Winds of Peace Foundation

Posted By Steve Sheppard on January 2, 2012

I had no more completed my December 5 entry here (“On Being Cooperative”) when I received notice that the New York Times had published an article authored by William Neuman about the state of the fair trade movement.  There is a schism forming which essentially would allow the larger producer plantations to participate in the fair trade designation.  The U.S. branch of Fair Trade favors their inclusion, suggesting that even more of the poor people who work on these plantations would benefit by the “trickle down” theory of wealth-sharing (my slant).  The folks at Fair Trade International oppose the change, citing the likelihood that the large farms will easily squeeze out the participation of small producers, the very people who were targeted for help in the fair trade movement.  (Take a look at the positions in the Times article.)

Timing is everything.  The Foundation’s primary collaborators on the work we have been doing with coffee cooperatives in Nicaragua had just completed an article about the development and challenges of coffee cooperatives when the Times article was published.  So after you’ve had the opportunity to read the relatively short Times article, take a look at the perspective of some folks who are working intimately with cooperatives at all levels: first, second and third-tier.  It makes for some interesting comparisons, and may help you decide which side of the fair trade argument you might be on.  It just may impact the way that you buy coffee or any other so-called fair trade products….

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Posted By Steve Sheppard on December 27, 2011

At this time of year I receive many newsletters and periodicals from other organizations who work within Nicaragua.  Most are headquartered somewhere in the United States but have staff or the majority of their operation within Nica.  I’m familiar with many, but not all, and I’m always interested to read about the good work that they are doing on behalf of the people of Nicaragua.

I know they are doing good work because they say so.  Their newsletters are full of pictures of partners who have either raised a successful crop, started a new business, raised some farm animals or otherwise benefitted from the presence of the donor.  I’ve even profiled some of our own partners here and elsewhere on the website as we attempt to share the methodologies and resulting successes (we hope) of our work.  It’s a natural outgrowth of organizations which, at some point in their work, need to justify their efforts and tout their results.  If they don’t, perhaps nobody will.

But as I have read these reports (often with a request for additional donations), I have increasingly found myself thinking beyond the efforts of the charitable organization and looked for the presence of Nicaraguans themselves.  They are always in the picture, if not within the focus, and it is their success and results which should matter more than the metrics of the donor organizations which support them.  I’m convinced that such is not always the case, particularly when I read what is being measured as success.

One of the hallmarks of Winds of Peace is the degree of accompaniment and follow-up involved in our partnering.  So we gain a pretty good, first-hand picture of the impact of funding, the efforts of the funded, the changes experienced, the goals attained and the objectives missed. We’ve had the experience of hearing governing boards explaining what went wrong in credit.  We’ve had boards of directors take us to worksites where the aspiring entrepreneur shows off the gains of his/her efforts.  We’ve experienced long and short-term successes, as well as long and short-term failures, taken some risks we shouldn’t have and perhaps rejected some proposals we should have supported.  Those realities are simply part of the work that we are in.  But we should never forget that we are merely facilitators, catalysts in this process of development, and that the real work is always the province of Nicaraguans.  It is their persistence, their tenacity, their commitments which make for our organizational metrics.  Even where the actions are provided from the outside, they require the engagement of Nicaraguan participants to make the effort work.

Our organizations might point to any number of successes in our colorful, uplifting media, but triumphs are truly not ours to sound.  The hard work- the good work, where it is being done- is performed by Nicaraguans whom we serve.  We might suggest that the work is really a partnership, that successes are shared benefits.  But let’s not lose sight of the fact that at the end of the day most of us return to lives that are stable, predictable, secure and relatively comfortable.  For most of our Nicaraguan partners, such respite is not the case.  The unpredictability, uncertainty and day-to-day reality makes for a very different context in which to execute the plans, provisions and outcomes that our carefully-considered projects have imagined.  Simply stated, it ain’t easy.

My post-holiday reflection may seem to be wandering here a bit.  But don’t misinterpret my thoughts: I deeply appreciate the work that is being done all over Nicaragua in a spirit of intense commitment and support by many outside organizations, including Winds of Peace.  It’s just that before accepting any kudos or pats on the back for whatever impacts may be made, we need to recognize where the hard work, the good work is being done, and by whom….

