UTHRT: ENVIRONMENTAL RIGHTS- A DAY AT THE SACRED FOREST OF MORAINE HILLS STATE PARK.

 UTHRT: A DAY AT THE SACRED FOREST OF MORAINE HILLS STATE PARK.

On Sunday, May 2, 2021, the US highways were wide, well built, and accessible. They spread their arms in different directions around the country. They reached our cities, suburbs, small towns, and national parks through their hands, fingers, and fingertips. They also allowed us to exchange goods and services, and helped weaken our prejudices. Today, they are the expression of American freedoms- among them, the right to travel.

That day I decided to escape the babel of Chicago and meet Mother Nature at the Sacred Forest of Moraine Hills State Park. As I have learned, each day is a blank canvas given to us by the universe. It permits us to find a pencil, crayons, and draw a masterpiece to our likings. Yet, we can contemplate the blank canvas and do nothing, or we can let others draw what they think is suitable for us. Early on in life, I decided to be the painter of my own days. 

In Africa, our ancestors adopted a healthy relationship with Mother Nature. They created a space in each village where killing animals, cutting trees, or polluting the waters was forbidden. They called those spaces the Sacred Forests. Today, governments worldwide emulate the wisdom of our ancestors by adopting the concept of Sacred Forests and calling them National Parks. For example, In the United States, National Parks are areas set aside by the federal government to preserve the natural environment. 

Moraine Hills State Park is an Illinois State Park, which is located three miles south of the city of McHenry in McHenry County, Illinois. It stands on 2,200 acres of wetlands and lakes and has more than ten miles of trails. There is Lake Defiance and there is the Fox River. In the park, you can see a habitat of diverse wildlife. The vegetation often reflects the season, and the season on the day of my visit was spring.

I arrived at the Sacred Forest of Moraine Hills State Park around 10:00 am. I left my cell phone and my previous and present-day worries in the car. I inhaled and exhaled three times. Then I started my walk on a winding white gravel trail. On both sides of the path, there were carpets of green grass and yellow flowers interspersed among them.

On both sides, there were also diverse species of trees of different sizes that stood along the way, inviting and welcoming walker’s hugs. I took the time to hug the tallest and widest one. I smelled its perfume and felt the beat of my heart against its trunk, and I knew the tree was alive. 

As I continued my walk, I heard the echo of my feet touching the ground. I listened to the sound of the wind caressing the leaves, birds, and hidden animals. The air I inhaled was fresh with healing power, and when it touched my skin, it had a moisturizing effect. I looked around me, and I saw the presence of Mother Nature everywhere.

On the way, I met people walking or on their bikes, and I shared smile with them when our eyes and our hearts met. We continued on our ways with the understanding that we shared something in common-a love for nature. Other people looked down on the ground when our path crossed, and they darted away. I looked at them with compassion, yet I wished not to meet again. The energy that results from fear has a suffocating effect on me, which I try to avoid. 

I also met animals such as white-tailed deer, cottontail rabbit, and opossums. The dogs were often friendly and wanted to play with me. I took the opportunity to pet them. I inquired about their names and breeds, and I complimented them. Owners took the time to share their dogs’ stories as they recognized my willingness to listen and my genuine love for dogs. Other owners chose to restrain their dogs, and I understood that. I contempt to wave at their dogs if they refrained from barking at me. 

Besides the dogs, I saw birds such as sandhill cranes, great blue herons and green herons, wood ducks, Canada geese standing in grass or swimming in waters. I observed them from afar so as not to infringe on their space and scare them. As I learned, animals deserve a right to privacy just like humans.

The trail at the Moraine Hills State Park is mostly flat reflecting the landscape of the Midwest. Yet it is interrupted in some areas by small hills that test your endurance. For that reason, the park authorities have built benches where you can sit, rest and admire more of the park's beauty. 

They also built a wood T-shape trail on top of Lake Defiance with two high benches on both sides of the T. As you sit on the benches, you can detect a swinging motion caused by the lake's waves. It gives you the impression of sitting in a small boat and floating on waters. 

As you sit on the benches. You can also observe the waves emanating from the middle of the lake, traveling with sparking reflection of the sun, and ending up under the wooden T-shaped platform. The scenery and the spectacle of light are indeed beautiful if you are fortunate enough to see them.

After sitting and looking at Lake Defiance for a while, I continued my walk, not knowing what was ahead of me. Yet, I had faith that I would make it to the end. I kept my head high. Above me, the sky was blue, the clouds were white, and the sun was bright.

Around 2:00 pm, I reached the end of the trail. I found a quiet picnic area. I unfolded my chair, sat, and drank water to quench my thirst. Then I laid on the ground and smelled the grass. I had a sandwich for lunch, ate fruits, and drank more water, which is the source of life. 

After lunch, I laid down, read a book, and fell asleep. Later, I woke up as the temperature went down. I also felt like someone or something was looking at me. As I turned my head to the right, I saw a doe with her fawns looking at me. I looked at them, and we looked at each other. Then they strolled into the woods and disappeared into their habitats. As I was lying on my back, I looked at the clouds and assumed that they were moving. Yet the reality was that the earth was moving. So, I learned not to believe whatever I see or hear as there are many distorted lies out there that can mask the truth.

Around 6:00 pm, I gathered my trash and followed the recycling guidelines. I left the place as clean as I found it - for the next person or next generation. I went to the Sacred Forest of Moraine Hill State Park to meet Mother Nature. Mother Nature welcomed me with open arms and provided me with a healthy environment, beautiful scenery, and a prayer ground where I could communicate with the universe. 

As a result, I encourage you to visit the United States National Parks such as Yellowstone, the Great Smoky Mountains or any US States Parks. As you visit the Parks, you meet Mother Nature and get to know them. As you know them, you love them. Then the desire to protect them will surface, and you will advocate for more National Parks. The truth is that you cannot love what you don’t know. And the best way to know the National Parks and love them is to visit them.

The US highways were unchangeable as I drove back, except for traffic jams and toll fees. Yet, I didn't mind them. They were the price I had to pay to visit Mother Nature at the Sacred Forest of Moraine Hills State Park. As it is said, “Vous ne pouvez pas avoir omelettes sans casser les oeufs”, meaning "you cannot have omelets without breaking the eggs."

Around 8:00 pm, I arrived home, tired. Yet it was a good tired. I showered, moisturized my body, and I felt much better. I hung my day’s painting Under the Human Rights Tree - and called it “A Day at the Sacred Forest of Moraine Hills State Park.” I lay on the bed, and for a while, I contemplated. Then, I slept, dreaming of tomorrow, which is a gift, another blank canvas- if I have the opportunity to wake up and witness it.

Sincerely,

Alpha 

UTHRT-THE RIGHT TO WORK!

My Dear Son,

As spring knocks at my door, I welcome it by opening my windows widely to let the fresh air into my living room. Spring sits where winter used to. It brings bright sun and the fragrance of a new season. With time I have learned that nature imposes its seasons on us, and the only thing we can do is accept them with gratitude. 

