to do if I was in that same situation. She saw things that I'm not sure I could bare to see first hand. And yet here I am today.

Chasing Ghosts

When I left Croatia I knew that the hardest part of this journey was still ahead. I was going back to the Germany. And this time I was going to a place I hated more than anything else. This time I was following in the footsteps of those who stolen from us. This time I felt like I was chasing the ghosts my family had left behind. 

I had told myself that visiting Buchenwald would be different than actually finding the camps where they were taken. It would somehow be better than actually having to stand in those places where they were gassed, where they were worked to death, where their lives were forever extinguished by the hatred that had engulfed this land. Yet the moment I passed through those gates.... that moment when I ran my hand over the tattoo I had gotten to across my wrist to remind me of them... a part of me broke. 

We had walked along the railroad tracks that had carried prisoners into Buchenwald. Every time I blinked I could almost hear the carts rattling as their damned cargo struggled to breathe inside those cramped quarters. I glanced over to the parade grounds where the soon to be dead had once gathered to hear their death sentence. 

I looked to my right and saw the chimney reaching upward into the cloudy sky above. Rain trickled down across my forehead as my hair clung to my cheeks and the back of my neck. I couldn't help but think it was fitting that G-d had given us a rainy day upon which to visit such a wretched place. I almost thanked Him for setting the mood that had already settled over my heart days before. 

Then came the walk I had been dreading. I turned and headed straight for that crematorium. It was the longest walk I have ever taken in my life. What was barely 50 yards away felt like it was in an entirely different world all of it's own. Every step felt like I was going backward. Every heartbeat felt like it was breaking down what little strength I had left. And yet the realization of how many had made this trek before me made it impossible to pause. 

German Citizens Forced To Face

What Was Done In Their Name.

I entered the same way my ancestors would had done all those years ago. The stairwell down into the gas chamber was right there ahead of me. There was no way to mistake this place for showers. In Buchenwald the Germans hadn't tried to fool anyone that was forced to walk down there. This was simply a stairway down into the slaughter house. 

I entered the doors above and first went into the rooms where German doctors had performed experiments and lethal injections. Their tables were designed to catch the blood of their victims so as to make clean-up easier. There were still markings along the wall to measure their victims. The instruments of their torture chambers were still preserved. The methodical way in which the Germans had documented their callous crimes was evident everywhere you looked. 

For me however, this was just my way of easing into what still awaited me down the hallway. Just beyond those rooms sat the entire reason for this building. Rows of furnaces lined one side of that wretched place. These gates to hell were flung wide open for all to see just how the victims were cast away forever. A cart stood there to show how the task of disposing of a corpse was made only slightly easier... so as to speed the process up. 

When I entered that room I froze right there in front of that first furnace. For moments it didn't matter that there were people walking behind and all around me. For those moments all I could see was the open mouth of that tomb where flames had consumed my people. For those moments the world around me seemed alien. The hatred that had led to the creation of this place surrounded me. The stench of it still felt like it permeated that space regardless of how much time had passed. It was as though every soul that had passed through that gateway still cried out... pleading that we never forget. 

I finally found my place in time and the strength to keep walking. 

Down those stairs I went. 

Standing there in that gas chamber I felt like the family I had never known was suddenly fresh in my memory. I might not have been able to say that this was were uncle so and so had perished. But the thought of how many had found themselves in rooms like this was still there. The realization that this country, Germany, had put them in places like this was right there with me in that moment. Looking up at the hooks where their clothes had been hung before the gas was dropped in... I couldn't help but think about them. 

They may have died in camps to the east. This might not have been the room in which they were killed. And they may have very well been placed in open pits and burned in the open air. But this was the most common ending place. And this was the end for me.

A Never Ending Journey...

Walking the grounds of that camp I prayed that G-d would give me some understanding of why... I prayed that I could find some reason as to why this had all happened. I prayed that I could understand why this continues to happen. I prayed for the strength to keep up the fight my ancestors had left burning in my bones. 

It has taken a month of thinking about those prayers to find anything that resembles reconciliation with why I needed that trip. My ancestors may have perished almost an entire generation ago. They all may very well now be history to this world. But the struggle they had been forced into has not become history. That fight continues. And maybe, if only for my sake and the hope of making some sense of all this, just maybe... those who they left behind are the ones who should be fighting hardest. 

Looking toward Syria, Burma, North Korea, and all those darkened parts of our world; I can't help but think that those of us should be following in their footsteps...

Unlike them, however, we don't walk defiantly into the gates of hell this time. Instead we rush toward those killing fields to make sure that the next generation of survivors has a voice... the voice our own ancestors were almost denied. This time we stand between the persecuted and their tormentors. This time we intercede where others had failed to do so when our ancestors needed it most. 

The most astonishing thing you realize when you stand in places like Buchenwald is just how close these killing fields were to houses of common German citizens. The smoke from that chimney would had drifted over the village just downhill from Buchenwald. The people living in the shadow of that camp could not have escaped the reality of what was being done just one the other side of the treeline. 

Today the world has grown smaller. Killing fields are often just on the other side of our computer and television screens. Bosnia and Rwanda happened as the the world watched. We didn't have to have American GIs force us to walk past piles of dead bodies like in Buchenwald. We get nightly updates, we get tweets, we get news broadcasts... the death toll is always there on display. 

Looking toward those killing fields I can't help but think that this journey I've been on doesn't have an end. The legacy my ancestors left for me... this endless fight... that is something that this trip reminded me of most. 

Alder's Ledge takes it's name from my own family's history. We only exists as an organization because of what was done to my ancestors. We are only here because of the fire that burns within my bones... my soul. It is a fire that many of my staff have been given by their own ancestors as well. It is a legacy that we can't turn away from. And all we ask now is that you join us.

Want to know more?

Contact us on twitter: @alders_ledge & @AL_Staff

Rolling Thunder

(part of The Darkness Visible series)




In every pogrom there is a moment where the victimized community has to stop and ask themselves just how far this new wave of violence is going to go. Moments of terror crack like thunder in the hearts of those who wait to see if the violence will escalate further. These moments reverberate through the community in such a manner that one family's loss quickly becomes the sorrow of every household. As the blood continues to pour and the tragic losses continue to mount, the fear grows till it floods the hearts and souls of all those trapped by the violence.