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Posted By Steve Sheppard on December 22, 2011

I spoke with my daughter this morning about upcoming preparations for the Christmas holiday and the things that are currently occupying her time.  Like the rest of us, she and her husband are busy with holiday tasks (some enjoyable and some less so), now with less than week remaining.  As both an attorney and a social worker, she also cited a few of the difficult circumstances with which she has become familiar over recent weeks: families with little to eat, children with few prospects for a Santa gift and parents who continue to fend off the stigma of unemployment during a very difficult employment environment (despite the assertions of certain political candidates).

At one point in the conversation, she observed her own discomforts of late, saying that despite the charitable gifts that she and her husband had made thus far during the season, she thought the gifts to be inadequate, insufficient, too insignificant to have any meaning for those who are in great need.   She wondered aloud if she was doing enough, whether she could be doing something more meaningful to make a difference in someone else’s life.  I noted that the tone of her voice had dropped rather dramatically by the time she came to this juncture as she envisioned just how enormous the “needs of others” really are at home in the U.S. and around the world.

Such reflections are not uncommon, perhaps especially at this time of year.  Yesterday morning my physician mused about the very same point, saying that he thinks of himself as an active “peace and justice guy” but  speculating about the threshold of sufficiency.  ”Do I literally give the shirt off my back?” he wondered.  ”How do I handle that with my own family?”  Wow!  Quite suddenly I have found myself surrounded by deep philosophical and moral questions relating to the poor.  Unfortunately, my own answers feel as insufficient as my daughter’s charity seems to her.

I suppose these kinds of topics come up due to the work that Winds of Peace Foundation has undertaken in working with the very poor in Nicaragua.  But I have yet to develop a satisfying answer to those who wonder if and how they could possibly make a dent in the needs of the world.  How can I even begin to clarify that question for others when it’s the same nagging uncertainty that I experience myself when confronted with the economic and social injustices that exist in the lives of those with whom we partner?  But as unsatisfying as it may be, I have acquired a perspective which at least allows me sufficient calm to get to sleep at night.

It is this: we are only and fully capable  of doing what we can do.  For Bill and Melinda Gates, the scope of monetary capacity is enormous and their resources can change the landscape of an entire region.  For a grade-school child, a visit to the local food shelf or nursing home can touch someone in ways that money cannot.  The nature or size of the gift is not how it’s value is measured.  Rather, it is measured against what we are capable of being or doing in someone else’s life.  It’s a cliched notion, of course, but it has only become trite through its universal and eternal truth.

I like to think of us as existing on a continuum, where every human being is placed according to his/her capacity to give, whether money, goods, time, spirit, or whatever else we have been blessed with.  We see ourselves as somehow being “ranked” on this continuum, thus frequently gazing upward and fantasizing about what it must be like to be “higher up” on the placements.  We fantasize about what we might be willing to do if only we possessed the money, the skills, the connections or the temperament of those higher up on the scale.  But what we must not lose sight of is that at that exact same moment, there are others on that continuum who are gazing upward at us, as well, and fantasizing about what they might be willing to do if only they could be in our shoes. Our reality is that we all have more to give than we do, more time than we admit, and a capacity for greater sacrifices to make without pain.

And perhaps greater responsibility than we like to admit.  The answer to the dilemma is to be found in our own hearts and minds, and will therefore be as different as we are from one another.  What we owe to ourselves- and the rest of the world around us- is an honest, thoughtful consideration of the quandry.  That exercise won’t guarantee the “right” answer, but we’ll never come even close to a right answer without asking the question….

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Tags: Charity, Sharing

Posted By Steve Sheppard on December 5, 2011

The United Nations General Assembly has declared 2012 as the International Year of Cooperatives, highlighting the contribution of cooperatives to socio-economic development, particularly their impact on poverty reduction, employment generation and social integration.  With the theme of “Cooperative Enterprises Build a Better World”, the Year seeks to encourage the growth and establishment of cooperatives all over the world. It also encourages individuals, communities and governments to recognize the agency of cooperatives in helping to achieve internationally agreed upon development goals, such as the Millennium Development Goals.                     -U.N. IYC Webpage Introduction

It’s about time.  Finally, there is light being shown on a methodology which has for too long been relegated to the very back pages of economic and organizational development.  Like one of its cousins in the U.S., employee ownership, cooperativism has the potential to create sustainable and meaningful change for organizations and individuals alike, and the U.N. declaration hopes to advance that awareness around the world.  I know that we will be taking note with our partners in Nicaragua.