Today, it is much easier to call or message you on Facebook, Instagram, WhatsApp, or Twitter. Yet, my son, I want to sit at my desk and write you a letter to urge you to never surrender your right to work, as work is the fuel that supports our lives in our perpetual battle with nature. So, I hope you find work that you love, and let it be your calling.

The right to work is defined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights under Article 23(1), which stipulates, "Everyone has the right to work, to free choice of employment, to just and favorable conditions of work and to protection against unemployment." Yet, this should not be confused with right-to-work laws, which refer to US state laws that prohibit union security agreements between employers and labor unions. 

My home state, Illinois, is not a right-to-work state. On a personal note, I don't have anything against the right-to-work laws. As in most states that are not right-to-the work states, bureaucrats and unaccountable union leaders run the show. They use their authority to sandwich individuals’ rights and tarnish citizens’ access to the right of due process. They also infringe on an individual’s rights to a better life by imposing the burdens of over taxation and union dues. When it comes to work ethic, these individuals are not often concerned about incompetence, and they are resistant to any solution that affects their personal interests or urges for innovation.

Through this letter, I want you to view work as a partner, not a burden. As a result, you must adopt it with pleasure, or as the poet Senghor said, accept it as a mal necessaire. Yet, you should first find your life’s purpose, then cultivate it. When you find your life’s purpose, work becomes a vessel that allows you to share your gifts with the world. Every day becomes a learning experience that keeps your brain sharp and your muscles active. The fruits of your labor will benefit you and your family and keep you out of slavery. Therefore, you must find your life’s work, my son, and act on it with love. 

Also, I encourage you to go to school and learn the skills you need for your life’s work. At school, you will meet teachers and learn from them. Yet it will help if you can find the way to the library and learn more. On your assignments, you may receive two grades. The first reminds you to work harder because you deserve that grade, and second may be assigned for being yourself. It would be best if you never take the latter personally. You have to accept that we live in a world where being yourself has a price tag, and you must be ready to pay the cost. 

In school, you may also meet students whose work ethics inspire you and others who survive through intellectual dishonesty. Please don’t take the latter personally it is only a preview of what is waiting for you in your future work environment. My son, the school years can be challenging and time-consuming, yet the sacrifice is worth it. You should not let the challenges of these years go to your head and use drugs or pills to overcome the stress. I hope you graduate by working hard.

After your graduation, my son, you will travel around the world. In foreign countries, you will meet friendly people. They will welcome you in their home, share their meals and invite you to their weddings. Whatever the geographic distance, take time to keep in touch with them through a means like Facebook, or send them a birthday wish as a token of your gratitude. You may also meet people who will use your foreign status to try, to rob you of your money and dignity. Don’t be bitter about this. You will simply protect yourself and understand they are mentally or materially poor . You must know that whoever you meet along the journey will teach you something about humankind and the world. So, at the end of each trip, you will grow as a person and agree with me that travel is the best school. 

When you come back home, my son, don’t let the fear of insecurity kill your life’s purpose. So, work on your résumé and demand your right to work. Be your own boss if you can. When people request your service, perform it with love. Serve them in good faith and check to make sure they are satisfied by sending them a thank-you note. As your work reflects your personality, you should leave your footprint on whatever you do. Don’t worry about the financial gain; it will come.

In case you don’t make it as a self-employed worker, accept the fact you have to work to make a living and that begging for food is not an option. Find any job that pays as there is no shame in working for money. Yet, it would be best if you did not let the job overshadow your life’s purpose. It is only a detour, as it is said that all routes lead to Rome. My son, you know that there is no such thing a minor job. Any job that feeds you, clothes you, and houses you becomes “your Independence Day.” 

At work, my son, labor hard and be your best. There are no shortcuts to achieving excellence.-show eagerness to learn and help. You may accept being a student again by asking questions and learning to be a better listener. You may also become a teacher by empowering the newcomers. Yet, you must know that doing your work doesn’t mean you are immune from losing it. As economic circumstances may change, and some coworkers may admire your work ethic, others will hate you because you represent what they are not. Whenever they see you, you remind them of what they should be. Their main reason for working is to pay their unpaid bills. They hate to work, and it is a burden for them. 

So, your presence may disturb those coworkers. Their fears may translate into harassment and unfair treatment or, in some cases, sabotage. Yet you should always have the courage to ask them to stop since you are doing your job with excellence. If they don’t stop, take the issue to your manager. In case your manager does nothing, follow the grievance procedure without losing your temper. He or she may hide under the umbrella that “The problem with you is that you are not a team player.” Take them to court, as you should not let bullies bully you because you are performing your job with joy. 

In court, my son, you may win or lose your case. It does not matter. What matters is that you stand up for your rights. You didn’t sit in your office cubicle to let them abuse you and die a slow death because of your fears of losing your family, your house, and not paying your debt. The justifications for doing nothing may only lead you to an early stage of cancer. 

You may lose your job. This will be okay as long as you don’t lose yourself in the process. The important thing is to fight a good fight and never lie to yourself. When you lose your job, you may get another one. If not, join the employment line with your head held high. When you arrive at the employment office, be ready to remind any agents with insulting looks that you are there to demand your rights.

As you receive your employment benefits, enjoy them, yet it would help if you started looking for another job. Don’t settle for “easy money” lifestyle. Go out there to look for new opportunities, knock on doors and claim your right to work.  You will eventually meet someone who values your work ethic—a person who respects you and does not confuse your race, religion, or ethnic background- with your work ethic. Also, it would be best if you lived in the moment and not worry about a six-month unemployment timeline. Otherwise, you will lose your mind, and you need one to work. Finally, you should not waste your time looking for unpaid volunteering or internship positions. Once, I volunteered for a non-profit organization in the name of service. When they had an opening, I applied for the job l loved. They told me I was overqualified. You must learn from your dad’s mistakes and remember that Congress and the states enacted the Thirteenth Amendment for a reason and you shall never forget it.

My son, when it comes to working, never settle for mediocrity. You must work in environments where your highest potential is required. In those workplaces, excellence and innovation are not a crime. As you become successful at your work, be grateful for the gift of work. The fruits of your labor will provide you with independence and pleasure. Yet you must not use your success to be arrogant and look down on people; we are all human with our unique stories. You must also remember that work is not your domicile, and you should find time for your families, friends, and enjoying yourself. Make sure you surround yourself with people who appreciate you and are always there to help you heal your wounds when you get knocked down by life or another human being.

When you make a mistake in your work relations, own it, and apologize for if necessary, but don’t rely on excuses. There are dues to pay as a citizen, so pay your taxes. Yet, if dishonest politicians decide to ruin your hard work, petition them to stop. If they don’t stop, run for office, and get ready to receive and give punches. There is no morality in politics. When you win an election, always remember the people who put you in office. So, every day works hard to enact laws for constituent’s well-being. Never compare yourself to other politicians, and whatever the season, you should work with purpose. 

