We are all the Same - The ISW Challenge

Day 6 in Chiapas......

It happened in a streak of light today, inspiration came in the form of sunshine on a basket of hot tortillas. We had decided to stay at the Treehouse and sip our cafes as we discussed the speaker from that morning. The sunshine made me think of how grand it is that, though it was only I who was seeing those particular beams of light, they had come from the sun which was simultaneously affecting every single thing on this planet….whether by hitting it, reflecting on the moon, or making a notable absence.

This idea of interconnectedness, of a vast universal link is why I will be an ISW. It is why I see my community as my family as well as my global neighbour ….. This brings me to our speaker.

He talked to us about community support holistically, in a way that I had never experienced before. Not just the idea of “full belly, happy heart”….because really a full belly just means that you had enough to eat for that meal. He spoke of the strength that comes with unity, solidarity. With being the witness to another’s truths.

 He spoke of the idea that mental health is a direct effector of physical health….

Stress induced by low-intensity conflict is just as damaging as lack of access to nutritious, sustainable food and clean water.  A terrorized population cannot thrive.

We discussed who defines value….

How do we place a monetary amount on any life? Why does the country or ethnicity of one’s birth suddenly allow or disallow them access to food, water, shelter, safety?

Remember what is good for the goose is good for the gander. We are all affected by that same sun…even if we do get lost in the glow of a single beam.

So to keep this brief, I wanted to ask everyone who reads this to try being an ISW for a day.

Look at a complete stranger like they’re your brother, mother, child. See how that shapes your view….when you’re no longer just strangers.

Would it get you to hold the door open for them? Split your sandwich if they are hungry? Would you give them a $20 bill? A $50? Would you drive them to the hospital if they were sick? Let them sleep on your couch if they had nowhere to go? Would you question another that discriminated against them? Would you speak up for them in a room full of strangers? Would you write a letter to your PM demanding their equal rights? Would you call them friend even if it were uncomfortable or unpopular? Would you be too afraid to do these things? Would it be because you don’t know if they’d do the same for you? Is that enough of a reason not to help? Is your reluctance a product of fear? Who put it there?

I’d like to think that the division that has caused the destruction of people, culture, earth, water, life, has been because we have unlearned our link….our connection.

We are all affected by the same sun.

Let’s be brothers, mothers, daughters.....if even for a day.

And away we go....

The one thing I have learned about preparedness is that, well, you can never really be prepared.

 I have never done this before; really travel. As a child we drove all over Ontario on day trips. I have been to the Northern neighbouring United States a handful of time. I have been lucky enough to visit some of the reserves in Ontario……but international travel? Never.  So needless to say I was a bit of a wreck, and didn’t really realize it until I started to head to Loyalist College to catch the bus with my class to the airport.

The half hour wait was a blur. Small talk was all I could muster as I wished my family goodbye. At 11:30pm, January 24^th, I stepped onto the bus. The wheels began to turn a funny sense of calm hit me. I was on my way, no turning back now.

I am training to be an International Support Worker in Loyalist’s new post-graduate program. My background is in community advocacy, but my experience this far had only been with local communities. Would I be able to take the transformative learning that I’d received in the amazing course and turn it into a usable reality in a totally different culture? We are a close group, a family in our own sense, understanding the needs and motivators of each other like we had grown up in the same home. I reconciled that if I couldn’t make a go of it with this group, than it just couldn’t be done. I was on my way to something big.

It was about this time, after the seventh check that I had my passport and my luggage keys, I realized I had left my wallet at home on my couch. Now I lose everything, ask anyone of my friends who hold my spare keys solely for when I lock myself out of my apartment (“Again?!”). This should have shaken me, but somehow it was all okay. I was heading into the unknown….don’t sweat the small stuff.

The gaggle of students took up camp on the floor of Pearson International Airport and began the waiting game. Some sent off last minute emails, others confirmed that their checked baggage would survive the gentle caress of the luggage handlers, all looked over-tired with the weeks of planning to get to this point, all looked driven with the excitement of the pending once-in-a-lifetime experience within our fingertips.

The Gate opened at 3:30am and we all piled through customs and hunted for snacks. At 6:25am we boarded the plane for Chicago O’Hare airport.

Did I mention that I have never been on a commercial plane before? In my dad’s home-built open cockpit two seat I felt akin to a (noisy) bird. But a jet plane? A bus with wings? Not something I ever looked forward to trying. The force of take-off shook me and I worked hard to keep nausea at bay for the next hour and a half.

This routine was repeated by our group of nomadic scholars until we hit Tuxla. By this time it was after 10pm (11pm Belleville, Ontario time). We were shivering with exhaustion under our furrowed brows. Would we ever get there? The all at once there was a screech of tire on tarmac followed by a woman’s voice speaking Spanish over the P.A. She welcomed us to Tuxla….Chiapas’ capital city.

To our utter delight we were hugged with a 28 degree breeze as we stepped off the plane. That’s about 50 degrees warmer than what we had left Belleville in 24 hours earlier.

We hired five taxis for the 20 of us and wound through the hills and dips in the roads of Tuxla to the faint sound of Mexican talk-radio from the cab’s rear speakers.

At 11:30pm we checked in to the Hotel Cassablanca. This would be home for the night.

I wish I could tell you more about my first impressions of Mexico, the smells, the sounds, the rich visual diversity of the city we were in. What I could tell you about was how long it took after my head hit the pillow to fall asleep; approximately 9.3 seconds.