The themes are entirely consistent with the focus and methodologies that Winds of Peace has employed over the past year, in particular:

Cooperatives are not a panacea or even a simple way of organizing an economic enterprise.  In fact, when done with excellence, coops are a more complex way of doing business.  There is a demand for more and better communication among the participants.  Participants come to expect more information about the causes-and-effects of their business, decisions are more frequently made by participant teams rather than one individual, participants expect to have a greater “say” in the business, the organizational configuration often more closely resembles a circle than a triangle, and coops as a result sometimes respond more slowly to changing circumstances.  But when done with excellence, coops can promote business growth, learning, entrepreneurial skills individual development and accelerated wealth creation faster than more traditional forms of ownership/management.  It’s why the U.N. has taken such a visible stand with its declaration.  And it’s why Winds of Peace has provided increasing support to the coops of Nicaragua.  The good news is that we know what the excellent practices consist of and that they can be learned and replicated anywhere.

Read the advantages cited by the IYC in its description of coop strengths:

• Cooperative enterprises build a better world.
• Cooperative enterprises are member owned, member serving and member driven
• Cooperatives empower people
• Cooperatives improve livelihoods and strengthen the economy
• Cooperatives enable sustainable development
• Cooperatives promote rural development
• Cooperatives balance both social and economic demands
• Cooperatives promote democratic principles
• Cooperatives and gender: a pathway out of poverty
• Cooperatives: a sustainable business model for youth

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Tags: Nicaragua Cooperative

Posted By Steve Sheppard on November 27, 2011

What if the lives we are living were not at all about how much we could earn, or what we could accumulate for ourselves, but rather about how much we could give away, sort of a “reverse competition” of life as we know it?  Would there be an intensity to our turmoil as we no sooner had given resources away but somebody else had unloaded their resources upon us?  The world might become a new “everyone for himself/herself” kind of place as we sought to outdo each other with our giving, and in the meantime each of us would have more than we wanted rather than less than we needed.

What if the idea of being in power pertained not to the ability to force one’s will on others- whether individuals, organizations, nations- but rather to be the one first in line to offer help, solace, sustenance, education.  Would the now-upside down nature of governments and corporations alike compete for recognition as the best among their peers in creating sustainability, sufficiency, and being the best stewards of the abundance that the world has to offer? The world might create a new definition of fame and fortune wherein leaders would be extolled for their servanthood instead of their domination.

What if the notion of having enough to eat referenced the minimal amount which we needed for sustenance rather than how many additional calories we were able to consume as a show of our success and abundance?  Would we not only not want a second helping of Thanksgiving dinner, but also feel insulted at the idea of eating more than was needed?  And what would that mean to our health?  The world might soon discover that food is not a symbol but a right of every living thing, and that as such, there is plenty of it on earth.

What if we were somehow able to view ourselves as all part of a magnificent quilt, whose beauty was comprised of different colors and textures which made for the exquisite whole, rather than exhausting ourselves in the pursuit of identifying differences which do not exist?  Would harnessing the strength of collaboration create a new source of atomic power  in the process?  Understanding how my own well-being is directly tied to the well-being of everyone else might cause a new form of fusion.  The world might suddenly find that its energy crisis had been quite different than it imagined beforehand.

What if we were born with the bias toward inclusion and regarded exclusion as some sort of abomination?  What if this was our only bias? Would we be able to see ourselves more clearly as a result, and thus know our place in the world, the universe, differently?  Would that make a difference? The world might discover a meaning and a purpose for itself which reaches far beyond the atmosphere of this very tiny place in the cosmos.

What if the questions here represented reality instead of sounding like fantasy?  How would my life be different?  What might have been my experiences in such a world?  What might I have known, learned, lived?

I find myself musing over such ” what if” questions from time to time, especially during the holidays when the blessings that I have received in my life are so particularly clear.  But it’s the perfect time of year to revisit such questions, as each of us seeks gifts to give, perfect and meaningful symbols of friendship and love, and preferably ones which have never been received before.  There are perfect gifts to be given.  They will not be found at midnight in a department store, but rather, deep within our psyches and waiting to be discovered and freely given, as they have been since the dawn of humankind.  It’s a new type of “shopping” that we must do if we truly seek the greatest bargain of all….