Tomorrow I will walk to the neighborhood post office, buy a stamp, and send the letter to your home address. I hope you find the time to read it. I will also send the same letter to your sister, and the only thing I have to do is change the greeting to "My Dear Daughter." Finally, I will make sure to post it Under the Human Rights Tree, so your own sons, daughters, and grandchildren will read the letter at the front doors of their youth and learn that their ancestors worked for a living.

Sincerely,

Alpha

UTHRT- HAPPY NEW YEAR 2021!

 Dear Friends,

 

Happy New Year 2021!

 

A year is gone; another year is here. The year 2020 has been a great year in which I learned a great deal, traveled, and grew. Yet, 2020 has been challenging due to Covid-19.

 

On January 1, 2020. I arrived at the city gate and knocked at the doors. Two guards opened the gate, and they asked me for my passport. As a sign of protest, I said no to their demands because I feel that the world is a village, countries are neighbors, and I am a citizen of the world. They told me that they didn’t care about how I felt; borders were made for a reason, and if I didn’t show my passport, I wouldn’t enter the city. After a few days at the border, reason made me accept that the world is divided into countries, and countries are separated by borders. Therefore, I realized that I should submit my papers and enter legally; otherwise, it would be an insult to reason. So, I gave the guards my passport, and they gave it back to me with a stamp that said, “A nation that cannot control its borders it is not a nation” (attributed to Ronald Reagan). As I entered the city, I learned that a life of dreams without a dose of reality is a recipe for disaster.

 

Early that morning, I wandered around the city, and I decided to have breakfast. At the market, I found a place called Coffee Served with Love. There, I asked for a cup of coffee in order to wish good morning to the day. The taste was terrific, so I asked the owner what the story behind it was. He told me that, as a young man, he traveled around the world tasting coffees. One day, he realized that his life’s purpose was coffee. So, he decided to come back home and open a shop to sell coffee. Then, he decided to share his life’s purpose with love whenever he had the opportunity to meet another human being. As I enjoyed my coffee, I also learned that life is about finding your life’s purpose and acting on it with love. 

 

At 1:30 pm, after a long day of walking and sightseeing, I decided to have lunch. I arrived at a restaurant called Objectivism, owned by a lady with a Russian accent named Ayn Rand. She seated me on the highest pedestal of knowledge. She gave me a menu with the daily specials, which were “Fountainhead” as an entree, “Atlas Shrugged” as the main course, and a dessert called “Objectivism”. I also enjoyed a mixed cocktail drink of reason, purpose, and self-reliance. The whole experience was fulfilling, and it allowed me to form a new perspective on the world.

 

Afterward, I started a conversation with fellow travelers. One of them told me about her trip to the far eastern region where an invisible enemy was turning people’s lives upside down, locking them up and killing them. Yet she told me that I should not worry as our borders were well guarded. I responded that we should be alarmed and offered to help before it was too late. Another person jumped in the conversation to say, “let them deal with their mess.” 

 

As I was getting ready to leave, Ms. Rand gave me a red envelope as a gift. I thanked her, but I did not open it. I was worried about the Russian collision that plagued our lives for four years. It cost us $32 million and ended up being fake news. I left the restaurant a little worried. I walked in the street with the thought of the invisible enemy in my mind, because I learned to view the world in the eyes of Neil Armstrong, who was struck that the planet Earth was a tiny pea- pretty and blue.

 

At night, I went out for dinner. Then, I decided to go and see a play called the Apocalypse Next Door. The first act took place on May 25, 2020, in Minneapolis, Minnesota. As I sat in the center aisle section in silence, I watched the drama unfold. I saw a forty-six-year- old man pinned on the ground while a policeman kneeled on his neck. The man begged for his right to life, yet the policeman refused to hear his cry, "I can't breathe!". Later, he died in a nearby hospital. The whole event lasted eight minutes, forty-six seconds. The sequence was so tense that the world erupted and called for justice. The audience seated in the left aisle section started shouting "Black Lives Matter!" and "Defund the Police!". Soon after, the drama shifted with a new plot. At a funeral home in Auburn Gresham, Chicago, while people honored a victim of gun violence, a car passed by, and fourteen people were shot. Later at midnight cars drove in the downtown area, and people started breaking in and looting stores. The audience seated in the right aisle section responded by shouting, "Law and Order!" Finally, a teenager armed with a rifle drove to Kenosha, Wisconsin, to protect the businesses and ended up shooting and killing two men in front of the police and media. Some in the audience called it “Self-defense”. The curtains closed in the hope of calming down the audience.

 

In the second act of the play, Covid-19 took center stage as main character and started smashing the scenery, causing damages that killed 1,827,941 people around the world and 354,233 in the United States. The virus also closed businesses and schools. The theater’s executive director stepped in to stop the play. He asked the audience members to go home, wear a mask, and socially distance. Yet, he refused to remind them that they had a right to the same health insurance that their congressmen had. In his final remark, the director advised the audience to connect via Zoom to watch the last act of the play. 

 

The last act, called “Election Day”, started well and ended with technical delays. An event that supposed to be a one-night show with a winner and loser ended up as an ongoing process. I thought it was my Zoom connection, and I decided to turn on CNN and FOX to get a sense of what was happening. Yet I went to bed wondering whether the channels were talking about the same election, as it was hijacked by censorship and conspiracy. I did not know what to believe. The next day I went for a run, and I had a healthy breakfast. While I reflected on the election, I concluded that I would be fine, as long as the winner guaranteed people their rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. 

My travels this year took me to Lauderdale-by-the-Sea, Florida. On January 9, 2020, I arrived in the Sunshine State; I spent my time walking and relaxing near the Ocean. I also visited the everglades on Captain Jeans’ Airboat, and I saw some wildlife. At the weekend, I went to Little Havana. There, I enjoyed delicious Cuban cuisine, and I ended up at a live band concert. I danced to the rhythm of the salsa until around 3 am. As I was getting ready to leave, a middle-aged lady grabbed the mic from the singer and started yelling "Cuba libre! Cuba libre!" Reality set in; I understood that the culture was Cuban, yet we were not in Havana, and I learned not to hide from politics as it is all around us.

My other trip took me to the Wild West. I left Chicago on September 6, 2020, and I spent the night under the Arc of Dreams in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. The next morning, after breakfast, I went for a walk in Falls Park and met James, a Native American, who was the self-proclaimed river's guardian. I continued my journey and visited the badlands Parks, Custer State Parks, Mount Rushmore National Memorial, and the Crazy Horse Memorial. At a small western town called keystone in the Black Hills, I rested and read about the legends of Commander George Armstrong Custer, Crazy Horse, and the dream of Korczak Ziolkowski. I visited also the Devils Tower National Monument and stayed at a ranch. I went to Cody, Wyoming, for a week to immerse myself in the cowboys' lifestyle and to visit Yellowstone National Park; they were both beautiful experiences. The tale of the trip was, when one door closed, another opened. As the invisible enemy closed international borders, the Wild West of United States America and the country’s beautiful places, national parks, and countryside opened to whoever dared to travel and seek. When I returned to Chicago, I learned there were many Americas, and I learned to love them all. 