At some point what starts as a one pogrom in one village or town tends to spread outward. With news of freshly spilled blood traveling faster today than ever before this tidal wave of terror rushes across the map. It breaks through every previous barrier that had once contained these outbreaks of savage violence. And the world now has no way of denying what we can all see so painfully clear.

Violence breeds more of itself. It feeds on the fear it creates within the communities it rips apart. With each outbreak it grows more brazen. Areas afflicted with genocide quickly become helpless to stop its spread as they buckle beneath it's weight. Unless those watching from the sidelines step in to break the cycle, this senseless violence will continue till it burns itself up and there is nothing left.

Rohingya Blogger has recently brought to light clear cases of pogroms that are rapidly spreading such terror across Maungdaw in the Arakan state of Myanmar. These incidents are brutal and savage cases of inhuman barbarism. They show the worst side of humanity as extreme elements of Burma's society work toward some of the darkest political and religious goals man could ever set. They show clear cases of genocidal intent to cleanse Burma of the Rohingya people through violent expulsion and/or outright slaughter.

On Monday (January 13th) Rohingya Blogger posted a piece by Democratic Voice of Burma that showed how the death of one man in Meikhtila had sparked "rumors that an outbreak of communal violence was imminent". Despite the police saying that this death was a family dispute and in no way connected to the racial divide within the community itself, there were concerns amongst some of Meikhtila's citizens. Only time, however, will tell if the spread of violence in other areas had anything to do with the spread of these rumors or if it is mere coincidence.

What we do know right now is that in the Arakan the thunder is rolling and the blood is spilling. There is no denying in these recent cases that the religious and ethnic divide is behind the new blood baths currently taking place. And despite Burma's best attempts to hide it's complete disregard to "restoring peace" the news of these pogroms is getting out. This is in part due to the diligence of dedicated screamers like those at Rohingya Blogger. 

On January 13th Maungdaw once again felt the first drops of blood as the pogroms began.

Rohingya Blogger reported (here) that on the night of January 13th, around 11pm, a police sergeant along with three police officers, the village administer, and five Rakhinese men entered Eastern Duchiradan village. Upon their arrival the group appears to have set out to spread terror amongst the Rohingya citizens. Their offenses included rape, looting of Rohingya property, and ultimately the killing of three Rohingya (including the rape victim). All of which was clearly meant to show the Rohingya that such acts are protected and collaborated with by the police themselves. There will be no legal reprisals or protection here.

This report by Rohingya Blogger was rapidly followed by even more detailed accounts of the extent of the pogrom in Duchiradan village. Reporting (here) from Rohingya Blogger spells out the atrocities that continued to mount in this now abandoned village. From the accounts given the Rohingya of Duchiradan have suffered mass executions, rapes, mutilations, torture, and mass arrests. Bodies of the slain, in customary form for Myanmar's officials, were taken from public view and buried in unmarked locations.

Today Duchiradan village is reported to be abandoned. The Rohingya who survived the pogrom have left their homes and joined the ever growing numbers of internally displaced peoples (IDPs) of Myanmar's Arakan state. Forced from their homes, these Rohingya were by all definitions ethnically cleansed from their village as the Rakhine (supported by Burmese police) take control of the area. This act is by definition genocide.

However this is not the only pogrom in the Maungdaw region.

Rohingya Blogger reported (here) that on January 15th in Baggona village tract a group of about 50 Rakhine attack Rohingya farm plots. The ethnic violence there has been growing as Rakhine from Kaye Myaing village reportedly carry out attacks against the Rohingya village of Baggona without intervention by Burmese police. The attacks are growing from property damage to physical assaults and prolonged torture of Rohingya caught by Rakhine mobs.

Terror is a weapon in and of itself. In Baggona the attacks not only deprive Rohingya of food security but also create a situation in which Rohingya farmers are terrified of returning to their fields. This lack of defense means that any Rohingya who wants to eat must risk violent attack or even death as Rakhine assailants attack with impunity. The terror that is created spreads as Rohingya notice both their vulnerability and a shrinking food supply (already minimal).

Yet the pogroms don't end here... after all, violence only breeds more of itself...

In another report Rohingya Blogger shared (here) a press release by BROUK about a pogrom in Kiladaung village on January 13th. In this press release are detailed accounts of Burmese military and security forces actively participating in the slaughter of seven Rohingya (including women and children) and the mass arrests of 100 Rohingya. It shows clearly that government forces within the Arakan state are actively participating in a campaign of ethnic cleansing intended to ultimately end their genocidal ambitions.

It is clear that the violence against Rohingya in the Arakan is once again reaching a flash point like those seen during the summer and fall of last year. And just as before, these incidents of government backed ethnic cleansing will not end without the direct and deliberate action by the world community and/or United Nations. If no external governmental organization intervenes this thunder will only grow into a raging storm... a storm that threatens the existence of a people, a culture, and their heritage.

For all you screamers who are reading this we are once again asking that you raise your voice in any way you can. Tweet, use status updates on Facebook, Instagram if you got it, Tumblr if you still use it, and any other social media site you can get your voice heard on. Yet we also ask that once you have screamed on there that you take that passion and start harassing your representatives in your respective government. Take that passion and petition your churches, your mosque, your temples and get them involved with organizations like Partners Relief and Development (info here). Use your outrage and get creative... if there is somebody who will listen (or that you can force to listen) then get out there and scream so that they will know.

Your voice is a weapon far greater than that of the terror these perpetrators of genocide are using. This indignant sense of moral outrage can be yielded just as effectively as any weapon of war. All it takes is for you to find your outlet and start applying yourself. It isn't always easy, it isn't always comfortable, but it is absolutely vital.

Come scream with us on twitter to learn more...