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Tags: economic crisis, Living with the Consequences

Posted By Steve Sheppard on November 23, 2011

After my most recent entry here (“Not A Nicaraguan,” posted 11-17-11), I got to thinking further about the reflection and wondered what is my objective in sharing my thoughts every week?  I suppose it finally dawned on me that a series of seemingly random, disconnected essays ought to have a goal to be achieved or an end in mind.  Being a writer at heart, I never really questioned myself about my purposes in opining here each week or so; a person who loves to write simply does it because he/she must.  And while I’m not obsessive about my written expressions, I do confess to a certain compulsion to write about the people and perspectives of Nicaragua.  So upon consideration of the question about my aims in writing here, I was able to figure out, at least in part, why I take the time to do this.

First, like all too many residents of the United States, I grew up and was educated in a cocoon of sorts.  While I understood that there was this thing called poverty in the world, I never had to come face-to-face with it.  Reading about it and perhaps participating in some safe, classroom discussions about it were as far as I was required to go in confronting the topic and that was just fine with me.  Once out of college, I married, set about the task of finding work, creating a career, having a family and pursuing my own part of the “American dream.”   Drawing upon those earlier, brief exposures to the reality of poverty in the world, I never lost sight of what I perceived to be my (limited) role in addressing it: charitable giving became an early and important part of our household budgeting, done comfortably at arm’s-length with a check through the mail.  But I never allowed myself to inch much closer to the truth of poverty.  In fact, I was never able to embrace the issue of poverty as my own responsibility  until I traveled to Central America and came face-to-face with live human beings immersed in need.  Then it became real.

Unfortunately, that’s the way it is with most of us.  Awareness is only afforded to those realities which are directly in front of us and which can therefore demand our attention.  But most of us will never travel to the poorest regions of the world.  And the only means by which I can address that reality is through sharing my own experiences from visits that I have had the good fortune to make.  The great sorrow and shame that is poverty in our world is too easy to overlook, too comfortable to forget, without some kinds of reminders to penetrate our consciousness.  I have family, friends, colleagues and acquaintances who have curiosity about Winds of Peace and who thus follow what I write here, so my entries provide one tiny pinprick of reminder about the contrast between our lives and the ones about which I write.  And that awareness is a necessity, whether it’s comprised of fifty readers or just one.

Second, I feel the need to put a face on all of this.  One of my difficulties in seeing poverty as belonging to me was the impersonality of it.  By remaining at safe distance, by relegating it to statistics and percentages and far-off lands, the issue could never become a personal one.  Throughout my entire high school years I did not personally know any poor person .  Churches were not yet creating opportunities for such encounters.  Holiday service opportunities, if they did exist, were unknown to me.  But when a young Nicaraguan boy, after seeing the photos of my own Korean-born children, asked me whether I might adopt him as well, the hook had been set in my heart.  My clear belief is that we all need such a hook, not because we are “bad” people ignoring the poor, but because we have not been given the chance to feel the heartbreak of impoverishment in the lives of others.  We’re all capable of feeling that connection and these essays are sometimes aimed at exactly that target.

Third, perhaps I am “selling” something, as well.  Wrapped up within the emotions and experiences described above is the hope that somehow I might reach someone else who is just like me at that earlier time.  That individual has remained insulated from the discomfort of an impoverished world, is someone who could be open to genuinely caring about the fate and future of people unknown to him/her, who simply needs a small push to be jostled from the comfort of a privileged life.  Maybe these reflections of mine could motivate even one person to step out from the shadows of insensibility to seize some greater responsibility for a humanity that is in tremendous need, not for solving all of the world’s problems, but for lightening the load for just one other life.

Fourth and finally, these entries are as much for me as they are for you, the readers.  Having had the chance to get close to the Nicaraguan reality, I have experienced what many travelers experience when confronting another space in the world.  My emotions run the gamut each time I’m in Nicaragua: I see despair, I hear great hope, I observe inspirational perseverance, I am frustrated by our human proclivities and shortsightedness.  I am disoriented every time I return to the United States.  I need days to step back into the perspective of an affluent North American when I know that I cannot entirely do so, not in light of the circumstances I have just left behind.  I order something from an Internet site with little more than a thought, and then find myself  weeping at the inequity of being able to do so. I am amazed at what my Nicaraguan connections have taught me, about a different society, alternative ways of looking at our world, our spirituality, our selves.  Writing about these juxtapositions is a healthy thing for me, an outlet to expunge some of the conflicting and unresolved emotions that inevitably come with getting close to people who are not just like me.  I have experienced more personal questing and growth in the past six years than in the previous twenty, thanks to the wisdom and lives of people whose language I do not even speak.  I know the need to express my gratitude and amazement at such an unanticipated transformation.