Finally, my travels took me through the empty streets of Chicago and to Illinois parks. I carried my camera as my only weapon. Whenever I witnessed life's wonders, I sat in a Zen position to capture the moments and share them with my friends in my Instagram and Facebook page. 

 

I grew in 2020. The year confirmed my life's purpose, which is to advocate and share stories of Human Rights “Under the Human Rights Tree” www.underthehumanrightstree.orgBecause, I believe, the respect of human rights values can help us to build a better world. This year also sharpened my new views on human rights advocacy, which stands on the premise that human rights' claims trigger the acceptance of human duties, as they walk hand in hand. There is a Fulani's wisdom that says, "If God helps you to clean your back, make sure you clean your front." Today, whenever I advocate for the value of human rights, I will make sure to voice our duties as humans, as life is a balance.  

 

The journey of 2020 is coming to an end. The year 2021 is here, despite the dark cloud of incertitude that hangs over our heads. I hope you find a window of hope for which you are grateful. In 2020, I was grateful that I had three meals a day, a roof over my head, and I was healthy enough to travel around the country. In 2021, I look forward to better days, so we can meet again on the dance floor, at artistic gatherings, or at the battlefield of ideas. Before then, I want to take this opportunity to wish you and your loved ones Happy New Year 2021!

 

Sincerely,

Alpha

 

 

UTHRT: The Duty of Self-reliance at the Brown Garden.

 The summer of 2019 came a little late in Chicago, but it came. It arrived in late June with its joie de vivre. Its aura made Chicagoans bury their winter coats in forgotten corners of their closets and allowed them to wear their lighter summer clothes. You could see Chicagoans hanging out near the lake with Lady Michigan, having a drink along the Chicago Riverwalk, and biking to neighborhood festivals. 

 

Summer in Chicago also attracted tourists from all around the world who came to see the city where buildings kissed the sky, and where neighborhoods maintain their identity in an atmosphere of friendliness and politeness that characterizes the Midwest. Chicago is a beautiful city, but when you learn to see it with your heart, you will see its artificial walls and ensuing realities.

 

It was in this environment that I decided to share my dream with the universe. I dreamed of having a garden where I could grow vegetables, knowing I had neither land to plant my seeds nor water to nourish them. Yet I kept believing because I was guided by the desire to advocate for people's right to food, and the belief that there are ways to achieve that right with sheer will and hard work.

 

As I continued to share my dream with the universe, she responded. A friend of mine lent me a small lot at her property and offered to share her water. She also warned me that the soil was not fertile in this area, and that vegetables don’t grow well due to a neighbor's large tree blocking the sun, and animals eating the plants.

 

On June 9, 2019, I took the first step towards putting my ideas into action. Around 11 am, I was at what I now called the Brown lot working to transform it into a garden. Despite the challenges that lay ahead, I wanted to go through the experience, worrying little about the outcome. So, I proceeded to act, to tell the tale. 

 

At the Brown lot, I started to clear the grass, pull the weeds, and dig the soil. After hours of work, the lot was cleared. I assembled the dirt, grass, and weed. I returned the tools to their place and cleaned my hands. I felt a sense of satisfaction, and I learned that having a garden is good for our health. It allows us to exercise and be in touch with nature. 

 

As I prepared the ground at the Brown lot, I spent days learning about gardening. I googled subjects related to it. I watched YouTube videos, and I visited the website of local farms. Also, I talked to friends who had previous experience gardening and listened to their advice. Overall, I learned that gardening is an art of growing fruits, vegetables, and flowers, and having a loving relationship with nature. After my studies on gardening, I went to buy organic lettuce, red pepper, cucumber, and tomato seeds. I also bought six galvanized steel wire tomato cages, and I went back to the Brown lot to apply what I had learned. As Anton Chekhov said, “ Knowledge is of no value unless you put it into practice.” 

 

On June 14, 2019, I started to dig holes, plant seeds, and cover them with soil. After days of abundant rain, I witnessed the seeds emerge from the ground and become small plants. I felt as joyful as a mother who had seen her newborn for the first time. As weeks passed by, I tended to the plants' needs by touching them lovingly and protecting them from the weeds. With a generous season of rain, I just watered the plants occasionally. I learned that whenever you share love with Mother Earth; she returns it with gratitude. 

 

On July 26, 2019, the Brown lot became the Brown garden. The vegetable grew well, and the harvest began. I first had lettuce and cucumbers. Weeks later, I had tomatoes and red peppers. The harvest was successful because I provided the plants with all the care they needed. Also, the neighbor ended up cutting the big tree that prevented the sun from reaching the ground, and finally, the local animals decided not to touch my plants. As Paulo Coelho said, "When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it."

 

As a result, during 2019, I enjoyed healthy and tasty vegetables with a great taste without going to the store -because of the brown garden harvest. I felt privileged to live in a country where I am able to have a garden without being disturbed by government officials or chased by soldiers or rebels and can enjoy three meals a day in peace. Sadly, in many countries around the world, people are displaced by wars and are dying of hunger. 

 

The Food Aid Foundation reports that 795 million people in the world do not have enough food to live a healthy and active life. In the Sub-Saharan Africa region where I come from, one person in four is undernourished. The lack of food causes nearly half (45%) of deaths in children under five years old - which is estimated to be a total of 3.1 million children each year. As I contemplated these numbers, I feel sad because I believe having access to food should not be a privilege, but a right. Yet a right we must earn through hard work, if we are not disabled or ill. 

 

At the international level, legal scholars, diplomats, and politicians have taken the initiative to enact laws to bind nations to act and end the food crisis. Yet these laws have often fallen on deaf ears due to a lack of will and interests, as millions of elders, women, and children have died of hunger under our watch. Today I wonder what became of the song "We Are the World; We Are the Children."

 

In 1948, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights defined the right to food as an adequate standard of living. The document states in article 25 that "everyone has the right to a standard of living adequate for the health and well-being of himself and of his family, including food, clothing, housing, and medical care and necessary social services, and the right to security in the event of unemployment, sickness, disability, widowhood, old age or other lack of livelihood in circumstances beyond his control." 

 

In 1966 the International Covenant on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights reaffirmed the right to be free from hunger. The signatory parties recognized: "the right of everyone to an adequate standard of living for himself and his family, including adequate food" (Article 11.1) and "the fundamental right of everyone to be free from hunger" (Article 11.2). 

 

Finally, in 2012, after a decade of diatribe and ego displays, the Food Assistance Convention was adopted, making it the only legally binding international treaty on food aid. We could put it this way; after causing wars and destroying people's and families' lives, the countries of the world agreed to distribute little pieces of bread to the victims. That is to say the right to food is protected under international human rights and humanitarian law, but the application of that law is feeble.

 

Today, on the national level, few countries recognize the right to food in their constitutions. As of 2011, only fifty-six countries protected the right to food in some form or another. While some countries explicitly acknowledged a constitutional right to food, others implied it in broader human rights instruments or as part of a directive principle. 

