Conflict Resolution in Indonesia

The people of Indonesia are some of the kindest and warmest that I have met anywhere in all of my travels. They live in a country full of diversity, life and beauty. This overwhelming kindness and natural beauty make it hard to believe that our work for the last two weeks in Central Sulawesi with Serasi has focused on conflict mitigation in the aftermath of devastating religious conflicts during the last ten years. Much of the conflict in this region occurred around the city of Poso. For many years Poso was a peaceful city, located on Tomini Bay, whose residents were almost evenly split between Christian and Muslim. Although there are a variety of stories from the locals about why the conflict started, the results of the conflict have left the most lasting impression.

Driving through Poso entire neighborhoods exist where only the charred foundations remain of houses once occupied by their Christian owners. Although the lots remain untouched, the owners of these homes have rebuilt; however, most of them have done so an hour away in the town of Tentena. What were formerly two inter-religious towns are now each distinctly homogenous in their religious character. Although there are mosques in Tentena and churches in Poso, they remain empty and are far out numbered by churches and mosques respectively. The damage was equally caused by both Christian and Muslim and the effects have been felt by both groups as well.

The old market in downtown Poso sits nearly empty as both Christian and Muslim refuse to return to shop along its streets. Those streets are now safe, and the conflict has subsided, but this peace has come mostly through a program of segregation and separation. The impact of the conflict also stretches far beyond geographic relocation. Many people were killed and families’ livelihoods were impacted. Farmers who were forced to leave behind their farms have cleared new land wherever they relocated with severe impact to the environment. While in Poso and Tentena we were able to work with a variety of NGOs and CBOs who are trying to address these situations.

Some of the most rewarding time was spent with several local youth groups. Each has a unique approach to help mitigate the conflict ranging from an environmental awareness jamboree to a youth exchange program. One group is even planning to implement a talent competition to promote messages of peace that they are calling Pamona Idol. The youth in charge of these programs show an incredible maturity and reality about the harm caused by the conflict and their creativity in addressing the issues often far exceeds their adult counterparts.

Even in the face of constant reminders of the conflicts of the past, the people of Poso District maintain a positive attitude. The picture included in this post is of a local dance from Poso called the dero (deh-ro). We were able to learn the dero from representatives of several local NGOs with whom we met in Parigi. The dero is a community dance only performed with a large group. It is now one of the few ways in which men and women, Christian and Muslim can celebrate together.

The conflict and its memory are still very real, but many people and organizations in this area are ready to write a conflict free future for Poso, and Serasi is helping to make this dream possible.

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The Enduring Roles of Women in Georgia

Gahmarjoba from Tbilisi!

My impressions of women in Georgia were both surprising and in some ways, contradictory. Strong and proud are two words that come to mind first; fashionable, patriotic and vulnerable are others. Women and the different kinds of work they do serve as a backbone to the renewal of this beautiful country, and also the vibrant business community of Tbilisi.

During our first full day on the ground, we went on a tour outside of Tbilisi. Because there was a large demonstration planned, I think our hosts were concerned that we get out of the city—just in case. As we traveled toward Gori, another important city where IRD has an office, we went to some ancient churches, most of which were surrounded by the ruins of protective walls. Georgia is a country with a history of many occupations and invasions. The churches themselves always have the bell towers on the outside, and many graves of significant people on the inside. They tend to have beautiful frescoes and are mostly stone and very old wood.

An interesting beginning of how Christianity spread across Georgia is the story of St. Nino. She wrapped a cross in her beautiful long black hair to protect it from all enemies as she carried it on in horseback to establish the first Christian church. As we went from church to church, all had different expressions of this original Georgian saint, but in each depiction, the same image of the cross wrapped in her hair unifies the painting or fresco. One of the most common names for girls in Georgia is Nino, in her honor.

After we had seen the churches, we went to a cave city. This is just as it sounds—a whole city carved into the side of a small mountain of soapstone. There was a market place, many homes, a meeting hall which also appeared to serve as a court of justice, because it included a place for capital punishment to be conducted (a whole dug deep in the ground from which it would be impossible to escape, and in which one would have to stand). One home was quite grand, and clearly belonged to an important family. There were cooking pits, places to hitch horses and even a form of aqua duct, allowing water to flow naturally down the mountain, perfect for the townspeople to access.

In the valley below the cave city was their graveyard; during the Soviet era, attempts had been made to develop the ground for other purposes, but each time they would begin construction, a great storm would rage, flooding out the work, leaving devastation behind. The Soviets finally gave up, and so now the graves remain relatively undisturbed.

