Violent eviction in Goiania

settlement in Goiania, Brazil demolished. Photo courtesy of Indy Media


By HOMELESS 16/02/2005 At 23:57

A large military policy operation with 2,500 men has started this morning (February 16) for the eviction of the land occupation Sonho Real (Real Dream) in the city of Goiânia, Brazil. Two people got killed, over 800 people got arrested and several people are wounded (five were very seriously wounded). Among the arrested, two Indymedia volunteers, one from Goiânia and one from Indymedia New York.

The occupation started in may 2004 in an area which has been abandoned for years and quickly gathered 3,000 families. In January, Justice ordered the eviction of the families and since then police have been terrifying the families with death threats and sudden attacks. In February 11, police showed up suddenly and shot gas and concussion bombs and fired rubber bullets against the people. One child got hit by a concussion bomb. On February 15, in another attack, police shot bombs and fired with guns. Two people got hurt. After pressure from social movements and human rights groups, state of Goiás Governor Marconi Perillo committed himself not to send police to evict people in a violent way (you can hear his commitment in this recorded audio. Today's attack and the so far confirmed death of two people showed he did not stick to his words.
You can pressure authorities for the release of the arrested and for the investigation of the murders:

Marconi Ferreira Perillo JúniorGoias State GovernorPhone # 55 - 62 - 2131456 r.231Fax # 55 - 62 - 2131479 or 2131481E-mail: governador@palacio.go.gov.br
Jonathas SilvaPublic Security SecretaryPhone # 55 - 62 - 2651000 or 2651050Fax # 55 - 62 - 2651001 or 2651002E-mail: Isabela@go.gov.br

Feb 19, Indymedia Report

After the violent eviction suffered this Wednesday, the 16th of February, many of the families from the occupation Sonho Real spent the night at the Catedral of Goiania. Others stayed in a Gym, because no other space was provided for them after their eviction. IMC reporters are now hearing a great number of reports of police violence and authority abuse. Even neightbors from the occupation have made reports about being attacked by the police. Some have sought medical attention. A rally was called for today, the 17th of February at 9 AM in front of the Catedral of Goiania to protest against the violence and to demand punishment for the perpetrators. During the rally the homeless held a funeral for the two 2 militants killed in Wednesday's raid, Pedro Nascimento Silva and Wagner da Silva Moreira. During the demonstration some undercover cops were identified by the squatters while they were trying to arrest of one of the leaders of the Occupation. Trying to avoid prison, the homeless surrounded the police officers who shot many times in the direction of the crowd. In as attempt to escape, they ran to a square near the Military Police who proceeded to set up a police line and protect the undercover cops. Still coming in are many uncomfirmed reports of murders and extreme police violence, in addition to the reports about the missing bodies. A recent post to IMC reports bodies that had been hidden in tanks or burned by the police). At this time, some of the arrested remain in jail and it is estimated at least 50 people missing, based on the various eye witness reports.

Sem Terra

Young girl and her baby sister. MST camp outside Porto Alegre, Brasil. 1 February 2005. Photo by sep


Without land.

One of the most visible and vocal groups at the Fifth World Social Forum in Porto Alegre was the MST-the Landless Workers Movement in Brazil(http://www.mstbrazil.org/). MST is at the frontlines of the global war against poverty. For years, MST has been reclaiming people’s right to land and development through their radical strategy of land occupation.

With the help of people from Via Campesina, the international network of peasant movements, I together with the other members of the Focus delegation, visted two MST sites outside Porto Alegre. First was the camp where around 80 families live, cramped together in makeshift huts made out of black plastic bags erected on a small piece of occupied land near the highway. The ‘camp’ represents stage one of the occupation. Life in the camp seems harsh and difficult with no electricity, inadequate water, limited food and with the people there exposed to all the elements-the cold breeze at nite, rain, dust and the harassment from both the police and the private para-military guards of the idle property. From camps like these, MST communities launch their campaign to reclaim lands. They engage in dialogue with government, conduct mass mobilizations to make idle lands productive for the benefit of peasant communities.

I have stayed in impoverished communities before and have stared at faces hardened by deprivation and defeated by hopelessness. While the people in the MST camp still do struggle with their own personal demons of alcoholism and violence, what I saw in the faces of the people there, especially the children, was dignity and determination instead of defeat.