Find us at: @alders_ledge and @AL_Staff







Notes:

Rohingya Blogger
http://www.rohingyablogger.com/2014/01/police-and-rakhines-loot-and-rape-3.html#
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http://www.rohingyablogger.com/2014/01/rakhine-extremists-destroy-vegetable.html
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http://www.rohingyablogger.com/2014/01/press-release-7-rohingyas-killed.html
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http://www.rohingyablogger.com/2014/01/duchiradan-village-deserted-after.html

Partners Relief and Development
http://partnersworld.org/

Against All Odds

The Strength To Endure
(part of The Darkness Visible series)

Nowhere Left To Run.

Imagine for a moment that you have lost everything you have, everything you value, everything you cherish in this life. Imagine for a moment that the place you call home has been burned by your neighbors and all that remains is rubble and ash. Imagine that you have been driven from your house by people you once knew from what now seems like a previous life. Listen to their screams as they threaten you and your family. Listen to the malicious hatred they spew as they rip apart the life you at least felt comfortable living. Watch as they set your house to the torch and carry off any of your possessions they wish. Watch as they brutalize your family and friends as you run for safety. Watch as they turn into animals, engulfed in this barbaric orgy of violence, consumed by absolute hate. 

In pogroms this is how the hate needed for genocide manifest itself. It is a flash point where every last grudge, every vile word spoken beneath one's breath, every vengeful thought that has ever passed through their minds comes to fruition. In that moment the gates of hell itself fling open as the worse part of mankind is realized. It is in that moment that the savage side of our existence triumphs over our otherwise pacifist side. Love dies, if only for a moment, as hate replaces anything that once resembled civility.

In Bosnia the outbreak of war brought the opportunity for long held resentments to flourish as neighbor was pitted against neighbor. In Rwanda the machete felt it's first taste of blood as the long ignored warning signs faded beneath a crimson tide. In Burma... in the Arakan... this flash point was the exploitation of one tragedy so as to plunge an entire people into a far worse one. Yet in every case the reason for this spirally collapse of society was predictable. 

But this post isn't about pointing the blame... 

Today we look at what has happened since those flood gates were opened. 

Every year a tidal wave leaves the shores of the Arakan. Like clockwork, this human migration takes place without fail. Raggedy vessels that are barely seaworthy at all take to the waves as desperate souls hedge their bets upon uncertain means of escape. Each one of these Rohingya add to a collective that comprises a wave of refugees that risk their lives to run. But run to where?

Poseidon And The Dmōs

In the past the Rohingya had fished the very waters they now set out upon. Yet we should not fantasize that the Rohingya people now voyaging out onto the seas are seafaring individuals. These are people from all walks of life and with varying knowledge of what it takes to stay alive at sea. This act of bribing a vessel to carry them away from the Arakan is one of desperation. It is not one they seem to wish for or yearn for in any manner. This journey is a last resort for a broken people. 

Actual war, classically romanticized by the imagery of two sides battling it out, would be preferable to the hell that the Rohingya boat people are fleeing. Mass starvation and the constant threat of pogroms sends these people to the waves. Without the ability to find security back home they are forced to sacrifice everything for one last glimmer of hope. But what hope does the god of this ocean offer?

To first make it aboard a vessel the Rohingya refugees must pay their way. It is a heavy toll for a refugee that has either lost everything or sold everything in hopes of making this journey. They are either promised safe passage or a little light at the end of their tunnel. But any way about it they are taken for every last valuable possession they have just to leave their homeland.

Then the journey begins. 

Food, water, and fuel are not guaranteed. The owner of the vessel maximizes profits by offering nothing in the way of safety or comfort. The analogy between these vessels and slave ships of day past is not far from reality. Refugees on these boats are simply made to wait and see just how their luck will turn out. If the food or water disappears before a safe landing place is found... well, that is where prayers and a fading sense of hope fill the gap. 

For some the journey will end with the wrath of Poseidon himself. The seas upon which they travel can become treacherous for even the most experience sailors. And with the reality of their ship's limited seaworthiness made blatantly clear, hope for salvation must surely fade fast. For the sea is the least forgiving place on earth. It bears no mercy for mankind; it never has and never will. 

In 2012 there were an estimated 13,000 Rohingya who fled their homeland by sea. That year the UN High Commissioner for Refugees admitted to knowing at least 485 of these refugees had died at sea. Their deaths, no matter how unrecognized they might be, remain a testament to the harrowing journey their comrades had taken in fleeing Burma's grinding genocide in the Arakan. There is no justifiable reason why they had to die. 

As for those who live... for these hell may have just begun to open up.

If the vessel the refugees are aboard makes it's way to Thailand there are differing ways the journey could end. The devil beneath the waves gives way to the cruelty of man as the refugees watch their hope slip away. Either they will make it ashore and risk being sent back to Myanmar by Thai officials or something far more sinister awaits. 

Thai Navy ships in 2013 were reported to have opened fire on Rohingya refugees as their vessels raced toward the shore. These boats attempted to make their way to the beaches in hopes of slipping through the Thai defenses. When caught they were towed out to sea where they were left with little or no fuel. The intent on the part of the Thai Navy was clear... allow starvation and thirst to kill the refugees rather than let them make it back to the Thai coast. 

This strategy of "dealing with the boat people" has however given way to even more savage exercises by Thai officials and the Navy. In recent months the dirty secrets of Thai officials' involvement in the illegal trade of human flesh has come to light. Their open trafficking of Rohingya refugees was released to the world by brave journalist who risked their own freedoms on behalf of the beleaguered Rohingya people. The response to the boldness of their actions in this war against injustice was met immediately with retaliation by the Thai government. But the facts are already out there and the bell has already rang for all to hear. 

Where the Thai Navy had once dragged Rohingya back out to sea to die they are now handing them over to traffickers, for a fee of course. Where they had been shooting at Rohingya who dared to abandon ship and swim to shore they are now capturing them and selling them. The Thai officials had clearly discovered that there was a profit to be had if they only sold their own souls first. 

And then there are the Rohingya who make it ashore.

Hope must be a wonderful thing for those who can manage to obtain it and/or keep it through all of this. But I would be far to cynical to imagine that there isn't at least a few Rohingya who manage to hold onto that last glimmer of hope. Even after having survived more than most people could ever bare, I have to imagine that at least some Rohingya keep that hope alive. 