Georgia is a country in which women have played an important and acknowledged role at many turns in history. As I said above, St. Nino helped to establish Christianity here; somewhat later, there was a woman, King Tamara, who was so instrumental in creating Georgian culture in the twelfth century that the church canonized her, and her portrait hangs in many of the churches and other important buildings. She helped to develop a strong and proud Georgian identity, aspects of which can still be felt today. They call her “King” because the way that they understand gender here is more related to activity in some ways than simply biology. She is certainly acknowledged as a woman, but is honored with the title of “King.” The women in Tbilisi with whom I have interacted are very proud of her contributions to Georgian society and culture.

Women in Georgia today suffer from serious underrepresentation in government and make far less money than men for the same work (much like America), yet still have a strong presence in contemporary history as well as ancient: for one example, the only chess champion from Georgia was a woman. Probably the most significant ways that contemporary women in Georgia have helped their country and their people have been through two very important activities: holding together family under extremely painful and difficult circumstances, and being centrally important to economic renewal through small business enterprise after the wars.

As I walk down the streets of Tbilisi, I see all sorts of women who cover a broad spectrum of culture and wealth. For example, I might see an older woman with scarf, long dark skirt, woolen socks and worn out shoes walking next to a younger woman wearing nothing but couture with the latest haircut and the perennial very high heels.

For me, though, the most compelling story of women in Georgia, is the story of the women and girls who have been displaced by war from their homes and farms both fifteen years ago and just this past year. The conditions under which these ladies have to help their husbands and children survive are really appalling. The older internally displaced persons from the war of Abkhazia have been put in old factory buildings, army barracks and similar housing, which has fallen into deep decay. The buildings are desolate and dirty. The families live in tiny one and two room areas, with no kitchen or toilet. the communal toilet is simply indescribable by any standards of decency. The injuries run deep with these families; they have not healed from their losses, nor do they seem to have much hope for the future. We saw the kids playing around the buildings, creating for themselves through imagination and spirit, the toys and playgrounds they don't get to enjoy. We were told by their proud parents of how the children walk far to school each day and take their studies most seriously.

A hopeful opportunity in this disaster is the work of NGOs such as IRD that try to alleviate the worst of the suffering. With medical supplies and renovations, some of the IDPs' situations have improved enough to help the people feel at least some sense that the children may escape some day. IRD will be doing more work here to help more families, and continue to help develop a renewed belief in building a brighter future for Georgia and its poorest citizens.

One woman we spoke with showed us her tiny IRD renovated family room—there were two rooms total—with a new floor, clean and freshly painted walls, new and insulated windows and what most Americans would see as very modest furniture. She spoke in Georgian but her eyes filled with tears as she became more and more emotional. Our interpreter told us that she said that this had been a dream fulfilled; at first I was really wrapped up in her happiness; we met her daughters and their babies, all of the women beaming and proud.

But then the interpreter told us that she has liver cancer, and had been through several painful procedures. I noticed that she had a blanket wrapped around her middle, probably covering the dressings. Still, as she kept talking, telling us about how her daughter was learning English and was attending college, her eyes spilling over with tears, she finally—in English—blurted out in a loud voice, “I love you!”

I wasn't sure if it was okay, but I felt so moved by her story, I allowed my impulse to take over to give her a big hug. I felt that she wanted to be able to really express our mutual humanity, and she seemed relieved by the moment of human contact and affection. Then there were hugs all around!

Another woman with whom we spoke, like the other people in these collective centers, seemed very distressed. She held a picture of her son who had died in the war fifteen years earlier, and it was clear that she had not experienced full healing from her loss. She wanted to tell me all about him, and I listened to her words, trying my best to feel the emotions and stay with her, even though I don't understand her language. Then, her daughter-in-law arrived and handed grandma her baby. This finally brought some relief from her sadness and plaintive tones.

There are as many of these stories as there are families to talk about, but there is a wonderful spirit of hope, playfulness and, yes, anger here, that I pray will some day push Georgia to it fullest potential—especially with the help of organizations such as IRD.

There are lots of other aspects of my experience here so far, but these were the ones that seemed the most important to share immediately. There are all of the cultural aspects of Tbilisi, the food, the wine, the people—and the constant mission to find real (not instant) coffee! There are also many aspects to the work we are doing to help develop and, of course, help fund our new project. But a taste of our first days here seemed best.