 

In Chicago, as in many big American cities, the artificial walls that separate communities based on race or income also affect the availability of food specially in the form of “Food Deserts”. An area is called a food desert when inhabitants there lack reasonable access to fresh and affordable food. The Food Empowerment Project estimates that more than 500,000 residents in Chicago live in these food deserts. 

 

The consequences of restricted access to healthy food in neighborhoods with a preponderance of African-Americans are many including the prevalence of chronic illnesses like diabetes, hypertension and cardiovascular disease. An article appearing in Medical News Today "What are the leading causes of death in the United States?" (Hannah Nichols, July 4, 2019) reported that Heart disease was the leading cause of death among adults in the United States in 2017 with 647,457 deaths representing 23.5% of all death in the country that year. That statistic tells the whole story of food and health in the African American communities and both in Chicago and in the United States. 

 

As summer 2019 came late in Chicago, it also left early. On October 27, 2019, I returned to the Brown garden for the last time to pick the rest of my vegetables and clear the field. I thanked the universe for the experience. I also thanked my friend for sharing her lot and water. As autumn settled into the city, I reflected on my experience at the Brown garden and I now advised communities to go back to the land and tend their gardens. As Voltaire said, "We must cultivate our own garden."

 

The tale of the Brown garden comes to an end. Since then, the world has been wrestling with Covid-19, which has turned our lives up and down. Yet, politicians and experts hijack the disease on TV shows and blame each other for the number of deaths caused by the system's failure. They refuse to underline that a system where healthcare is not a right, is condemned to lose the fight. 

As we wait for a solution to the apocalypse, I believe that our best health insurance consists of healthy foods and daily exercise. Therefore, let's give seeds to Mother Nature; she will give them back to us with gratitude.

 

Sincerely,

 

Alpha Diallo

 

 

 

 

UTHRT. Happy New Year 2020!

Dear Friends,

Happy New Year 2020!

A year is gone; another year is here. The year 2019 has been a great one: I learned a lot, traveled, and grew.

I learned by following my own path. I started my journey on January 1, 2019, a winter day. As I traveled, I met an animal with four legs crawling and crying on the side of the road. I passed by her, minding my own business. My conscience, however, would not let me sleep. So, I returned and picked her up. I held her in my arms and shared the human touch that we all need in moments of sorrow. I also shared the little food I had whenever she cried, but she was gay and playful most of the time. After months of living together, I learned to admire her curious eyes, her beautiful heart, and her innocent ways. Though on a day when winter transitioned to spring, she decided to follow her own path. I was saddened, but as Khalil Gibran said, "Your children are not your children. / They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself. / They came through you but not from you, / And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you." I carried her memory with me, and I learned never to let the child in me die.

At noon on a spring day, I met another animal with two legs. He told me he was in a hurry as he needed to pursue his summer dreams. I walked faster to keep up with him. He told me about his hope for peace, love, and freedom. One day, he said that he wanted to move to California, start an organic farm, and become a guru. Another day, he spoke of moving to New York, settling in an office, earning a lot of money, and having all the things that come with wealth. Last night he shared with me his dream of revolution. He believed that the world was sick, and it was his duty to burn the house and rebuild it with his own blood, if necessary. As time passed, I learned to admire his sense of wonder, his energy, and his confidence; he was a dreamer.

As Khalil Gibran also said, "Trust in dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity." We spent the summer together camping in the wilderness. We swam in rivers, lakes, and the ocean. We climbed hills, descended ravines, and walked steep paths without blaming each other. On a day when summer turned into fall, I shared my intention to sit under a tree, rest, and live in the moment. I wanted to write a song, sing it in the wild, listen to the wind, dance, and look at my surroundings, paint or take pictures. He did not see it that way, as he was always living in his summer dreams, so we parted ways. I wished him well. I promised not to let the youth and the dreamer in me die. 

As fall was moving in, I saw an animal with three legs passing by, carrying eighty-five years of life experience. I decided to end my respite and travel with her since people you meet always teach you something (if you have the desire to learn). I asked her if she needed any help. She calmly told me she was okay. We walked slowly and talked little until the final days of autumn. One day at dawn, I found her body falling like leaves towards the eternal night of life. I sat, cried over her death, and I heard Khalil Gibran's voice asking me not to cry—"for life and death are one." I cleansed her body with my tears, and I buried her under a tree, reflecting on our last evening of conversation. She told me that life is a circle; we live, and then we die. We came from the dark to the light, and from the light, we will return to the dark. As you wake up, give thanks to the universe, and as you go to bed, again give thanks to the universe because we don’t know what will transpire tomorrow. Every day when you wake up, look at the horizon, admire its beauty, and never chase it. She told me to always be at peace with myself, despite the changing weather. She also advised me to travel because travelling is the best school. Finally, she told me to travel lightly, without prejudice, and never let fears or convenience steal my freedom. I continued my journey, carrying her wisdom. 

Months later, I arrived in two neighboring towns separated by a road. I went to the town on the left side of the road. The residents there welcomed me with food and lodging. The next morning, they asked me to join them to fight for their rights. The day after, they told me their neighbors from the right were responsible for all the evils that the world is facing. After months of fighting for our rights, I asked whether they ever thought about their own duties. Further, I asked whether it was okay to cross to the other side of the road and engage in a dialogue with their neighbors. The next day, I was subjected to the silent treatment, denied food, and my bed was taken. I took my belongings, thanked them, and crossed the road to the right. 

At the town on the right, I was also welcomed with food and lodging. The residents there invited me to join their classes where they were taught about their duties and how awful their neighbors are. One day, I asked them whether they had courses about their rights and whether they were willing to cross the road and talk to their neighbors. I was called unpatriotic. I left both worlds, agreeing with Alexander Hamilton, who said, "Give all the power to the many, they will oppress the few. Give all the power to the few, they will oppress the many." Today I strive for balance between the left and the right, and I never let partisan politics corrupt my views. 

My travels this year took me to the Fouta Djallon. On January 26, 2019, I arrived in a small village surrounded by two rivers and hills called Dogol Djigui. I reconnected with my ancestors and learned about my roots. I continued my walk, following the footsteps of the Fulbe, who arrived in the region in the fifteenth century. They established the kingdom of Fouta Djallon after the battle of Talansan in 1726. I hiked through Telemile, Mamou, Pita, Dalaba, and Labe. I stopped by waterfalls and the Museum of Fouta Djallon, and I was welcomed in Timbo at the tomb of Karamoko Alfa, the founder. I also met the children, women, men, and elders of Fouta. Finally, I came across cows and drank their milk. I believe that, as the winds of social media evolve into a hurricane, we all need to be rooted in order to stand. 

I grew in 2019 by finding balance. I served my community through the One Heart for Africa organization (www.oneheartforafrica.org) and advocated for human rights Under theHuman Rights Tree (www.underthehumanrightstree.org). I believe in service and respecting human rights—both traits that can help us build a better world.

The journey of 2019 is coming to an end. The year 2020 is here, and I will look out at the horizon, enjoy its beauty, but never chase it. I take this opportunity to wish you and your loved ones a happy new year 2020!