So there is my motivation for what you read here from time to time.  I doubt that it represents great writing, tight strategy, effective philanthropy or even observational sociology.  But if it provides even one insight about what is undeniably an injustice to the human condition- and therefore to ourselves- then the writing has been an appropriate use of time.  We are capable of being only as well as those who are around us.  That wellness is global in its scope and the strengthening begins one at a time….

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Posted By Steve Sheppard on November 17, 2011

I passed another of those milestones not long ago, euphemistically called employment anniversaries when they are little more than giant ticks of the clock.  For six years now I have had the privilege to represent Winds of Peace Foundation and talk with whoever might listen about the circumstances and causes-and-effects contributing to Nicaragua’s standing as the second poorest country in the Western Hemisphere.  It’s fantastic work, made especially so by the people I have encountered there, but also due to the continued presence of Founder/Patron Harold Nielsen, my colleague in Nicaragua Mark Lester, and the unwavering support of office administrator Bobbie Jones.  They have all made me feel as though I belong in this role, and from that posture I have become ever-more confident in representing the work that the Foundation has undertaken.

Part of that representation has taken the form of essays, or blogs, which I have placed here.  These musings have been a valuable asset for me to help sort out a multitude of mixed feelings that have occurred to me over these years.  Working between two very distinct cultures and world views, I have often encountered contradictory feelings on a wide range of issues, both political and social in nature.  Writing about such issues has helped me to process those feelings, as well as provide a forum for sharing them with people who have an interest in what Winds of Peace is doing.  I have logged over 100 of these meanderings here; for that I beg your pardon and indulgence.

So it was not unusual this week that I completed writing a piece in follow-up to the November general election in Nicaragua, one in which President Daniel Ortega was re-elected for another five years, to no one’s surprise.  A number of elements surrounding the election felt eerily similar to what I am experiencing here in the U.S. as our own election season gathers steam.  Consequently, I wrote about those similarities as I saw them and drew parallels between the two processes.  It was tough writing for me, and I never got into the flow of the essay in the way that I often do when composing.  When a chance conversation with Mark touched on the aftermath of the Nicaraguan election, I asked him whether he might review my essay and give me his thoughts, which he did.  (It’s not something I ask of Mark; the words are meant to be mine and, besides, Mark doesn’t need the extra work.)  His comments were excellent and presented from the perspective of a Nicaraguan, which he is.  As a result, I chose not to post the article, not because Mark “didn’t like it” or thought it was somehow inappropriate, but because reading it as a Nicaraguan was different than writing it as a North American.  For anyone intent on truly contributing to positive change in Nicaragua, that’s an Achilles heel.

I’ve spent a good deal of time and energy getting to know something about our neighbors to the south.  I’ve traveled there three or four times every year, I read periodicals written by Nicaraguan leaders and academics, I’ve come to know many of the issues facing our three primary partner groups: women, Indigenous people and the rural poor.  We have funded nearly two-hundred projects during my six years.  I even study Spanish (with some futility) so that I might understand more directly the difficulties being expressed by these tenacious and persevering people in their struggle for simply sustainable living.  Mark performs a yeoman’s duty to keep me informed of issues affecting Nicaraguan life.  I read books about the history and legacy of past years.  I do this because I am interested, because Winds of Peace does desire to make a positive impact in the lives of Nicaraguans.  But no matter the number of years nor the length of trips, I will never be Nicaraguan.

I cannot quickly absorb the lingering pains of a war which tore the country apart for so long.  I cannot re-live the seemingly endless natural disasters which have claimed so many lives and livelihoods.  I have not been trapped within a geography which has lent itself to invasion, occupation, exploitation and marginalization.  I have not known, truly lived, in poverty.  Likewise, I cannot feel the sense of familial antiquity, the honor of native generations spent in stewardship of ancestral lands or the pride of being Nicaraguan.  I can know these things, but I cannot live them.