For those who come ashore there must be a moment where they feel relief. In that moment before the Thai military comes rushing toward them, that moment where the whole world lay stretched out before them... that must be the moment where hope still lives. 

If taken into custody by police in Thailand the Rohingya refugees are offered no sense of dignity. In cramp quarters with no access to toilets or a place to sleep, hundreds of Rohingya refugees are kept caged like animals by Thai police. They are considered illegal by the government of Thailand. They are given no opportunity to apply for asylum in Thailand. They are given no access to resources that other refugees would be granted. In Thailand the genocide that the Rohingya had risked everything to escape is alive and well. 

For many of these Rohingya the time in prison is a sort of limbo. They know that they are destined to be returned to Myanmar. They know that starvation and every form of indignity awaits them once they are taken back over the border. There really is no end the depravity that exist within the hearts and soul of the two nations actively participating in this genocide. 

In The Hand's Of Thanatos

Then there are those who cannot run. Those who are left to starve in camps, those who are left to wait for death at the hands of soldiers and mobs, those who are left to watch the world crumble around them. These are the masses of Rohingya who dare to simply exist upon the land of their ancestors. These are the Rohingya that take each breath with the hope that it wont be their last. 

Those who live in the camps wake up each day with the thought of where their next meal is coming from. They are left in a hellish condition of endless hunger. Mothers watch their children slowly dwindle before their eyes. Food, such a precious commodity, is not guaranteed from one day to the next. It is a resource that must be guarded and protected at all cost in a place where so little of it can be obtained. 

From the outbreak of the this latest wave of genocidal "ethnic violence" thousands of Rohingya have been forced into these ghettos. Burma has worsened their plight by labeling these refugee camps as illegal and therefore attempting rationalize the military's blockades of Rohingya camps and villages. Putting up barriers and posting guards, Myanmar almost immediately transformed refugee camps into concentration camps. The places where Rohingya had taken refuge from the violence became prisons.

In 2012 CNN reported upon the starvation that was (and still is) running rampant in Rohingya camps within the Arakan. In a report that consisted of kissing President Barack Obama's boots, CNN managed to at least point out that Rohingya citizens had been made homeless through pogroms (though CNN calls it "communal violence"). They managed to show the world that once placed in camps the Rohingya were being denied access to basic needs. And yet that is where the world community left off. 

In the months that followed the world ignored the plight of starving Rohingya as Burma continued to flirt with the Western powers. The promise of economic gains by appeasing Myanmar's rabid appetite for the ethnic cleansing of the Rohingya has stunted any response by outside governments. Agencies that are supposed to record and report such atrocities appeared to turn their eyes away as the world community gawked at figures like Aung San Suu Kyi. The desire to recognize genocide where and when it is occurring once again failed as we forgot those two words... "never again".

Once the camps were quarantined off by Burmese military and police the conditions for starvation were established. Having killed countless Rohingya in often staged pogroms, the state forces had permitted themselves an excuse to sell the world. This method of siege warfare was now "justified" in the eyes of the Burmese government due to the "threat of communal unrest". Death by starvation and disease was somehow preferable to actually reinstating the rule of law.

In many ghettos the blockades have not lifted. What little aid makes it to the Rohingya behind the barricades is not secure and can be taken away at any given time. Those living behind these barriers are subjected to every indignity the Burmese security forces wish to cast upon them. Organized rape of Rohingya women and girls is apparently permissible within the ranks of Myanmar's police and military. Forced labor is a common method of deteriorating the health and well-being of Rohingya men and boys. The goal here is the same as it was in Warsaw... a slow grinding death that lingers at the gates as those trapped inside pray for relief.

And then there is the threat of liquidation.

Warsaw had the option of resisting. It was an enigma in the ghetto system the Germans had established across Europe. But it did take that option. And for what little time those brave souls could... the fought like hell to survive the inevitable.

Places like Aung Mingalar had no such option. The ability to fight, the ability to resist, had been stripped away the moment the Burmese police established Aung Mingalar ghetto. Barbed wire and armed checkpoints were put in place and the residents of the ghetto searched for any weapons. Total totalitarian rule was put in place as Myanmar allowed conditions within the ghetto to rapidly deteriorate.

In August of 2013 Aung Mingalar's ghetto took the first steps toward liquidation. There may not have been and Auschwitz to which the Rohingya could be sent, but there were larger concentration camps away from the Buddhists inhabitants of Sittwe. Thus the hundreds of Rohingya forcibly moved from one hellish confine to the next could do little to stop the abuses they would endure.

Myanmar has received no real international condemnation or sanctions for it's abuses against Rohingya citizens. If a ghetto is to be liquidated in the same way the Nazi's did with Jewish ghettos, it is hard to believe at this point that the UN, EU, or United States would even bother to speak out. The behavior of treating the Rohingya like cattle has already been rewarded by the resounding sound of silence that has wafted across the globe in response to Burma's excesses. Since the events at Aung Mingalar were not punished it is likely that in the near future Myanmar's government could escalate it's offenses and move closer to the 1940's definition of liquidation.

As for now, those Rohingya still living under the oppressing weight of Myanmar's blockades must cling to life in any way they can manage. Water, food, medicine, and the basic needs of daily life must be scavenged or gone without. Children who should be in school will now grow up without any knowledge of what life should be like. Parents who should be providing for their families must now watch as what is left of them falls apart before their very eyes.

This isn't living...

It's simply existing from one day to the next.

Astraea's Death

In cases of ethnic cleansing during the 21st century the use of sexualized violence is often overlooked yet remains a hallmark of this barbaric crime. Bosnia and Rwanda showed the world that during acts of genocide women and children are particularly vulnerable. They not only suffer from outright killing but also from acts meant to leave permanent scars upon the targeted community as whole. And this is what rape, especially when used as a weapon, does to a community already fractured by genocide. 

Myanmar's use of rape has spread across every state where the military has engaged in what it calls war. In the Kachin the use of rape was implemented as a method of pushing the Kachin people off their homeland and thus giving access to the government to the resources upon which the Kachin sat. When used against the Shan it was unmistakeably utilized as a method of ethnic cleansing. And when put into practice in the Arakan state, this method of dehumanization was intended to allow troops to fragment what little sense of community the Rohingya people had left. 