Sincerely,

Alpha

COLOMBIA. The Bridge We Must Cross on the Road to Peace.

On the rainy day of March 5, 2018, at 5:07 pm, I arrived for the first time in the Andes. The plane landed at the International Airport El Dorado of Bogota. Colombia is 207 years old. It has a population of 49,587,941 habitants and extends in a territory of 440,831 square miles. The purpose of my visit was to witness the impact of the Colombian Peace Process in the country.

I started my three weeks’ journey seeking the protection of Mauricio Babylonia's yellow butterflies. I proceeded with a heart full of love, guided by my desire to learn and my faith in people. Along the way, I met Colombians from all walks of life and fellow travelers in search of a meaningful life. I wandered to unfamiliar cities and places, blending with the surroundings. I tried new foods, drinks, and shared a smile; whenever I had the chance, as a sign of peace. I also faced challenges. I learned to deal with them with compassion and understanding, knowing a noble purpose guided me.

The Colombian Peace Process that took place between February 23 and August 26, 2012, in Havana, would bear fruit on November 29-30, 2016. Afterward both houses of congress in Bogota ratified the Colombian Peace Process and ended many years of war. As a result, I found Colombians, as a nation, walking on the road to Peace, so I joined and walked with them. 

However, I believed the road to Peace in Colombia required a bridge supported by eight pillars,so I traveled around the country to find them and allow Colombians to cross from the culture of war side into the culture of peace. - I called it the Bridge of Peace.

Bogota "The South American Athens"

On Tuesday, March 6, 2016, at 10 am, I started my journey by walking through colorful narrow streets of the old city, La Candelaria. I climbed Mount Monserrat, which was considered by indigenous Muisca as a sacred mountain. It is seated at 10,341feet above sea level. At the top of the hill, there was a church built in the 17th century called "El Señor Caido" meaning ('the fallen lord"). I walked around the church, enjoyed the fresh air and the magnificent view of Bogota. I decided to go inside the church and rest. While sitting on the last bench, I felt the calmness and serenity I encounter whenever I enter a religious or spiritual place. 

At lunchtime, I went to look for a family-owned restaurant, where I could eat. I found a place called Alto Del Frailejon Restaurant Tipico. The food was delicious and served with kindness. After lunch, I descended to meet the city of Bogota. On my way down, I passed by a well called Pozo De Los Deseos, meaning Wish Pond. I gave an offering and asked God to grant Colombia and Colombians a lasting peace.

At the capital district, the atmosphere was carnivalesque and bohemian. I blended in with the crowd and loved it. There were merchants selling goods, well-dressed gentlemen playing chess on the sidewalk. There were also performers and magicians showing their tricks surrendered by crowds of people with plenty of time in their hands.

After a long walk, I decided to buy fresh orange juice and sit on the sidewalk to enjoy the music played by a trio of Colombian musicians. I recorded a short video with their permission. I enjoyed the music, donated, and continued my route, walking without a specific direction or destination. Later, I ended up inside a beautiful church called Iglesia de San Francisco. I admired the architecture, and a beautiful religious song welcomed me. I wondered for a moment on the meaning of the song, but I realized it didn't matter, because the feelings were all lovely and peaceful. 

Afterward, I continued on to the Simon Bolivar square, where the city met.I saw children, students, elders, artists, merchants, and guards with their machine guns mingling together in Peace. While I was walking around the square, I was approached by an artist named Oscar. He was from Santa Marta. He offered to make me a small painting in exchange for dinner. I accepted the deal because I loved supporting artists. 

At this time of the year, the sun went to bed early. It got dark, and the air was cold in the evenings. I decided to have dinner and go to bed. As I was enjoying my meal, I was approached by a gentleman slice businessman. We started a conversation, and I learned that Colombia's taste for independence came at a hefty price. The declaration of independence from Spain on July 20, 1810, was granted only on August 7, 1819. After the liberator Simon Bolivar led a bloody war with the help of the president newly Republic of Haiti Alexandre Petion. Petion set only one condition which was to free the slaves after victory. Since then, Colombia has been through many name changes and territorial cuts. It has also endured civil wars, senseless violence, and serious human rights violations.

I further learned, after the "thousand days" war (1899-1902), that Colombia politics was dominated by two major families, the liberal and conservative. They competed peacefully for power; but the assassination of the populist political leader Jorge Eliecer Gaitan on April 9, 1948, at a street corner in Bogota, plunged the country into a culture of war and violence. That period was known "La Violencia," which was characterized by killings, kidnappings, disappearance, and torture. 

Colombia offered Hollywood a screenplay on which the country was portrayed as lawless, inhabited by drug dealers such as Pablo Escobar, where street corners were trapped for kidnappers. Colombian National for History Memory Studies attested that the war between 1958 to 2013 had claimed the deaths of 220,000 Colombians, most of them civilians (117,307), fighters (40,787), and 5 million were displaced.  

The paradox was both Colombian governments, paramilitary groups, crime syndicates, revolutionary armed forces of Colombia (FARC) and the National Liberation Army (ELN) claimed that they chose the road to war to protect the ideals of freedom, democracy, and justice for the Colombian people. 

After a great conversation, the gentleman left by advising me to be very careful when it came to buying emeralds. There was an illegal market and a lot of fake ones in Bogota. He asked me to contact him if I wanted to buy good emeralds. We shook hands, I thanked him for the time, and I headed to the hostel, I called home. I went to bed full of gratitude to the 8.081 million Rolos,as they created a peaceful environment for me to walk, learn and share without fear. On December 19, 2016, the United Nations General Assembly approved the Resolution 71/189, by adopting the declaration on the Right to Peace proposed by the Human Rights Council in Resolution 32/28, of July 2016, which stipulated in Article 1 that "Everyone has the right to enjoy peace…..."

On March 7, 2018, I went to visit the Salt Cathedral of Zipaquira, located 30 miles outside the city of Bogota. It was an old mine converted to a museum and Cathedral. After spending hours underground at the Salt Cathedral, I left the site to have lunch and reflect on my experience. My feelings were divided between the beauty of the place, which attested to the accomplishment of modern Colombian architecture, and the horrible reality of mining work conditions in the Andes. I wondered what kind of fears, miners must go through to build small churches and Croix in very corners of the Salt Cathedral of Zipaquira.

After hours of sightseeing around Zipaquira, I took a bus back to Bogota. I sat near a window observing lights passing in the dark with Latin music playing in the background. I listened to people's conversations on the bus without understanding much, but I liked the sound. Nearby me, a teenager was holding a baby on her lap, and on her face, I could only see the reflection of innocence and incertitude. I told myself, there must be a way for a peaceful future in this country for her and her baby. I thought the building of a Bridge of Peace which would allow her and her baby to cross from the side of the culture of war and violence into the side of the culture of Peace, had a meaning.

In September 1999, the United Nations General Assembly adopted the Declaration and Program of Action on a Culture of Peace in UN resolution A/RES/53/243 calling for action in eight areas which would be our pillars to sustain the bridge of Peace. 