Image: Fresco of King Tamar

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Two Experiences in Gori, Georgia

Our arrival into Georgia happened to coincide with Independence Day here, and the opposition parties planned a day of protests against the incumbent Saakashvili government. While dramatic, these protests, which have been going on for most of the spring, have been relatively peaceful and well organized. Given that the opposition planned an escalation of their ongoing actions for that Tuesday, however, our hosts felt that the best possible thing for us to do was to take the day and spend it as tourists outside of Tbilisi.

Tuesday morning, we were picked up at our flat and whisked off on a whirlwind tour of the historical sites in the communities surrounding Tbilisi – including several ancient Christian churches and the ruins of a town that was carved out of a sandstone cliff. The highlight of the tour for me was a visit to Gori, a city of about 50,000 people in eastern Georgia. The name Gori, comes from the Georgian for “heap” or “hill,” and refers to a castle that sits on a mount above the city. As we drove passed the city hall on the way to our destination, I couldn’t miss the giant statue of Joseph Stalin that stood in the plaza out front; seemingly one of the last vestiges of the Soviet era. Gori was Stalin’s birthplace, and we were on our way to see the very spot where he spent his early years.

To be honest, I am not really sure how to describe the Stalin museum. If anything, it felt like we were stepping back into the Soviet era, with its architecture and iconography in full glory. We were given a tour of the museum, which included Stalin’s biography, death mask, state gifts, personal memorabilia, his personal train coach, and the house where he was born. We seemed to be presented with a very thin veneer, which attempted to cover a painful history. Afterwards, we went on a drive around town and enjoyed a meal of Georgian cuisine at a local restaurant. While our visit was short, I was glad to have spent time there as a tourist learning about their fascinating history.

It wasn’t long before we returned to Gori, however. During the rest of the week, we visited IRD’s project sites around the country. One such project was their OFDA transitional shelter program in Gori.

Located only about a half an hour from Georgia’s capital, Tbilisi, Gori is where the Russian troops halted their invasion during the war in August 2008. During the war, ordinary citizens fled South Ossetia, the main area of conflict, to stay with family and friends in Gori and elsewhere in the country. Typically, they were only able to bring what they could carry with them and most of the families that hosted Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs) where ill-equipped to support them. In the wake of the conflict, IRD set up a project in Gori to help IDPs and their host families with financial and material support. IRD provided money to help winterize hosts’ homes and offered a menu of material packages that included bedding, firewood, household supplies and other non-food items.

During our return visit we saw a completely different side to Gori: this time we visited with IDPs and their hosts. One such family was that of Buzalzig Tamuld, who now lives on Radzmadizu Street. Mr. Tamuld and his family lived in South Ossetia before the war and fled when South Ossentian and Russian troops came into his hometown. He greeted us with warmth and insisted that we sit down to enjoy some pastries, and cha-cha (home made vodka) that his wife had prepared for us. As we ate together, he told us about how he awoke to the sounds of soldiers entering his house and narrowly escaped with his family to his neighbor’s attic. He watched as they ransacked his house in search for guns, destroying the house and the memories that made it a home. Shortly there after, Mr. Tamuld brought his family to stay with his mother-in-law in Gori. IRD’s assistance meant that they could add a room to his mother’s small house, making it livable for his two children. The assistance package, while ultimately modest, helped them at a time of critical need.

During the last few months, Mr. Tamuld has tried to return home to rebuild his life in South Ossetia. For the time being, he and his wife have left their children in Gori because he says it is not safe enough for them to return yet. While they have secured their house, they have decided not to replace the windows or finalize the reconstruction until after Russian troops leave South Ossetia. Until then, they live with the constant fear that war could break out and that he could lose everything again.

I wish that Mr. Tamuld’s experience was unique. Unfortunately, there are thousands of IDPs living with family, in collective centers and in settlements in and around Gori. All told, during their four month project, IRD was able to help some 17,500 people, all of whom have similar stories to tell. More importantly, IRD is committed to developing and implementing new programs aimed at helping IDPs in long-term and sustainable ways. If I was “glad” for my first visit to Gori, I was deeply moved and grateful for the second one.

In the last week, I have tried to make sense out of these two opposing experiences in Gori. I suspect that as I learn more about the experiences of post-soviet Georgia and the complexities of its history, spirituality, culture and people, I will return there often. What I have learned is that the pain underneath that veneer in Gori is real and current. And the work IRD is doing is critical.

Image: Mr. Tamuld and his mother-in-law.

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