Rape leaves the community vulnerable. This is especially true when the victims' families and community have no means of defense or access to legal reprisals against the assailants. When committed in this manner it violates the sense of security that both the woman and her family feel. This insecurity often manifest in distrust amongst members of the targeted community. And thus the fractures left by the initial crime begin to multiply.

For the Rohingya rape has been utilized in multiple ways. In many incidents it is used spontaneously as security forces come in contact with Rohingya trapped behind blockades or in camps. At other times it is used against Rohingya women who are already being used as forced labor. While in more sinister cases, becoming more frequently reported, it is used by the Burmese military in "rape camps" where Rohingya girls are abducted and forced into sexual slavery by the Burmese government. 

Rape camps were nearly perfected by the Serbian forces during the Bosnian Genocide. The use of these camps was meant to kill women through both physical and sexual abuse. Those who survived were intended to be rejected by their community. The potential offspring would be outright killed or allowed to live as a reminder to the Bosnian community of the crimes committed against them. It was in it's essence an absolute manifestation of the perverse nature of genocide and the complete lack of humanity it embodies. 

Burmese use of this crime once again highlights the world community's lack of teeth when dealing with violence committed against women and children. Our countless resolutions come up short when we never bother to put muscle behind the vague words we so often apply to worthless paper. And in the end it is the women of victimized communities that pay the highest price for our indifference to their suffering. 

"A man from NaSaKa [Burma’s border security force] came to my house. He kicked the door and told me I had to go and work as a sentry instead of my husband. I had to go immediately with my young child and without food. Later in the evening while I was at my post someone else from NaSaKa came. He told me "your husband is not there, I will stay with you; I want to live with you." That night the man raped me in the shed in front of my boy.

We [women] feel at peace in Bangladesh. There is no food and some problems, but there is no rape, we have peace."

~ 26 Year-old Rohingya Female Refugee In Bangladesh

These accounts are sadly the normal tales that come out of the Arakan. Rapist within the government's forces are not punished. Their crimes are encouraged by a country that wants to devalue the worth of an entire ethnic group. Their abuses are rewarded by a military that promotes excessive violence as a means of progress for Myanmar's future as a country. 

For those left to pick up the pieces after these attacks there are lasting affects of rape (no matter what the context). 

Rohingya women and girls who have been victimized will often remain silent in fear of the stigma that comes with the crime itself. Their willingness to speak up would bring direct condemnation from others in the community at large. In many cases the victim is blamed for the crime as the community itself seeks an answer why an unjustifiable crime was committed in the first place. And thus more motivation is created on the victims part to remain silent. 

Depression, anxiety, and withdrawing from others are all symptoms that hamper the victim's ability to help their community survive the stress of the overall genocide itself. If by chance these reactions to the rape culminate in the death of the victim the end goal of genocide is also achieved. 

For those who survive to carry on there is the question of why? Why did they have to suffer this wretched offense? Why they were left to carry on in silence? Why nobody cares and why nobody will help?

The Strength To Endure

When we set down to write up this piece we knew that this post would only be able to touch upon a portion of what the Rohingya people are suffering in Myanmar. We picked these three portions of the story so as to help those reading realize just what genocide looks like in Burma. You wont get the complete picture from us, we would never dream of being able to tell it all... it is just too vast a subject for any one post. But we did set down with one thing in mind; and that was to create a scream that the world will not be able to ignore. 

The Rohingya people are suffering a tragedy in slow motion as the world watches somewhat blindly and with a muted sense of outrage. We want to change that. We want to restore the hope that Myanmar is stripping from each and every Rohingya trapped under it's crushing weight. We seek to bring our voice like swords, cutting to the bone without remorse, so that those left defenseless have at least one ally on their side. 

Alder's Ledge is seeking to motivate our readers to get involved. For the past year this has been a struggle on our own part. We took some time away from this subject because we felt it was gaining traction amongst those who could help. Sadly, this hasn't happened yet. The Rohingya's plight is still worsening and our so called "activists" are losing the strength to keep up the fight. 

Our hope comes from individuals we have met along the way. 

In Thailand we have friends who live in just as much poverty as anyone here in the states could ever imagine. They struggle to keep their phones turned on as they work any given job to pay the next bill. Yet they give every spare bit of cash to the cause. And more importantly, they give every spare moment to the fight. 

In China, where the subject is barely ever spoken about, we have team members that take material we provide them into their communities and literally scream. They risk their own reputations in a country where that is almost 90% of their personal value within society. In their schools, in their work places, and in their neighborhoods they take our motto of screaming to it's most direct extent... making sure nobody can say they didn't know. And all this because the genocide which we speak of is happening just across their border and yet nobody around them bothers to wake-up and recognize it. 

Then there is twitter... 

For those reading this twitter may be the only way you feel you can reach out to the world and scream. It may be the last refuge for you to feel like somebody is listening. And if that is the case then we encourage you to scream... scream till your energy is gone, and then scream even longer. Your voice counts. Your effort will not go unnoticed. 

On twitter we have watched as people like Jamila Hanan (@JamilaHanan) toil away on behalf of the Rohingya people. Within the network that encircles great people like Jamila are others who take their voices and apply them to actions on and off the Internet. We have seen over the past year beautiful souls that have purchased food and other necessities that otherwise would had never made it to the Rohingya. We have watched dedicated warriors for the cause organize efforts to petition governments and agencies around the world on behalf of the Rohingya.  And all this because it's simply the right thing to do. 

So if you are reading this we aren't asking you to do these things because nobody else is. We are asking you to get involved because those already on the field are more than ready for reinforcements. We are asking that you contact us on twitter (@alders_ledge and @AL_Staff) so that we can point you toward people who are actively engaged in this struggle. We are asking that you lend yourself to the cause along with us.

Ready to do more than tweet or email?

Money is the root of all evil.

Or so that is what they say... In Myanmar it has been the driving force behind the silence of the world community at large. It keeps the Burmese military in the field as foreign investors pour cash into the genocidal government's back pocket. And yet it is the one thing that can make the difference between whether a Rohingya family eats or starves.