In Bogota sitting at the dinner table, I found the first pillar to sustain the Bridge of Peace, which was United Nations Resolution A/RES/53/243 calling for a Culture of Peace through Education.

Medellin "The city of the Eternal Spring."

I arrived at Medellin on March 8, 2018, at 10:50 pm. Pablo Escobar was nowhere to be seen. The city of the Eternal Spring welcomed me. I visited places, met people, and learned along the way.

One of the places I visited in Medellin, was the "Casa de la Memoria," a museum dedicated to the victims of Colombia's long and brutal civil war conflicts. I spent hours going through pictures, videos, audios, and articles, which provided a human face to the conflict. I left saddened and went to the Plaza Botero for a fresh drink and reflected on the situation. The museum was a great testimony to Colombia’s past. It was also a reminder that the road to war had horrible consequences, and we should always opt to resolve our differences through dialogue and Peace.

Another place I visited while I was staying in Medellin was the small town of Guatape. I went there to climb the "El Penol"which was a granite monolith with over 700 concrete stairs. At the top, I enjoyed the 360-degree views of the region lakes.

I encountered people in Medellin. On Friday, March 9, 2018, I took a taxi heading to the Terminal. At the red light, a beautiful lady appeared at the intersection and started dancing without any sound of music. When the light went green, she walked between the line of cars holding her hat and asking for donations. She approached our taxi; I didn't have a change; therefore, I offered a smile as a sign of my appreciation. She smiled back and made my day.

I also met Omar, the taxi driver. He told me in a broken English that he was born and raised in Medellin. He showed me a picture of his wife and two beautiful daughters. He shared information about the city he loved, and went further to ask about my trip to Colombia. I told him that I enjoyed it so far. At my destination, we parted physically, but I still remembered Omar, the taxi driver. He left a footprint in my journey through his kindness, and there was not a price for that.

My last night in Medellin, I met Doctor Andrew, who was a retired Veterinarian. He lived in Chicago, before immigrating to Medellin, where he was planning to have his last stand. He decided to leave the U.S because he felt that Obama wanted to promote socialism in America. Further, he described afro-Colombians as lazy. I replied to his comments by saying that Obama was not a socialist, and Afro-Colombians were not lazy, but economically oppressed. 

After a long pause, we resumed our conversation. He told me he had a good life in Colombia as he was well-loved by women here. He said that in Chicago, despite his profession, beautiful car and house, he was not appreciated by the ladies; but here it was different. He went on to show me pictures of teens who wanted to be with him despite his age. Later, he admitted to me that he lost his license, went through a bankruptcy, and couldn't afford to live in America. In Miami, he met a girl from Colombia, and they decided to move to Bogota. She passed away, and he moved to Medellin. It was getting late, and I had to wake up early to continue my journey, so I wished him goodnight. I felt sorry for him; despite his joie de vivre appearance, I could see his pain.

I learned in Medellin Colombia that it was prohibited to sell Alcohol at the night before election day. I first laughed about it, but after a pose and a reflection, I agreed with the law. It made sense to have sober people electing a president who would run their lives for many years to come.

At the top of "El Penol" in Guatape, I found the second pillar to sustain the Bridge of Peace, which was the United Nations Resolution A/RES/53/243 calling for a Sustainable Economic and Social Development.

Cartagena "The walled city."

On Sunday, March 11, 2018, at 1 am, I arrived at Cartagena. The city was well known for its role in the trans-Atlantic Slave trade. Onto its shores debarked thousands and thousands of enslaved Africans who worked in plantations from sunup to sundown. On my way to the city, I met one of their descendants, my taxi driver.

The first thing I did in Cartagena was to follow the city's wall that had protected the city for centuries, and I ended up at the San Felipe Castle. Cartagena had beautiful architecture, and I loved the fact in Colombia, they tried to preserve the old colonial houses, despite their aspiration to modernity. In the Roger Park neighborhood of Chicago, helpless, we all witnessed the demolition of Heartland Café without due process. 

I also visited beautiful churches with names of wealthy benefactors on their walls. There were often the names of wealthy plantation owners, who used profits earned from slavery to buy their ways into heaven.

Finally, I went to Playa Blanca. It was located on Baru Island,a two hours' bus journey from the City of Cartagena. I spent the day away from the city's noises.

In Cartagena, I met a French engineering student on my way to Playa Blanca. She lived in Montreal, and she was traveling solo around Latin America. We bonded immediately by a common language, French, and a similar situation, travelers in a foreign land; so, we spent time together swimming, relaxing, sharing food and stories. Around 6 pm we took the bus back to the city. We followed our different paths and wished each other bon voyage.

The city of Cartagena was well-known to tourists. I learned local merchants had two prices for the same product. There were local and tourist prices. I wanted to protect myself from the heat, so I learned to speculate and reconcile the tourist price down to the domestic price level with camaraderie.

Walking along the city wall of Cartagena and guided by the spirit of slave's ancestors, I found the third pillar to sustain the Bridge of Peace which was United Nations Resolution A/RES/53/243 calling for the Respect for all human rights.

Santa Marta "America's Pearl" 

On Wednesday, March 14, 2018, I left Cartagena, heading to Santa Marta. The journey by bus was a beautiful ride. The route was a coastal road with an uninterrupted view of the sea and eye-catching scenery.

I arrived at the Santa Marta bus terminal at around 5:30 pm and stayed at the Mauricio Babilonia Hostel. Santa Marta is the oldest city of Colombia. It was founded on July 29, 1525, by a Spanish conqueror Rodrigo de Bastidas. The town was also the place where Simon Bolivar rendered his last breath on December 17, 1830, on his way to exile in Europe.

Santa Marta was a lively port city. At night, food vendors sold food, and musicians played music in the street. The restaurants, bars and coffee places were full of tourists and local Colombians mingled together in peace. At an Italian restaurant, I enjoyed a delicious Italian dish, and to show my appreciation., I asked the server to thank the hands that made the meal for me.

At an Italian Restaurant in Santa Marta, I found the fourth pillar to sustain the Bridge of Peace, which was United Nations Resolution A/RES/53/243 calling for Equality between women and men.

On Thursday, March 15, 2018, around noon, I left Santa Marta. I took a local bus and visited the town of Aracataca, which was 1.5 hours by bus. My journey was guided by Gabriel Garcia Marquez's book "One Hundred Years of Solitude." I arrived at around 2 pm, walked past the old train station of Aracataca, and I saw myself trying to reconcile fiction and realities. I visited Gabi's grandfather's house, the post office where his father used to work, the church where he was baptized and the school he attended as a child. After lunch, I went to the river, and visited the market where Arabs merchants, magicians, and gypsies used to gather. Around 6:30 pm, I took a minibus under a heavy rain back to Santa Marta. On both sides of the road, I could see banana plantations, which reminded me that fiction was not far from reality. 

On Friday, March 16, 2018, I headed to the Tayrona National Natural Park. It was a protected area. I decided to rent a tent and stay overnight by the sea, surrounded by palm trees. I connected with Mother Nature.