The second site we visited, a little farther away from the city, was a community re-named Filho de Sepe (“son of Sepe”). Sepe was a local hero that the community chose to honor by naming their new home after him. In sharp contrast to the camp we visited in the morning, the ‘settlement’ --as they call areas that they have successfully reclaimed—was a picture of a productive and vibrant community where people worked together to accomplish their collective goals. Here, small but decent houses made of concrete have replaced the black-plastic huts we saw in the camp. The settlement still faces a lot of challenges to make it viable and sustainable especially amid the threat of corporate globalization, but to me it represented a symbol of hope for the many who are struggling for dignity.

At the MST settlement we sat down and chatted with Marco, one of the leaders of the community, over a home-cooked meal of rice, potatoes, baked beans, and vegetables—to many of us the best and definitely most satisfying meal we've had during our short stay in Brazil.

The MST flag is hoisted at the opening march of the World Social Forum in Porto Alegre, Brasil. 26 January 2005. Photo by sep

two girls inside their make-shift house under the MST flag. outside Porto Alegre, Brasil. 1 February 2005. Photo by sep

Children playing cards at the MST camp outside Porto Alegre, Brasil. 1 February 2005. Photo by sep

Photos from Porto Alegre

Little boy oblivious to the electrifying presence of Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez, who spoke at the WSF

midday at gasometro.

at nite our spirits danced to the rhythm of samba and bossa nova

Resting against the branches. 31 January 2005. Porto Alegre

FDC flag at sunset. 26 January 2005 in Porto Alegre

a korean activist carries their flag.

over a hundred thousand people joined the opening march of the WSF 2005 filling the streets of Gasometro with songs and dances from all over the world.

shouts of "Viva Viva Palestina"! reverberate at the closing march of the World Social Forum in Porto Alegre. 31 January 2005

Senyor Cohen

Dear Heather by Leonard Cohen 2004

January 5 nang huli kaming magjamming ni koyang sa lilim ng talisay. Ibinahagi niya ang kanyang mga bagong awit at sinuklian ko ng mga hiram na kanta mula kay Leonard Cohen. Simula nun ay nasa Leonard Cohen mode na ako. Paguwi ko sa bahay nung gabi na yun, salpak sa CD player: leonard cohen, pagsampa sa my bros. mustache para sa 12-2 set namin ni boy d: leonard cohen, kagabi sa opisina ng grey matter: leonard cohen pa rin. Ngayon sa opis habang pinipilit na habulin ang mga deadline: leonard cohen uli. Ito ang isang kanta mula sa pinaka bago niyang album na Dear Heather.

Pagsaluhan natin.

There for you

When it all went down and the pain came through
I get it now I was there for you
Don't ask me how I know it's true
I get it now I was there for you
I make my plans like I always do
But when I look back I was there for you
I walk the streets like I used to do
And I freeze with fear but I'm there for you
I see my life In full review It was never me It was always you
You sent me here you sent me there, breaking things I can't repair
Making objects out of thoughts, making more by thinking not
Eating food and drinking wine, A body that I thought was mine
Dressed as Arab dressed as Jew, O mask of iron I was there for you
Moods of glory, moods so foul
The world comes through, a bloody towel
And death is old, but it's always new
I freeze with fear And I'm there for you
I see it clear, I always knew
It was never me I was there for you, I was there for you
My darling one, and by your law it all was done

smile in the shadows

Mumbai lady. Marine Drive, Mumbai, India. January 2004. photo by sep

I don’t remember her name. In fact I don’t recall even asking and she never bothered telling me. But I won’t forget that late afternoon by the beach. She was moving around painting people's hands with henna. I’ll always remember her smile and how she, like the rest of us there, seemed oblivious to what was happening beyond the wonderful confines of the beach at sunset.

Thanks to a borrowed Leica, i was able to capture her smile in the shadows.

Dylan’s Chronicles

Bob Dylan's CHRONICLES: Vol. One published by Simon & Schuster


The new Bob Dylan book is out. In “Chronicles: Volume 1” Dylan, who penned such beautiful yet sad narratives like the Ballad of Hollis Brown, the Lonesome Death of Hattie Carrol, Seven Curses, Blind Willie Mctell and John Brown, shares his own story for a change. Chronicles is Dylan’s personal account of significant moments in his life and career. I haven’t read the book, but if the excerpts that I have read and listened to are any indication, Dylan’s stories may prove to be as interesting as his songs.