Chances are if you are reading this you have some of that said cash available after all your bills are paid each month. Chances are you spend some of that on things you really don't need. For example: name brand coffee, movie tickets, music downloads, or maybe even fast food. None of this really has to be purchased. And if you could spare any of your "wants" for some of what the Rohingya need... well why wouldn't you?

We here at Alder's Ledge make monthly donations to organizations that directly help the Rohingya people of Myanmar. Our team members are asked to provide whatever they can in our effort to put our money where our mouths are. We know that our words have power, but we also recognize that at times... this being one of them... cold hard cash speaks louder than good intended words.

One of our favorite organizations to provide our support to is Partners Relief and Development. You can learn more about Partners and how they help the Rohingya by clicking: here.

Once you have researched what organization you want to provide your financial support to we ask that you make this a habit. However often you can donate, please do so. Whatever you can give, please do so. Make it a part of your day to day life.

"A screamer is somebody who witnesses genocide and refuses to remain silent. 

How wonderful it would be if there were more screamers in the world today."

Want To Learn More?

Contact Alder's Ledge on Twitter: @AL_Staff

Source Documents

(note: not all listed)

Press TV

http://www.presstv.com/detail/2013/01/04/281765/13000-people-fled-myanmar-in-2012/
-
http://www.presstv.ir/detail/2013/12/29/342615/myanmar-uses-rohingyas-as-sex-slaves/ 

Radio Australia 

http://www.radioaustralia.net.au/international/radio/program/asia-pacific/thai-navy-lawsuit-threatens-media-freedom-hrw/1238492?autoplay=1238586

UNHCR

http://www.unhcr.org/5143076c9.html

Phuket Wan Tourists News

http://phuketwan.com/tourism/north-phuket-rohingya-tell-killings-beatings-nightmare-voyage-burma-19454/

-

http://phuketwan.com/tourism/2008-2013-five-years-hell-boatpeople-thailand-secretly-tries-options-19358/

-
http://phuketwan.com/tourism/mystery-flow-thousands-rohingya-thailand-deepens-families-flee-shelter-19529/

Time
http://world.time.com/2014/01/07/thailand-asked-to-end-rohingya-trafficking/

Human Rights Watch
http://www.hrw.org/news/2014/01/06/thailand-protect-rohingya-boat-children

Irrawaddy News
http://www.irrawaddy.org/rohingya/muslims-trapped-in-ghetto-after-clashes-in-burma.html

Fox News
http://www.foxnews.com/world/2013/08/24/myanmar-relocates-hundreds-residents-from-muslim-ghetto-to-refugee-camps/

Women Under Siege Project
http://www.womenundersiegeproject.org/conflicts/profile/burma

Burma Campaign UK
http://www.burmacampaign.org.uk/reports/License_to_rape.pdf

Kachin Women.org
http://www.kachinwomen.com/images/stories/publication/ongoing_iimpunity%20.pdf

Gifts Of The Spirit

Family Isn't Always Flesh And Blood
(The Darkness Visible series)

(Shan Refugees In Koung Jor Shan Refugee Camp)

(Image via Al Jazeera)

This post contains spiritual content that may not match the views of all Alder's Ledge's team members. The views contained here are not meant to evangelize or any given faith over another. The sharing of these views is meant only to challenge the notions of what it means to be a "screamer". These are for illustrative purposes and to help those reading get to know our staff a little better.

Every new year brings people around the world a sense of hope and the promise of a fresh start. We celebrate the passing of the old year as we envision a year of endless possibilities just around the corner. In the West we use champagne and long nights of parties to somewhat drown the sorrows that had come our way and forget the pain of the past year. Yet for refugees around the world there is no such relief. The sting of a endless years of sorrow has a way of blurring the line between one year and the next.

The Shan people who comprise the Koung Jor refugee camp, just north of Chiang Mai, Thailand, recently celebrated the Shan New Year for the first time in their camp of about 500 refugees. Some of these refugees have spent decades trying to remain invisible as war has ravaged their homeland. Pushed over the border by ruthless elements of Burma's government, these refugees have suffered every indignity Myanmar could bring upon them. They are victims of ethnic cleansing and yet during this celebration the irony of smiles and sincere moments of joy washed over the faces of these refugees.

We, in our homes halfway around the world, meanwhile prepare for a holiday season of overindulgence and purchasing of gifts we don't necessarily need. We lavish our friends and family with material wealth even when we don't need to. And all the while these displays we so often associate with our holidays have nothing to do with the meaning of those said occasions. No amount of gifts, no amount of food or drink, no amount of time spent shopping, or any amount of time preparing actually can be linked to the reasons we are supposed to be celebrating. All these excesses, however, do just the opposite as they wipe away our smiles and sincere moments of joy we should be finding in those holidays spent with family.

There is nothing noble about the downtrodden, they aren't really any different than you or I. The only difference is what they have been through. They didn't choose to be cast aside and abused by a nation of ideologically driven politicians. They didn't want to be driven from their homes and forced to become aliens in a foreign land. Yet here is the catch... the difference that makes all the difference in the world... they find the meaning of a holiday, a celebration, in the one thing that we all should always remember. Family.

Recently I celebrated Hanukkah with my family. Every year this holiday has the task of giving gifts much like those given at Christmas by our Christian friends. Yet it also has another blessing in it that can't be purchased and isn't received by the family G-d gave me... at least not in the traditional sense. This blessing, this gift of the spirit behind the holiday, is the bringing of light to a dark and cold world. It is the blessing of giving of both my time, money, and any other resources I might have to those in need. It is the part of this holiday that I have grown to love the most. For it is the part of this holiday that reminds me of what family really means.

Over the years I have found family in some of the most bizarre places. A sister in Thailand, China, Burma, Korea, England... A brother in Canada, California, Japan, Croatia... Everywhere I have turned G-d has shown me that there isn't a person alive that isn't my brother, my sister, my beloved family. Our color, our creed, our faith cannot matter to me. For inside my Master has placed a fire that burns without end, a love for a family that knows no borders or limits.