As a result, I come dangerously close to presumption when trying to write with intimacy about political cause and effect, or religious motivation or social condition.  And I cross over the borderline if being prescriptive about how to create change.   My making judgments about the Nicaraguan election is an arrogance, because what I see and what I feel is filtered through my own life experiences, not that of a Nicaraguan.  In the end, comparisons I might feel inclined to make are valid only for me and my very personal perspective.  I have not earned the honor and the right to speak for Nicaraguans;  I can only offer my narrow opinion.  Nicaraguans are owed that respect.  And that’s why there is no election blog here this week, or ever.

As I reflect on these words, I am struck by another truth by extension.  Ultimately, speaking on behalf of ourselves is the best and most that any of us can do, because we do not truly walk in any other man’s or woman’s shoes, only our own.  We can articulate what we believe and why we believe it, we can model that belief and even proclaim why we might feel that someone else might be strengthened by it, but not why they must believe it.  There’s a big difference between those two approaches.  It’s one that I wish was more widely-recognized throughout our country as we seemingly become less tolerant day by day.

It’s one more belief I’ve learned from Nicaragua, and one which those of us who purport to offer assistance and leadership in any endeavor would do well to remember….

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Posted By Steve Sheppard on November 12, 2011

If you have been reading entries here during the past year, you already know that Winds of Peace Foundation has begun an education initiative in Nicaragua in the memory of Louise Nielsen.  (See the sidebar LVN Initiative on our homepage.)  We affectionately refer to it as the “Louise Initiative,” due to its focus on young women in particular and the fact that Louise had such strong feelings about the importance of education for young women everywhere.  We have funded several projects in this first year of the effort and hope to see some “first fruits” of the seeds that were planted over the coming months.  Having become exposed to the reality of Nicaraguan education, it’s a direction that truly feels “right” as a priority for us.

A good deal of what we have heard and read about the plight of Nicaraguan education has to do with the social implications of an undereducated nation. And it’s true that the limitations on education there have contributed mightily to many of the difficulties experienced.  When a large percentage of a nation’s population exits the education system before the fourth grade, social imbalances are certain to exist in ways that create hardships on the very society that permits the secession.  Matters of health, families, gender equality, sexual violence, substance abuse, and technology all impact national development in far-reaching ways, and require at least a minimum educational base for the people who will be required to step up to such issues.  Few would disagree that an educated populace will be far better equipped to address the issues than one which is not.

But the further I acquaint myself with education challenges of a place like Nicaragua,  the more clearly I understand that as great as the impact of undereducation is on social development, education is, at its core, an economic issue.  Simply put, those who are educated for the future are the only ones who will prosper in it.  And that requires financial investment, perseverance and patience on the part of the societies seeking such prosperity.

The days of making a living by virtue of a strong back and a willingness to get dirty are soon to be of the past, even in Nicaragua.  Rural peasants can still plant crops and harvest by hand, but eventually that harvest will be sold.  Increasingly, this means interface with buyers, understanding markets, knowing free trade and fair trade, developing the skills of collaborative work and institutional strengthening.  The desire for such knowledge may be innate in all humans, but the methodologies of its application must be learned.  In a global marketplace, it’s the essence of economic survival.  In todays’s world, educational advancements are not only a national measure, but also a comparison across the world’s economy.  Rural producers in coffee cooperatives may not need an MBA or an understanding of global marketplaces, but they do require an understanding of how their cooperative should be bringing value to their harvests.  They may not require an understanding of Starbuck’s strategic direction over the next five years, but they do need to know the essence of “the game they are playing,” how the score is kept, how runs are scored and what every member’s contribution to the effort must be.  Reliance upon someone else to tell us what we ought to be doing in our own self-interest creates lots of vulnerabilities.  Winds of Peace will continue to seek ways of building sustainable self-reliance in Nicaragua, not only by providing funding of grants and microloans, but also by accentuating the urgency of enhanced education opportunities.

My involvement in such an initiative seems ludicrous in some ways: my own academic profile is, in my view, much less than it could/should have been.  I never starred in any classes, never completed a post-graduate degree, have never worked within an education system, and years ago could barely help my children with their high school math!  I fully recognize that I’ve had far more opportunities for education than my intellect may show.  But I also know that I love to read, and that I have a curiosity about life and living, and an enthusiasm for new ideas and different ways of looking at the world.  I figure that those traits likely arose from my educational endeavors somewhere along the line, and for that I feel very fortunate.  My education did not point me to a successful career, but I know that it opened my mind and my possibilities.