At Santa Marta, I met the owner of Mauricio Babilonia hostel. He inherited the hostel from his parents, and he wanted it to feel like home. Therefore, he decided not to have a front desk. When I arrived, I was seated in the living room, which had the feeling of a home. The rooms of the hostel were named after characters of the One Hundred Years of Solitude book. One late night, while I was resting and enjoying my tea and cuts of pineapple, he joined me at the terrace, and we started a conversation. He told me that he used to live in Bogota, but he decided to come back home, saddened by the direction Colombia and Colombians were going. He believed they were losing their Latin heritage in favor of the Anglo-Saxon one, which meant in his view that Colombia was becoming a more materialistic society. He also told me that he was working on a documentary to preserve the memories of his father, who was a doctor. His father traveled around Colombia in poorest and indigenous areas to help cure people of diseases and engaged in extramarital affairs.

Another person I met was a young Afro-Colombian student who was looking for opportunities to improve his English. I met him while I was walking around in the streets of Aracatara. He offered to be my guide and showed me around the city, I accepted. He brought the city to life by sharing stories on houses, streets, and surroundings. He also told me about his plan to work in the tourism industry after his studies. As a stranger in this small town, he was able through his stories to bring light on the book and author I came to meet. After hours spent together, we parted. I thanked him for his time and offered a donation, which he refused, but I insisted until he accepted my gift, which came from the heart. We gave a hug and said goodbye. His last words were, "You are always welcome to Colombia because we are all brothers." I couldn't disagree, to build a lasting peace in this world, we must see all humans as brothers and sisters.

At Santa Marta, I learned, there was a significant refugee population from Venezuela living in the city. During the day, you could see them offering their hands for labor, and at night, their bodies to make a living.

At Tayrona National Natural Park, I found the fifth pillar to sustain the Bridge of Peace, which was United Nations Resolution A/RES/53/243 calling for Democratic Participation.

Cali: "Salsa Capital of the World"

On Sunday, March 18, 2018, I arrived in Cali around 10:49 pm. It was a long journey from Santa Marta. 

The next morning, I walked around the old city, followed the Rio Cali, and visited the Cat Park. Suddenly, I heard at the Plaza de Cayzedo-Barrio a beautiful voice of a musician which I admired. Nearby I saw a beautiful church called La Ermita and went around it to indulge my curiosity.

At night, I went dancing at the birthplace of salsa. As Martha Graham said, "Dance is the hidden language of the soul of the body." The basics of salsa dancing were the same with Colombian taste. 

In Cali, I met a man at a local restaurant called El Gran Jugo. He told me that he used to live in Montreal, Canada, and worked as a construction worker. He returned to Cali because his parents were getting older, and as an only child he saw it his duty to take care of them, so they could rest in peace when the time came to say goodbye to the world.

I also met a beautiful Colombian girl in Cali, who was kind enough to dance with me. At the end of the party, I thanked her, wished her goodnight, and went back to my hostel.

In Cali, I learned, love requires sacrifices. The construction worker leaving his job to take care of his parents constituted in my eyes a perfect example. Therefore, I believe to have lasting peace in Colombia, Colombians must commit to peaceful ways of resolving their differences. -And that required sacrifices.

At the Plaza de Cayzedo-Borrio in Cali, I found the sixth pillar to sustain the Bridge of Peace which was United Nations Resolution A/RES/53/243 calling for understanding, tolerance, and solidarity.

  

Salento "Miracle City"

On Tuesday, March 20, 2018, I left Cali for Salento via Armenia. The Peace journey in Colombia was nearing the end. During my trip, I greeted each day with gratitude knowing along the way I was fed, lodged and taking care by fellow Colombians.

I decided to stay three days in Salento to rest and learn about people's lives in a small town in Colombia. I stayed at the Yambolombia hostel. The owner was a Colombian Rastafarian, who traveled extensively around Colombia and Latin America in his youth. He decided to settle in Salento to welcome the world.

I took the time to hike around beautiful sceneries and listened to stories of fellow travelers. In some occasions, I went to the central Plaza to have a drink, enjoyed delicious food and bought groceries. There was the charm that I loved about little towns, which were characterized by the slow pass, the friendliness of people, and the peaceful harmony between humans and nature.

At the Yambolombia Hostel in Salento, I met an Argentinian couple. They had been traveling around Latin America for years. They met in Peru, united by love, they decided to travel together. Along the way, they made jewelry for sale and offered their labor for a place to stay, and I had the chance to hear their stories.

At the Plaza in Salento, I learned that soccer was ‘god’ in Colombia by witnessing a friendly game between France and Colombia. I also learned that trade was a universal language that didn't require a local language. As a result, I traveled for three weeks without speaking Spanish fluently. I was able to communicate with people as truth communication was based on the desire to talk with others, and on patience to listen and understand the other side. These were keys to a peaceful relationship between people and nations.

At Salento, I found the seventh pillar to sustain the bridge of Peace which was United Nations Resolution A/RES/53/243 calling for participatory Communication and the free flow of information and knowledge.

Bogota:“Most Noble and Most Loyal City"

On Saturday, March 24, 2018, I entered Bogota around 10 pm. On Sunday, March 25, I decided to join the Bogota Free Walking tour. On Sundays in Bogota, the tradition wanted the main streets to be closed to cars. As a result, bicyclists, pedestrians, small merchants, dancers, singers, actors, clowns, magicians, and acrobats could use streets without fear being hit by a car and share their gifts. 

The Bogota free walking tour began at 10 am at the Museo Del Oro entrance (at Santander Park). Our guide, Santiago, with his red umbrella, led us through the city's tales, history, cafes, and museums. At the end, he encouraged us to see Colombia through the eyes of Peace, not war, and asked for a donation. 

I left the group, and I went at the Simon Bolivar Square carrying with me the seven pillars to sustain the Bridge of Peace. At the square, I called on the powers around the square (Executive, Legislative, Judiciary and City Council) to give me the eight pillar to sustain the bridge of Peace which was United Nations Resolution A/RES/53/243 calling for Culture International Peace and Security.

Nobody answered my calls. I knocked on their doors, nobody opened. I sat and waited, nobody came. I left saddened and wondered why they were not responding to my calls for Peace.

At the end of my journey, I realized that Colombia was a country of magical beauties which could be seen only in time of Peace. I also understood by talking to people that opinions on the Colombian Peace Process were divided due to years of wars which only brought destruction, suffering, and tears.

In spite of that, I believe Colombians must have a heart full of forgiveness and commit to maintaining the Colombian Peace Process alive, so they can build a Bridge of Peace and allow ordinary Colombians to cross the divide on their road to Peace. As Marquez Garcia said, "Nobody deserves your tears, but whoever deserves them will not make you cry." 

On Monday, March 26, 2018, at 3:28 pm, I left Colombia on a rainy day. I sat on the plane and wondered, whether the rain was Mauricio Babylonia's yellow butterflies’ tears of joy or sadness. Only the future will tell. 

Sincerely,

Alpha Diallo