For this reason the chance to give of myself to those who need it most is one that surpasses any gift I could ever receive. That chance to help bring a smile a face that has been missing that feeling for far too long... that is what every holy day embodies. It is in this service to others that we find what G-d meant when He told us to love Him, fear Him, and be of service to Him.

My beloved sister, in all her wisdom for such a young soul, reminds me often that in her practice of Buddhism the idea of serving others is essential to the growth of the spirit. In her work to help others she revels in the opportunity to learn from others' experiences, both bad and good. And by coming alongside them she is able to help those in need as they get back on their feet. But more importantly, she finds what it means to be family even with those who aren't our own flesh and blood.

For our Muslim staff the command in their faith to give charitably is a major part of their holy days. I have always cherished the moments where I have gotten to celebrate with them. To give to their causes and come alongside them as a brother during these holy times.

And for our atheist members, some of our most bold screamers, the notion that we are all a family of sorts is just as relevant. They challenge me to look beyond my faith, my people, and my own limitations to find new ways to serve others. These members remind me constantly that we are all born with a desire to be happy, free, and to feel the love of others.

What better way to show that love than to serve?

The people of Burma are suffering in ways that most of us will never truly be able to understand. Children there have seen things that they should never have had to lived through. Mothers in Burma have had to watch their children die right before their eyes. Fathers have had to live with the humiliation of not being able to provide for their families. Sons have watched their mothers and sisters be raped by a military that uses sex as a weapon. Daughters have had to care for their siblings after their parents were slaughtered like animals by barbaric mobs.

Every minority in Myanmar has a long sad story to tell a world that is hellbent on remaining deaf. Their voices have been stifled by the greed of a world ready to exploit the newly opened up country in which they live. And for many, their very existence is placed in question as countless genocides continue to set Burma's countryside ablaze.

This is why your service to them, your family, is needed beyond what words can fully express.

There are several ways that you can get involved and start serving the Rohingya, Shan, Wa, Kachin, Karen, Chin, and other minorities in Burma. The first is rather simple, and that is to start reading every bit of information you can get your hands on. Learn their stories, learn their plight, and learn what the issues they face mean to them as a people. Take in every article, every report, and every tweet or blog post you can find about the suffering in Myanmar.

Next comes the work of any and all screamers...

Start spreading the articles and information you gather. By posting this information to your social media outlets you start the process of screaming. This starts by reaching out to your friends and contacts online. Yet it is just the start. You must take this information and start spreading it to people face to face. By having that one on one contact you have the ability to engage the other person not just on an intellectual basis but have the chance to put some heart into it... emotions after all, make the information stick.

Next you need to start contacting your government officials. If you are in America this means that you must contact your representatives in Congress. It means that you need to bombard your officials in your state house and your governor (many states will attempt to forge new economic relationships with Myanmar). You must keep your government officials accountable for their lack of action when dealing with ethnic cleansing and genocide.

This is just a start when it comes to serving of your times and energy. And many of us who scream on a regular basis do most of these things without relent. These are our daily struggle as we serve those the world so often forgets. Yet this isn't the only way we need to be serving our family, our fellow man.

Charitable giving isn't just a part of the holidays. It isn't something that need be waited for. It is something that we should be doing on a regular basis. And if you do, then let me take a moment to thank you for your selfless generosity. But for far too many of us there are times where we hold back and tell ourselves that our actions and effort is more than enough... but it isn't.

In a world where money is a god in it's own right the act of charity must be continuous. No matter how little it might be, the act of giving of our own wealth to those who are without is an act that blesses both the recipient and the donor alike. It is an act that should be done without seeking of recognition. It is an act that should be done without concern for what that money could had been used for in our own financial needs. It should be given freely and without stipulation. And it must be readily given without hesitation.

For those who would wish to do this during the holiday season we here at Alder's Ledge would like to invite you to join us as we give to Partners Relief & Development.

The wonderful people at Partners Relief & Development have been serving the people of Burma for years. Their endless work on behalf of the refugees and oppressed within Myanmar is the sort of service we all should strive for. It is a selfless giving to those most in need that gives freely and without reservation. People like Oddny Gumaer are personal role models to the staff here at Alder's Ledge.

You can learn more about Myanmar and give to Partners Relief & Development by visiting their website: partnersworld.org 

Please join us this holiday season in our efforts to scream for the oppressed and those in need across Myanmar. Your voice can help bring about an end to the suffering of thousands of refugees and internally displaced peoples in Burma. Your efforts can bring hope to those who have lived without it for decades. And your donations can keep vital workers in the field as they bring life saving medicines, food and water, and much needed help to the suffering in Myanmar.

Want to know more about becoming a screamer? 

Contact the author on twitter: @alders_ledge

Or a member of our staff: @AL_Staff

Source Documents 

(note: not all sources listed)

Partners Relief And Development
http://www.partnersworld.org/donate

Al Jazeera 

http://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/inpictures/2013/12/pictures-koung-jor-shan-refugee-camp-2013125114454995239.html

DVB

https://www.dvb.no/dvb-video/the-first-shan-new-year-in-kuong-jor-camp-burma-myanmar/35051

Bullets For Words

(PLUCK series)

Kike 

Nigger

Chink

Fag

Goy

Beaner

Hebe

Christ Killer

Coon

Cracker

Sand Nigger

Guido 

Paki

Gypsy 

Haji

Raghead

Spic

Wetback 

Yid

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. 

Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.” 

~ Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

All of these words have a certain way of hitting home for at least one or more members here at Alder's Ledge. They are cheap shots that we deal with daily. While out in public, while online, and even at home from time to time; these words have a way of falling upon the eardrums like a grenade. They sting like fire upon the soul as they prick at the flesh and drive up the will to fight. For each of us here at Alder's Ledge they are of course just words... but when we hear them they are like bullets.

Over the years of running this blog and maintaining a team of dedicated screamers we have endured every slur we could imagine and then some. At times we have had to look up a slur just to figure out what exactly we had been called. Yet for all the abuse we get we still remain dedicated. Our fight, our passion, our fire continue to grow as we work toward exposing genocides both past and present. 

As we have taken to one social media outlet after the other there is one thing we cannot ignore, no matter how hard we try. And that is the aspect of friendly fire as activists all around us take to the fight ever so viciously. While we applaud the effort, there is something to be said for turning our words... our bullets... upon our own.