Educational development may be a good thing in its own right, and as a human right.  But at its core, especially in this time of turmoil and ultra-competition, education is an economic matter.  Come to think of it, it’s not only a critical lesson for the people of Nicaragua, but one which we in North America would do well to remember as our own educational and economic grades continue to fall on the global report card….

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Posted By Steve Sheppard on October 25, 2011

I had the opportunity to see a film the other night entitled, “Which Way Home.”   The movie is a 2009 feature documentary film that follows unaccompanied child migrants, on their journey through Mexico, as they try to reach the United States. It follows children like Olga and Freddy, nine-year old Hondurans, who are desperately trying to reach their parents in the US.; children like Jose, a ten-year old El Salvadoran, who has been abandoned by smugglers and

ends up alone in a Mexican detention center; and Kevin, a canny, streetwise fourteen-year old Honduran, whose mother hopes that he will reach the U.S. and send money back to her. They are stories of hope and courage, disappointment and sorrow. They are the children you never hear about; the invisible ones, and it is a sobering experience to see it.

Amidst all the debates about immigration reform, the behaviors of Immigration Control Enforcement (ICE) and statistics which only serve to distance us from the plight of real people, the film personalizes the issue.  Within its 90 minutes, the film allows us enough time to develop a connection with some of these very young children, to care about what happens to them.  At one point during the film, the filmmakers arrange to meet their train-hopping subjects in the next Mexican city up the line, but the boys never show up there and we can feel a palpable fear for what might have happened to them.   They have put real faces and personalities to the nameless numbers we normally hear about in such discussions, and suddenly the topic becomes much more difficult to deal with.  Being a parent and reacting to the story in the way  which I did, I can only begin to imagine the feelings experienced by the parents of these children.  Excruciating.

It’s interesting for me to note that immigration control attempts to deal with these travelers at the conclusion of their their journeys, when they’re at or over the borders.  It’s a necessary tool in dealing with illegal  immigration, but it seems to me that we place a great deal more attention there than at the front-end of the problem, the context in which these young lives find themselves and the despair which leads them to accept the life-and-death challenge of illegal entry.  The truth is that most of the young travelers would far rather remain in their home countries than to take the risk of illegally and dangerously going elsewhere.

They choose to take the risks, to leave their families and the familiarity of home, out of abject despair.  They feel and see hunger all around them, they recognize the growing despondency in the faces of their family members, they know how the rest of the world lives in comparison and finally they have absolutely nothing to lose.  Uncertain death on a freight train becomes less scary than certain destitution at home.  That’s a frightening prospect, but one which can and does drive children from their parents, parents from their homes, Nicaraguans from their country, and North Americans to an angry response.

The answers might lie far less in building walls than in helping to build opportunities.  Perhaps success is to be found less in meting out visas and more in making greater assistance available for in-country developments.  There must be a likelihood that instead of ignoring the conditions which entice a nine-year old child to strike out alone, we might fare better by creating, say, a loan opportunity that has the potential for stability and sustainability at home.  It’s a matter of cause-and-effect: if I have become overweight, it does me no good to curse my pounds.  Instead, I need to address the eating and sedentary habits that likely have created the unwanted result.  Likewise, the reduction of illegal immigration is likely to be found in the causes rather than the end results.

Seeing a movie like “Which Way Home” begs the question of what to do about it.  The answer may lie in redirecting our help to organizations which aim at the causes and not the end results.  Some organizations are great at placing money but not following through to ensure results.  Those efforts are often futile.  Others are more committed to accountability and measuring progress; those are the ones that have the best chance of impacting the  number of kids jumping trains.

Winds of Peace has never cited immigration as one of its target issues.  Nonetheless, we’re aimed at the causes that often lead to it: lack of opportunity, no work, minimal capital for development, limited experience in institutional strengthening, zero hope for the future.  By helping to provide the resources for Nicaraguans to create a future through their own economic enterprises, we hope to be helping them to re-think the need to leave home and thus to never wonder which way back home….  

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Posted By Steve Sheppard on October 16, 2011

I’ve been reading an interesting little book of late, entitled, A Little History of My Forest Life, by Eliza Morrison.  It’s an account of her life in the latter half of the 19^th century in northern Wisconsin, and Madeline Island in particular.  A woman with both European and Native American ancestry, Eliza had been schooled sufficiently to read and write as a child.  As an adult, Eliza had been requested by a good friend to write down her recollections of her life in those early days, and the book is in large part a collection of her letters and stories.