A CD version, with excerpts from the book wonderfully read by Sean Penn, is also available. In one such excerpt, Dylan tells of his frequent visits to his idol and friend Woody Guthrie. Guthrie, who Dylan calls “The true voice of the American Spirit”, was already confined by then to the Greystone Hospital, a mental institution. Dylan recounts visiting him, bringing "cigarettes and playing songs for him." Dylan sang for Woody, Woody's own songs like Dust Bowl Blues, Pretty Boy Floyd, and Tom Joad, which Dylan all knew by heart. In one of these visits, Woody tells Dylan about boxes of songs that havent been recorded and said that Dylan was welcome to them. Woody gave Dylan directions to his house in Mermaid Avenue, Coney Island. Like a true disciple, Dylan took the subway and made the trip to Woody’s house. Dylan recounts “a babysitter opened the door. Margorie was not there but Woody’s son Arlo who was just about 10 or 12 years old then told the babysitter to let me in.” Dylan left Woody’s house without seeing the boxes of songs that Woody told him about. “40 years later Billy Bragg and the group Wilco would get access to these songs bringing them full life. Maybe they were not yet even born when I made that trip” said Dylan.

You can listen to the excerpts by visiting http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/6099172/site/newsweek/

Halina: 27 anyos

Halina by Jess Santiago. Cover photo by Nico Sepe and art dIrection by Fidel Rillo. 1991



May 2 klase ng kanta, sabi ni Woody Guthrie- the dying songs and the living songs. Ang dying songs daw ay mga “kanta na nagsasabing walang dapat ipagmalaki sa pagiging manggagawa, pero kung mabuti at masipag siya, balang araw maari siyang umangat at maging ‘boss’, at makapagsuot ng puting kurbata at amerikana at balang araw mga kanta ay isusulat tungkol sa kanya.” Meron namang mga ‘living songs’-- “mga buhay na awiting nagsasabing may dangal sa paggawa; mga awiting humihimok sa manggagawa na ipagmalaki ang kanyang sarili at kanyang trabaho; mga awiting nagnanais na pagbutihin ang buhay natin; mga awit ng protesta laban sa mga bagay na dapat tutulan.”

Ang Halina ni Jess Santiago ay isang buhay na awitin. Nung nakaraang linggo, 14 ng Nobyembere 2004, sa main theatre ng Cultural Center of the Philippines, lumutang at pumaibabaw sa katahimikan ng teatro at muling nabuhay sa isip at damdamin ng mga tagapakinig ang awit at kuwento ng Halina. Muling ipinakilala ni Koyang si Lina, manggagawa sa pabrika, si Pedro Pilapil, magsasaka, at si Aling Maria, maralitang taga-lungsod. Sa mga sandaling iyon, ang kanilang mga kuwento ang bida-- binalutan ng ilaw mula sa spotlight ang kanilang buhay at pakikibaka. Sa sandali ring iyon bawat kalabit ng gitara, bawat katagang binitiwan ng pabulong at pasigaw ni Koyang ay makabuluhan.

Buhay na awitin ang Halina dahil binigyan niya ng mukha ang buhay at pakikibaka ng mga karaniwang mamamayan. Buhay siya hanggang ngayon dahil patuloy ang pagsasamantala at karahasan sa mga paggawaan, sa kanayunan, at sa kalunsuran. Ngunit higit sa lahat, nananatiling buhay ang Halina dahil patuloy ang pagpupunyagi ng mga manggagawa, magsasaka, at mga maralitang taga-lungsod para sa mas magandang bukas at patuloy silang nag-aanyaya ng ating pakikiisa.

Mabuhay ang Halina. Mabuhay ka Jess Santiago!

23 November in Dhaka

I was looking for old trade campaign files from my delhi trip last nite trying to prepare for my presentation for Isis and saw this written at the back of one of the papers. I realized a bit later that it was written exactly a year ago today

23 November Dhaka airport

Joy described this airport , which she doesn’t like, as dusty. I was picturing it that way as I was disembarking the plane. What greeted me though as I stepped inside were soldiers. Their long fire arms looking more faded than their uniforms. All around you see security personnel, mostly men. I’ve seen only one woman guard so far. She caught my eye because she was wearing a blue sash over her blue uniform.