Cannibalistic Peace

Outlets like Twitter are often nothing more than battlefields. Machine guns replace fingertips as bursts are set forth in 140 character bursts. And once those gun bursts are shot off for all to see, where there is no chance of taking them back, the person who fired first has no way to retreat. Whatever they felt was so important to merit their attack, either intentional or incidental, is permanently flying out there in cyber space. 

When it comes to activism on Twitter the machine gun is fed constantly with a chain of bullets offered up by the masses. This has the power to be used as a tool in fighting for justice. And yet it, like any weapon, has the capability to be turned on it's own. It is this aspect of firing off careless words in support of good causes that turns what could had been a good effort into friendly fire. 

For the main author of this blog that is highlighted mainly with the persistent mingling of the phrase "Zionism" with Judaism. This flirtation with blaming a collective over highlighting the individual makes sniping a religion more prevalent than attacking those who abuse it for their own advancement. It denies the diversity within Judaism, and yes... even the diversity amongst Israelis, so as to lump the target into a faceless mass where it can be culled. 

When you look at the use of one's words in this aspect the characteristics of war can be applied to every engagement. Whether we are truly trying to bunch up those we view as opponents or rather over simplifying the matter at hand doesn't make much of a difference once the first shots are fired. Once blood is drawn there isn't an opportunity to turn back.

For our Buddhists who work on this blog there is then the Rohingya issue that boils up hate speech targeting them. Most of our team members here who happen to be Buddhists are from Thailand and China. So the collective terms applied to them are not only applied through religion but geography as well. This helps every shot to sting just that much more as they delete our daily barrage of comments (note almost all comments are deleted anymore due to hate speech). 

"Buddhists in Burma have killed over 30,000 & raped women in front of their brothers for being Muslim, Those are the real terrorists."

 "Buddhists burn Muslims alive in Burma, yet we are the terrorists, right?"

"*All-h will punish Buddhists."

 

These are just portions of comments that often are seen in tweets as well. They are obviously hate filled rhetoric to us here at Alder's Ledge. Though some are founded out of a growing siege mentality amongst a small portion of Muslims we talk to, the hate behind them is unmistakable. And it is the hate within these excerpts that draws the battle lines and makes peace impossible. 

Our Buddhists team members are dedicated to combating the genocidal acts currently being perpetrated against the Rohingya and Kamen Muslims of Arakan, Burma. Many of our Buddhists team mates have worked with refugee agencies in their homeland and even within Myanmar. They practice their faith through their service to others, and this includes all religions and any ethnicity.

With that said the endless bombardment of their faith due to the hateful actions of a small minority within their faith. They have often expressed the feeling that their faith is singled out daily due to these individuals who wish to exploit Buddhism for nationalism rather than faith. For me personally, the irony of this feeling is something that can't be ignored. 

Buddhism and Islam both are supposed to be religions of peace and tolerance. When Muslims shoot off their opinion filled hate slogans against Buddhists it creates the same reaction these same Muslims have when being called terrorists. The sense of being attacked for their faith only rallies their will to resist and resist with unmistakable force. 

Yet retaliation should never be seen as justification by any means. 

Just because a certain individual decides to fire back doesn't mean that you were right all along. It means that much like you, the other person is simply human as well. When fired upon while trying to help the first reaction isn't to keep offering support but to rather withdraw and then counter attack. No human being is designed to run up a white flag when all they see around them are enemies. It just isn't natural. 

This creates a situation where those who are supposedly seeking peace are being subjected to friendly fire. The people that once welcomed them are now the ones sniping them from every direction. And just as it created a siege mentality in one community it creates much the same in the other. 

As the white flag comes down the flames go higher. And it is in this sort of fighting that we degenerate from peace on into cannibalism.

Irreversible Harm

Our team is comprised of thick skinned individuals. We take every abuse that comes with doing this job. And for the most part, we don't complain. Yet over the past week we have experienced the irreversible harm this friendly fire can create. 

Words are exactly like bullets in the sense that at times they do have the power to kill. 

A few weeks ago we posted an article called "Opting Out". The subject was important to a dear brother and friend who recently lost his battle with his demons. This struggle was one that many of us here at Alder's Ledge deal with or have dealt with over our years. It is a painful fight, a relentless siege of the mind, that those who fight it try desperately to hide. For that reason we decided to scream for those who are overcome by it. 

None of us were ready for him to leave us. But we don't get to go back and say goodbye. All we have now is the job to carry-on. Forever fighting, struggling, and screaming... just as he would be if he were here today. 

After writing that post with me our dear friend watched as hate mail began to pour in almost immediately. Most of what we see after post like that one aren't mere bullets but more like mortar shells. They have a way of eating away at our image of what humanity aught to be. They throw up dirt and smoke all around us as the hate clouds any sense of hope in our fellow man. 

Due to this the comment section is closed. 

We may never know why our friend left us. We may never know what those last moments were like, what was going through his head, or why we couldn't help. But I do know that the words he read, those he heard daily, and those we see constantly as a team all had their affect on how this ended. 

Before Pulling The Trigger

We all have a responsibility when it comes to speech in any form. The words we let loose are forever present in the minds and hearts of those who hear them. They have the power to heal or the power to kill. While a gentle word is like honey upon the lips of those who preach love and peace, those same words can be made harsh and become poison dripping from those same lips. 

In activism we have a responsibility not only to our own self but our cause. By firing off words tainted with hate we not only hurt those around us but damage the very cause we are trying to help prosper. With every word we speak out of anger, frustration, or hopelessness we create hostility in those we are supposed to be trying to reach. 

Before we speak, tweet, or update a status there should be a moment of questioning. We should think about how this will help or hurt our cause. We should think about how those who read or hear our voice will interpret what we are saying. After all, it isn't how we want to say something that really matters but rather how our audience will hear it and just how it will set upon their minds and hearts. 

We aught engage our audience with words that tug at their heart strings and not ones that burn like hot lead. This is how we win the battle for hearts and minds... with love, not hate.

*Note that the author of this blog post does not spell out the name of G-d due to religious observance.