As difficult as life was in the rugged north, Eliza’s autobiography is surprisingly positive.  Her stories of arduous summer work, seemingly always in preparation for the winters to come, are exhausting just to read.  Her descriptions of mid-winter days on Madeline Island, and her regular hikes across the three-mile channel on Lake Superior between La Pointe and Bayfield, are enough to give me shivers on even the warmest day.

But her attitude rarely changes; she is an optimistic and grateful character who would rather give thanks for the steadfast loyalty and partnership of her husband, John, than to curse the vagaries of available work in the region and his need to follow work wherever it led him.  John often found it necessary to migrate across borders and communities in order to feed Eliza and his family of six.    Often alone with her children for months at a time, sometimes in winter nearing the end of provisions with no means of replenishment, Eliza nonetheless offers a perspective of one who has been greatly blessed in life.

Her letters offer an intimate look at both the activities and the psyche of this immensely strong woman.   The tenacity of Eliza’s spirit resonates throughout her letters.  But in between the accounts of paddling a canoe across the wind-driven swells of the Superior Ocean (for such it must have seemed to a solitary paddler on a gusty day) or leading a team of dogs through waist-deep snows to deliver provisions to John, there is also a plaintive voice that speaks up in unexpected places.  It is there that I began to understand Eliza Morrison and her life.

In her note to friend Catherine Gray on December 15, 1894, Eliza provides a glimpse of what else lay deep in her heart.  In the midst of a report about her sister in Michigan, Eliza reveals something else.  “My sister is a widow now and an invalid.  How I would like to go and see her.  She lives in Lanse, Michigan.  Her husband use (sic) to be a Methodist minister.  Sometimes I think it is hard to be poor and my mind will just turn and think may be it is the Lords will and than I content myself.  I have (children) Bennie and Eunice with me.  They both go to school….”

Among all of the optimism and positive thinking that marked Eliza Morrison’s character, this singular notion cries out like some primal scream for recognition and justice.  Eliza was not an ignorant woman; she understood all too clearly the reality that she was poor and that there was something fundamentally wrong in that.  So wrong, in fact, that she could not fathom how her circumstances could be so low, thus having to rationalize the inequity by ascribing it to some unknown, undecipherable divine edict.  In the midst of a world that holds so much, how could she accept her poverty other than by ascribing it to a heavenly will?  And in fixing the responsibility there, she could somehow better accept the unfairness, the incredulity of it all.

Upon reflection, I think that I experience this same kind of rationale in Nicaragua all the time.  Impoverished Nicaraguans, recognizing the great wealth and resources of the world, cannot logically fathom reasons for their circumstances.  They know enough of the world to see how others live.  They read enough to recognize how politics often maintain a strong foothold on the back of their necks.  And yet they cannot comprehend easily the disparity between beans and caviar in a world which has plenty of both.  So they are forced to look for the explanations elsewhere, in the divine, in some inscrutable plan by God who, for some reason, wishes them to be poor.  That’s what extreme poverty can do: to drive a man or woman to so convolute his/her spiritual beliefs that the pains of hunger and want become reasonable and even justified states of affairs by no less than the Creator himself.

This may be the ultimate ignominy of poverty, that somehow it is right with the world, that it is part of a divine plan, that there is not only a remedy to be sought but that somehow to seek such remedy would be contrary to the will of the universe.  There might be no greater insult, no greater humiliation, than to see oneself as a divinely-appointed “bottom of the barrel.”  But that kind of thinking is all too easily fomented by the incessant anxieties and stressors of being very poor.

Some may cite a nobility in being poor.  If there is strength to be achieved through adversity, then the poor certainly must possess great reservoirs of calm and resolve to see them through their consistent crises.  But such nobility only resides in those who have chosen a poverty way of life, a number which is very small.  For the rest of the impoverished, the condition does not offer consolation or meaning, only hopelessness.

I have come to regard the poor in a very different way in recent years.  When I meet them- which in Nicaragua is very often-  I do not immediately see hunger or deprivation.  What I feel first is empathy for people who may actually believe that their condition is both warranted and valid, a belief that ultimately must break their hearts as well as my own.

Sometimes I think it must be hard to be poor.  And I know with growing certainty that it is hard for the rest of us to be rich….

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