I’m seated in front of this big digital clock. 3:14 now. I’ve been here since noon. Just sitting, strying to read a book—Gabriel Kolko’s Another Century of War, a heavy read for passing time at the airport.

Some guy who I thought all the while was Indian Airlines personnel took my ticket. I was a bit suspicious and got a little worried when he took off with my ticket. He did return 30 minutes later with my boarding pass and new tags for both my checked-in and hand-carried bags. I knew this personalized service would eventually cost me something. I said ‘thank you’, when he handed over the boarding pass and tags, knowing that that wasn’t enough. He said “please give me tip sir, I am a poor man.” I jokingly said to him “ I am a poor man also. He said with a smile “ no sir, you are not poor.” I gave him 100 baht, the only other currency I have to spare.

Bangladesh is a poor country. This fact is often mentioned as a reference to to how the Philippines has remained underdeveloped or has stagnated since the 50’s. Then we were second only to Japan in Asia, so the refrain goes, now we are only slightly better than Bangladesh.

Sitting here however, in what I can describe as an airconditioned, slightly bigger bus station, like one of the bus stations serving provincial routes to Baguio or Bicol, I am tempted to think that the Philippines is much better off than Bangladesh. But measuring a country’s progress based on how its airport looks can be problematic. What if a lavish, modern airport gets erected as a showcase by a corrupt government amidst debilitating poverty? In reality majority of poor people don’t really have any use for such flying facilities.

I’m rambling, I’m really writing these thoughts to occupy my mind...

Im alone and blue in this Dhaka bus station. 3:28. The monitor has now shown the gate number for my flite to Kolkota. Another lonely, desolate place to wait.

6pm Kolkota airport

One actually has to go out of the international terminal and walk about 100 meters to go to the domestic terminal. At first I thought, “great, no walkway like the one in Bangkok”, but then I thought the one in Manila is worse, where one has to take a cab just to go from one terminal to the other.

Anyway, the walk outside Kolkata was good. It allowed me a glimpse of the place. And after 7 hours breathing dusty airport air, the air outside was a relief. As I was walking, I wanted on several occassions to get my cameras and shoot. Right outside the international terminal, I saw people doing road repair. I also saw their yellow cabs—nice, fat, yellow cabs circa 1950’s, I guessed. A little later I saw several of them parked in a single line. Nice photo in my mind. The photograph accentuated by a flock of black crows against the night time sky. More photos like these in the next days, I hope. I hope ill be able to click the shutter next time.

An orange butterfly is hovering near me. Could this be an omen? A good one I hope.

Life’s brutal ironies

Vote for peace concert in Bangkok. 30 October 2004.


I was in Bangkok recently and was invited to perform at the Vote for Peace concert at Suan Santi-chaiprakarn in the old-part of town. The day I arrived, a state of non-peace greeted me as news of death and violence in Narathiwat province, a predominantly muslim province in the South of Thailand, were all over the papers. After a brutal dispersal of protestors, at least 7 people lay dead and later 78 others-- arrested and dumped face down inside a cramped truck with hands tied behind their backs -would lose their lives from suffocation. Vote for peace is a campaign initiated by United for Peace and Justice Thailand in order to make peace an election issue. It is a statement of peace groups against US President George W. Bush and his re-election bid, and a stand against the heavy handedness and militarism of PM Thaksin. Intolerance and violence took the lives of 85 people in the South, just days before the peace concert. Later that week, Bush the butcher or as Jess Santiago calls him “The patron saint of war” would get a fresh mandate from the American people.

I ended up singing just one song, Chimes of Freedom by Bob Dylan. A refrain in the song goes "Striking for the gentle, striking for the kind, striking for the guardians and protectors of the mind, and the poet and the painter far behind their rightful time, we gaze upon the chimes of freedom flashing!”

Peace

bird dance

Performing the "kalusisi" (bird dance) at the opening ceremonies of lakbayk tribo 2004. 16 october 2004. quezon city. photo by sep