What if we look at the life of gang members through the experience of child soldiers in Africa? Is the experience of children manipulated and dragged into war in Uganda all that different from the one of teenagers recruited by gangs in our own cities? Are the fears and the fight for survival and the sense of power that comes with carrying a weapon of a child soldier in Somalia different from the ones of our teenagers patrolling the neighborhoods of our cities with a gun under their shirt?
These questions spun in my mind a few days ago while witnessing the first encounter on Rutgers University's campus in Newark between Ishmael Beah, a former child soldier from Sierra Leone and author of A Long Way Gone, and DaShaun "Jiwe" Morris, author of War of the Bloods in My Veins, a compelling memoir about his life as a gang leader.
In a room filled to capacity by students and faculty, Ishmael and Jiwe compared notes about their lives. How, still children, in an environment surrounded by violence they were recruited by armed groups. How that at the time seemed the best choice if one was to survive. How they both embraced violence fully, moving around at ease in the space of death. How serendipitous circumstances snapped them out from the war they were in. How they regained their humanity through a long and painful process. How they are now focusing their efforts on helping youngsters to abandon violence. Ishmael and Jiwe; two worlds, two wars, but a similar pattern.
And yet there is a difference. It was Ishmael who pointed it out delivering to the audience an inconvenient truth. Which is that in the United States we sympathize and show compassion and are ready to forgive child soldiers like Ishmael, who committed deadly deeds in a faraway land, but are not conceiving the possibility of compassion for the likes of Jiwe here at home. To the contrary, we have a tendency to reward political leaders who embrace a zero-tolerance policy, despite the evidence that such policies cost the tax payer lots of money in exchange for questionable results. We define and classify what others do and who they are without being willing to really understand.
The audience gasped and looked anew at a reality to which it was blind. Captivated by the testimony of Ishmael and Jiwe, we felt -- at least for a moment -- the urge to bring empathy back home and to practice compassion. Empathy and compassion not only as good feelings, but also as an attitude of citizenship; and as an heuristic method for an in-depth understanding of the other and his or her human condition.
The event at Rutgers University revealed itself as a moment of catharsis and transformation. It transcended reality allowing us for a moment to experience how peace feels. It was not only an event. It was an experience.
Ishamel and Jiwe shared brutal realities. They shared harsh truths. And yet, we did not contest their statements. We welcomed their words and we assimilated them. We let down the defenses of our hearts. We let the melodic cry of a rapper to pray for him, in a moment of pure and high poetry, to sink deep into our souls. And when from the audience we asked questions and offered comments, our voices trembled, our eyes were watery and we expressed a deep desire to understand, to engage, and maybe to embrace. Even if just for a moment, we experienced and expressed that we do not need more security but rather reconciliation.
Our cities will become more and more the war theater of today's post-modern conflicts. Our cities, in fact, are the places where the contradictions and the frictions of an interdependent and urban world will increasingly discharge. And I wonder: don't we need to conceive an alternative paradigm, one that shifts from a narrow definition of security to a larger framework of peace-building, if we are to live in more inclusive, equal and non-violent societies?
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Jiwe's decision to remain inside his gang to change things from within is an amazing enterprise;and should be very much commended. It is going to be very interesting, in the years to come, to see what the outcome of Jiwe's endeavors bring.
Provided that Jiwe is sincere and fully dedicated to his cause, maybe he can make a greater difference than anyone. I believe his approach to changing the gang from within is unique. I've heard of ex-gang members leaving the gang and then trying to make a difference, but as far as I'm aware Jiwe's appraoch has never been attempted before.
It's seem like a logical venture. Forgive the cliche' however 'children need their heroes', and it's best when those heroes look, think, and sound like them; and it's an added bonus when our heroes live among us. Too often in the poor urban communities, when someone attains the success that Jiwe has with his book, they move away. Jiwe's decision to stay in Newark, NJ and help reform his fellow-gang members (a/k/a family) is as nobel as it is brave. I wish him much success.
Thank you Prof. Civico for posting this article..
Sincerely - - Delores Wardrick; one of your Rutgers student.
Beah and Morris both describe how they were thrown into veritable hell on Earth as young children. The former fought as a child soldier in Sierra Leone and the latter was taken under the wing of the Bloods at age 9. I must admit, when I first heard that both of these guys were going to share their stories at the same event I thought that there was the possibility of a real disconnect. After all, what could a man who participated civil war in Sierra Leone as a child have in common with a Bloods gang member?
Quite a bit it turns out. Striking parallels emerged, significant areas of overlap. The crowded room sat in awe as the two men "allowed their pain to speak." It felt at times as though the two speakers could finish each others sentences.
Jiwe spent much of his adult life in prison. Like Ishmael Beah, once he escaped the violence, he went through a period of transformation. He is now a local activist and mentor to at risk youth.
Rather than dismissing folks like Jiwe as thugs and undesirables, let's seek to understand where they're coming from. "No one wakes up one day and chooses to be monster", Jiwe said. Let's end this dynamic of punishing the victims. Let's listen to their stories. Let's empathize with our own child soldiers.
Also, we cannot make a direct link between poverty and violence. The majority of the population today lives in poverty. And yet the great majority does not embrace violence. I actually think we find lots of heroes among the poor, those lives tell us a lot about human resilience and courage and should inspire us.